Zara's POV
His sudden presence towered over me, and I could smell his musky scent, mixed with a hint of aquatic freshness from his strong, solid body.
His v-neck shirt stretched just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his cleavage, the folds of his abs so close, so inviting... it made me swallow hard.
That view, that sensation, had me losing my focus entirely. My body betrayed me as I stammered, trying to push against his shoulder, "Wh—what kind of game are you talking about?" The words barely escaped my dry throat.
He slowly stood up, eyes locking with mine—dark, intense, full of intent. "Wait here," he commanded, and with that, he left me alone.
Before I could gather my scattered thoughts, the head butler appeared, refilling my empty drink.
"Thanks," I muttered, my voice still shaky.
She nodded wordlessly and left as silently as she had come. I couldn't help but feel like she knew exactly what I needed. Her unreadable face told me this wasn't the first time she'd seen someone in this exact state. Did it happen often? What was I about to face?
My mind raced, replaying Ravier's words—I will fuck... How could he say that with such confidence, without even a hint of hesitation? His words stirred nervous heat in my stomach, like something about to boil over. A flush burned on my cheek, humiliation crawling through me.
But... when he said he'd take me as his risk? There was a strange warmth that spread through my chest. It felt like... like he'd take my side, no matter what. The thought alone both unsettled and soothed me.
And what game was he talking about?
Ravier came back carrying two medium boxes in his hands. He placed them on the table and sat across from me. I furrowed my brows as I sipped the tea, spilling a little in the process. Why did I feel so uneasy looking at those boxes?
"Did you like the tea, or are you just nervous?" His question almost made me choke. The sly smirk on his face matched the mockery in his voice.
I cleared my throat and set the cup down on the table. "It's a good tea, and I don't want to disappoint the one who served it."
He leaned forward slightly.
"So, you demand three wishes, and I'll turn those into three games for you to earn your rewards." He pointed to the box on the left. "This one's for the first game—to clear your debt." He gestured toward the second box. "And this one's for the second game—to get you into the rival restaurant of The Amethyst." He leaned back on the sofa, crossing his legs with that confident smirk. "You may open the left box first."
I leaned closer to the table and carefully opened the left box. I was stunned for a moment but then furrowed my brow.
From what I saw it looked like a neatly folded chef's uniform. But then I lifted it out and my breath hitched.
It was a custom-made chef's uniform, crafted from premium cotton that chefs use in high-end showcases. The fabric was soft yet durable and spoke of the undeniable luxury of Ravier's status.
But what made my jaw drop was the design. It was an off-shoulder top with decorative black buttons, mimicking a chef's jacket with a modern cut, paired with a fitted, pinstriped, knee-length skirt.
The design looked sleek, bold, and impossibly seductive, yet exuded an elegant allure that screamed luxury. It was the kind of uniform that blurred the line between professionalism and sensuality.
I looked at him, my fingers clutching the soft fabric. "This…"
"That'll be your uniform when you work as my private chef," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. "This is just a sample. Once you sign the deal, Berta will help with your fitting."
"But this design—"
"Why? Are you imagining some kinky uniform?"
"What—No!" I yelped, heat rushing to my cheeks. "Even this design is... unusual for a chef's uniform."
"It's still functional," he said, his tone unapologetic, "and it won't make cooking harder for you. It just... has that custom off-shoulder design for me to enjoy the show."
My admiration for the elegant fabric of the uniform was cut off by his single word: 'Show.' A show? Right, I had almost forgotten. This was just part of the show—his show. Why had I ever thought he was being considerate with how detailed this uniform was? I placed it back in the box, my fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.
"So, by wearing this and performing a cooking show for you, you'll pay off all my debts?"
He nodded, his eyes gleaming like a predator's. "Exactly. It's a down payment for your services over the next three months. And a rent fee for owning that pretty neck of yours."
"No sex?"
"No, if you dare resist me."
The way he said 'rent my neck' sent a shiver down my spine. I had to admit that his confident tone was magnetic. It pulled something raw inside me, leaving my throat dry.
My gaze shifted to the other box. Without thinking, I reached for it and lifted the lid. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes landed on what was inside.
"This—" My voice faltered. I stared at him, wide-eyed, as he smiled at my surprise, clearly pleased by my reaction.
"That's right. This box contains different kinds of panty vibrators. This is where the real fun begins, Ms. Shamari."
I knew exactly what it was the moment my eyes caught it. I'd never used one, but Leah had some stashed in her drawer. And… there was that one time I thought about using one with Martin, but he refused, claiming his body was enough to satisfy me. But satisfaction wasn't the only reason these toys were created.
"So, you want us to play with these?" I asked, my voice steadier than I expected.
"Are you experienced with it?"
"No!" I blurted, then paused. "My roommate had some, so… yeah, I kind of know."
"Good. That means I don't need to explain it from scratch. Let's talk about my rules on this."
"Rules?" My brows furrowed, the word barely making sense in my mind.
In that moment, the tension in the room thickened, settling over me like a weight. I couldn't fight back, couldn't speak my usual defiance. I'd already offered my body—and my soul—in exchange for the power he held, the power he could give me. Whatever he said, I had to listen. It was the price of my ambition, wasn't it?