The room was silent, except for the soft sound of your heels on the wooden floors as you paced, waiting for Hilkias. He was still in a meeting with the other members of the mafia. Your heart was racing, eager for him to finally arrive. The red dress you had chosen was meant to make an impression, a bold touch with the deep neckline and the skirt that rose up to your thighs, leaving your legs exposed and sensual.

When you heard the door creak open, your heart skipped a beat. Hilkias was there, in his imposing figure, his penetrating gaze filled with tension. He quickly removed his blazer, the muscles in his arms straining beneath his button-up shirt, but when his eyes landed on you, he paused for a moment.

The seconds stretched on as if time had stopped. He looked at you, his expression a mix of frustration and something else, something you couldn't quite define.

You swallowed hard, a chill running down your spine as you saw the judgment in his eyes. "Don't you like it?" you asked, insecurity creeping in despite the initial confidence you had when choosing the dress.

He stepped closer, the weight of his footsteps echoing through the room. His gaze locked onto you, his voice lower now. "Take off that dress." The words were delivered with the authority of a military command.

Confusion overtook you. "But... is it not good? I... thought you'd like it..."

Hilkias didn't answer right away. He was now standing very close to you, the air thick between you two, and you could feel the electric tension building. He looked at you with a mix of frustration and desire.

"Take it off. Now." His tone left no doubt that this was no longer a matter of taste, but control.

Fear and excitement mixed within you, but instinctively, you refused. "I don't... I don't understand."

He sighed in impatience, as if restraining himself. "You look so fucking beautiful in my tight pants right now. Damn, take off that dress now."