Vander
We had barely settled in when five women from Goldenpeak showed up at the door, balancing trays of sweets and desserts with forced smiles. But it was clear—they weren’t just here to deliver food.
They were dressed to audition.
Short skirts, glossy heels, pantyhose held up by suspenders, the whole performance.
They reminded me, uncomfortably, of the first time I met Martha. She’d come to my hotel room, asking if I needed anything. She knew she was beautiful—and she used it. At the time, I’d checked into a different hotel without Natasha. I needed space. Katya and Natasha had been driving me to the edge, smothering me with guilt and judgment.
I felt like s**t for leaving. But I was drowning.
Then Martha knocked on my door.
She didn’t flirt like the others. Not at first. There w
