Chapter 1
Geoffrey Rivers had always felt a little out of place in her own skin. Born into a life overshadowed by her late sister’s memory, she was constantly urged to embody the role of the perfect lady. She played the part well, down to the last detail, but beneath the polished exterior lay a rebellious spirit desperate to break free. And then came the event that would change everything. It was one fateful night at the Festival Grounds—an underground cosplay gathering where anything could happen. In the dim light of a secluded booth, she had found herself getting lost in the kiss of a stunning cosplayer. Almost a catastrophe, her heart raced, but in the haze of recklessness, she felt alive. But that wild night faded into memory—until the day she found that costume in her wife’s closet. It was a stunning black outfit, adorned with lace and leather, the telltale bite marks evident on the thigh cuffs. Geoffrey’s breath caught in her throat. “What the hell?” Matilda Sterling, her newlywed wife, bore no signs of shame. Instead, she slipped into the outfit right in front of Geoffrey, her voice cutting through the tension like glass. “The things we didn’t finish that night… shall we continue?” Geoffrey raised an eyebrow. “Sure, why not?” Geoffrey had always felt like a counterfeit. Every encounter, every relationship had been somehow tainted by the expectations of the past. She didn’t want to be the quiet, obedient woman people revered her as. Yet somehow, even the person she had been pretending to be had enamored her match at an arranged meet, and suddenly, she found herself falling for that infatuated romantic persona too. Twenty years went by, cloaked in performance, and she thought it would just be the way of life—until Matilda challenged her illusion. “Are you even into me, Geoffrey?” Matilda asked, her tone heavy with disappointment. Caught off guard, Geoffrey could only manage a stunned silence. Matilda wore an expression caught between sadness and anger, her shirt half-tucked, hinting at the vulnerability of someone wanting to strip away the pretenses. “Just get a divorce then.” Geoffrey jolted, confusion twisting her gut. “Why are you undressing? Just to break up?” It slowly became clear. Matilda love-d her—the real her, despite all her masked antics. --- “Just remember, don’t wander too far from me, okay?” Matilda instructed with a teasing smile, adjusting her own headpiece. “We wouldn’t want you to get lost among the crowds and have to fight through the muck.” Geoffrey grinned, a soft blush creeping to her cheeks as she nestled the headphones against her ears. “Got it.” This weekend marked a significant moment in her life, one last hurrah before she officially stepped into adulthood at her university friend, Isabella Quinn's, birthday bash. The two had weathered the storms of college together, and now Isabella was keen on introducing the world of cosplay even to the less adventurous like Geoffrey. “Just follow the path to the exhibition center,” Isabella guided over the phone, her voice buoyant. “They say the quality this time is stellar.” Geoffrey smiled, adjusting her costume, an intricate design depicting Lady Isolde Windrider—a character from the latest hit game that had taken the fandom by storm. With her elegant demeanor, she could pull off something close to the character’s grace. The game character’s soft waves adorned her golden locks, and her well-tailored gown hung effortlessly, merging authenticity with the whimsical. Stepping into the convention felt surreal; the spiraled hues of wigs and vibrant capes animated the venue, drawing her in like a moth to flame. “Hey, I think I spotted Lord Thorian!” she exclaimed, spotting the towering figure as she navigated to the heart of the festivities. “Awesome! Go left and then glide over about a hundred paces. I’ll be right there, just reviving my character!” Isabella chirped, obviously giddy. A hum of excitement danced through Geoffrey’s veins as she turned, ready to seize the day, when her eyes snagged on something that sent a jolt through her entire being. In the distance, a striking woman caught her breath—golden hair cascading like silk, a helmet glimmering with silver, obscuring most of her face. The sharp angles of her features framed a prominent nose and fit jawline, giving her an air of unearthly allure. But Geoffrey’s gaze dropped—the outfit that hugged her waist and thighs was nothing short of sultry. Hints of bare skin peeked through strategic cutouts, secured by leather straps that hinted at bold curves. Her legs were long and stunning—one clad in white while the other was adorned in daring shorts that danced dangerously around her toned thighs. The sheer contrast had Geoffrey utterly captivated. That simple boldness ignited something in Geoffrey, a thrill she hadn’t felt before. “Wow,” Geoffrey murmured under her breath, entranced, her heart racing with reckless curiosity.
