"Meet me at the usual place. 8 PM."
"Don't you want to ask if my period is over?"
"It doesn't matter."
Zoe listened to the cold voice on the other end of the line and smirked. "You never even thought about me..."
But before she could finish her sentence, the man abruptly hung up, clearly unwilling to say another word.
At that moment, Zoe was backstage, preparing for her performance. She had a passion for rock music, and tonight, she was the lead singer for her band, "Wild Love," getting ready to perform at a bar.
One of the band members, James, waved her over, signaling that she needed to get ready to hit the stage.
Zoe put her phone down and strode confidently forward, her long legs carrying her with purpose.
The energy of the night ignited the bar, reaching a fever pitch by the time their performance ended, leaving it a bustling 7:30 PM.
"Zoe, why not stay for a drink?" asked the band’s keyboardist, a bearded man lifting a beer in her direction.
"I have plans, so I’ll be leaving," she replied, downing a shot of tequila. She then headed backstage to grab her black helmet, swinging her leg over her expensive motorcycle.
As she sped into the night, the cool wind rushed past her. Soon, she arrived at a villa nestled against the mountains.
Removing her helmet, Zoe ran a hand through her tousled hair and stepped confidently in high heels into the villa.
The place had an air of opulence but felt uninviting, with its lavish European décor hinting that it was rarely occupied. The quiet night added a layer of mystery to the atmosphere.
Upon entering the hall, Zoe noticed that the lights were off.
In the darkness, a faint orange glow illuminated a figure sitting on the sofa, apparently smoking.
As he noticed Zoe, the man crushed the cigarette out and stood, slowly walking toward her.
"Take it off."
His voice was cold and devoid of emotion. The moonlight highlighted his chiseled features, but his eyes held a chilling detachment.
Zoe smiled softly, then followed his command, starting to undress.
As she tossed her leather jacket aside, she stepped toward him, the moonlight accentuating her flawless figure, every inch of her captivating.
She reached out, pushing the man back onto the sofa and straddling his lap.
On the table lay the half-burnt cigarette he had discarded. Zoe picked it up, took a drag, and blew a perfect ring of smoke into his face.
His expression remained cold, but desire began to flicker in his eyes.
Zoe fixed her gaze on him, her eyes sparkling with allure. "What position do you want tonight?"
"All of them."
His hands glided over her skin, finally resting on her soft lips.
Then he forcefully pulled her closer, capturing her pink lips with his in a heated kiss.
His kiss was aggressive, pushing deep into her, igniting a fire within her.
Zoe responded passionately, feeling the electric thrill of his touch as they moved from the sofa to the dining table, and finally to the bed…
The mysterious man in the villa was named Dorian. They had met a year ago at a rock concert.
Both were fans of the same band and ended up at the same show, where Dorian had asked for Zoe’s number.
At the time, Zoe was wearing a provocative mini skirt and a denim top, exuding sex appeal.
Surprisingly, Dorian had shown up in a suit, which intrigued Zoe.
After a brief conversation, the mutual attraction was evident. Zoe kissed Dorian first, and he responded with equal fervor.
They ended up at a hotel, and one thing led to another.
To her surprise, their chemistry was electric, leading them to agree on a friends-with-benefits arrangement.
They met regularly, sometimes more than once a month, and after each passionate night, Dorian ensured Zoe received financial support.
A year passed, and aside from their encounters in bed, they hardly knew each other. Zoe didn’t even know Dorian’s last name or anything about his background.
Yet, their familiarity in bed remained unshakeable.
Clothes were strewn across the floor, and Dorian’s stamina seemed endless, unleashing his desires fully.
Finally, after an hour, the room settled into silence.
Zoe lay exhausted on the bed, completely drained.
Dorian, freshly washed and now dressed in a white shirt, lit a cigar, exhaling smoke as he glanced at the naked woman lying on the bed, her back to him.
He frowned, noticing that Zoe was lazily scrolling through her phone, completely devoid of the modesty one might expect.
Dorian knew Zoe enjoyed her freedom and pleasure, but he had no idea how many men she had been with.
This thought irritated him. Clenching his cigar, he pulled out his phone with his other hand.
At that moment, Zoe’s phone pinged with a notification.
It was a message from the bank.
… *$10 million will be transferred to your account by 12:30 PM…*
It was from Dorian.
But this time, the amount seemed significantly higher than usual.
Zoe looked up at the man shrouded in cigar smoke, catching the dark expression on his face, which resembled a stormy sky.
Dorian’s voice was icy as he cast a shadow over her. “This is the last time we meet. Delete all my contacts.”
His words felt like an unyielding command, leaving no room for argument.
Zoe sat up, peering through the haze at Dorian. “Why?”
