Asra lay curled up on the far side of Ather’s massive bed, the silk sheets cool against her skin. She couldn’t sleep. Every small sound from the attached study made her tense. The low murmur of his voice had been going on for nearly twenty minutes now—deep, authoritative, and dangerously calm.
He was on a phone call.
She could hear him pacing slowly, the occasional clink of ice in a glass. Even though the door was slightly ajar, she didn’t dare move. She kept her eyes closed, pretending to sleep, but her heart refused to slow down.
In the study, Ather leaned against his desk, phone pressed to his ear. The call was with one of his capos in Rome—business as usual: shipments, rivals, blood. His voice remained cold and commanding in English until the conversation shifted.
He glanced toward the half-open door. The faint sight of Asra’s small body buried under his sheets sent a dark wave of hunger through him.
A low, filthy smirk touched his lips.
“Sì, la ragazza è qui,” he said, voice dropping into smooth, sensual Italian. “La mia piccola innocente… cazzo, non hai idea. Sdraiata nel mio letto proprio adesso, con quel vestitino leggero che non nasconde niente. È così stretta, così spaventata… eppure il suo corpo trema per me.”
(Yes, the girl is here. My little innocent… fuck, you have no idea. Lying in my bed right now in that little dress that hides nothing. She’s so tight, so scared… yet her body trembles for me.)
He paused, listening to the man on the other end, but his mind was elsewhere. His gaze burned through the doorway.
“Vorrei spogliarla lentamente… farla arrossire mentre la apro con le dita. È vergine, lo sai? Tutta mia. Solo mia. Se qualcuno osa anche guardarla troppo a lungo, gli taglio gli occhi.(”I want to undress her slowly… make her blush while I open her with my fingers. She’s a virgin, you know? All mine. Only mine. If anyone dares look at her too long, I’ll cut their eyes")
His voice grew rougher, darker with lust
“Quando tornerò da lei stasera, la farò piangere dal piacere. La riempirò fino a farle dimenticare il suo stesso nome… ma continuerà a chiamarmi solo ‘Sir’ con quella vocina tremante.”
(When I come back to her tonight, I’ll make her cry from pleasure. I’ll fill her until she forgets her own name… but she’ll keep calling me only ‘Sir’ with that trembling little voice.)
Ather ended the call with a few sharp orders and tossed the phone onto the desk. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to control the fire raging in his veins. Talking about her like that had made him painfully hard.
He walked to the doorway and leaned against the frame, watching her.
Asra’s eyes were shut tight, but her cheeks were flushed deep red and her breathing was uneven. She had heard everything. Every single filthy word.
Ather’s lips curved into a dark, satisfied smile.
“Still pretending to sleep, little one?” he murmured in English, voice low and teasing. “Good. Keep those eyes closed… because if you open them and look at me right now, I won’t be gentle tonight.”
He stepped closer to the bed, his tall frame casting a shadow over her small body.
“Sleep, Asra. Or don’t. Either way… you’re already mine.”
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