Giselle barely had time to shower and change before the curse began to call.
She had sent only one message, a single, teasing text to Lena, her favorite rival from the underground witch scene. Lena was tall, sharp-tongued, and famously dominant, with a reputation for breaking even the most stubborn submissives in the city. They had f****d before, always with Giselle on top, always with Giselle in control.
That balance was about to shatter.
Lena arrived at the penthouse less than thirty minutes later, dressed in sleek black leather pants and a tight crimson top that hugged her full breasts. Her dark eyes lit up with hungry curiosity the moment she stepped inside.
“You sounded desperate in that text,” Lena purred, kicking the door shut behind her. “What happened? The great Giselle finall