Chapter 2
Geoffrey Rivers glanced up, her eyes locking onto the face before her once again. Through the glossy black helmet, she had a feeling that person must have striking eyes. This character—Geoffrey knew her well from anime; the chat rooms had been buzzing with comments along the lines of: “Big sister, whip me harder.” “I wish she’d cover my head with a pillow and force me to…” “……” Shocking yet oddly fitting… In short, a character who sparked excitement in all the masochists. During her anime-watching days, Geoffrey had been so stunned by the woman’s beauty that she’d rewind the screen a couple of times. So when Isabella Quinn invited her to cosplay this character, she felt genuinely pleased. Still, she firmly believed she had no peculiar preferences. Those wild comments? She regarded them with a mix of confusion and respect. But now… Now she understood. Truth be told, this character was executed with remarkable precision, exuding an air of cold authority. She didn’t want to be the one getting pushed around. No, she wanted to push back. Turns out, she had quite the craving for chaos. Geoffrey reached up to adjust the jewel-studded crown atop her head. After a moment’s contemplation, she decided to stop looking for Isabella Quinn and instead headed toward the woman before her. She often heard people say that when you wear a costume, it hides your true identity, freeing you from the burden of judgment. It made it easier to do things you wouldn’t normally do. Geoffrey wholeheartedly agreed. --- As she entered the women’s dressing chamber, Matilda Sterling turned to face her. A refined, gentle face came into view. For a brief moment, she hesitated, a flicker of curiosity mixed with the faintest hint of pleasure crossing her features as the frown from earlier relaxed. Matilda lifted her chin slightly. Geoffrey raised an eyebrow, her tone casual yet pointed. “Are we wrapping things up?” Matilda had a classically beautiful face—an oval shape highlighted by delicate brows and clear, glistening almond-shaped eyes. Her presence felt ethereal, enhanced by an extravagantly fitted ensemble. Even with her slightly flippant delivery, it didn’t come off as inappropriate. Matilda remained composed, choosing silence. Geoffrey couldn’t see her eyes, but she sensed the scrutiny piercing through the helmet. She smiled softly, reassuring herself of the lack of rejection. With a playful lift of her brow, she asked, “Shall we get acquainted?” Geoffrey stepped closer, closing the distance between them. In an instant, the woman’s breaths slowed, though she still didn’t pull away from Geoffrey’s approach. Geoffrey moved in again, reaching out to clasp Matilda’s hand. Though separated by the thick fabric of the costume gloves, the chill radiating from Matilda’s palm seeped into Geoffrey’s skin. Unable to resist, Geoffrey cast a glance down. Matilda’s hand was icy—she’d never met anyone whose touch was colder than hers. Behind them, the dressing room door creaked as it swung open. The dim light inside heightened the atmosphere, shadows pooling ominously around them. The space felt stifling, lit poorly and carrying the faint scent of mildew—certainly not ideal. Clearing her throat softly, Geoffrey turned to shut the door. The sound of the lock clicking echoed in the small chamber, a sudden wave of tension rising between them, their heartbeats hammering in unison. The two women stood close together. Geoffrey’s elaborate costume brushed against Matilda’s smooth thigh, the fabric’s slight stiffness pressing against her bare skin in a way that felt both painful and exhilarating. With the distance between them reduced, Geoffrey caught a whiff of a sterile scent cut with the subtle hint of wood—oddly enticing amid the damp, musty air. Geoffrey squinted slightly, pondering if Matilda was a doctor. Doctors… Those types surely looked good in white coats too… Her pulse quickened, breath fanning over Matilda’s face as she let her fingers wander through the length of Matilda’s hair. Despite the helmet obscuring her vision, Matilda could likely sense Geoffrey’s intentions. But this tease… No adult would misunderstand it. Matilda’s lashes flickered, a hint of disbelief crossing her. She was supposed to be a goddess, but here she was, wanting to connect with a mere mortal. Suddenly, warmth crept up her skin, and Matilda unconsciously pressed her lips together, feeling flustered. While she was lost in thought, Geoffrey's hand glided from Matilda's hair to her silky shoulder, icy fingertips sending electric sensations dancing across Matilda’s skin, causing an involuntary shiver. Seemingly responding to her reaction, Geoffrey smiled just a fraction. She knelt beside Matilda, breath hot against her skin, the rich fabric of her costume pooling around them. The warmth of their contact intensified; Matilda clenched her fist, instinctively recoiling. But the wall was at her back, leaving no room to escape. With every attempted backward movement, the coarse wall pressed painfully against her spine. Geoffrey's grip tightened around Matilda's leg. The pressure around her thigh became increasingly noticeable. Geoffrey was biting— With the sensation of being ensnared, Matilda felt a desperate need to retreat, her breaths growing shallow. Her fingers brushed against something unfamiliar—her phone. She pulled it out, the weak light cutting through the darkness of the small space, illuminating Geoffrey standing above her, fingers brushing her face. “Not paying attention, are we?” Matilda handed her the phone. It lit up, showing only two words—“Hotel.”
Chapter 3
Geoffrey Rivers glanced over at Matilda Sterling, his fingers grazing the soft curve of her earlobe. “Maybe the booth isn't such a bad idea after all.” Matilda tightened her grip around her phone, closing her eyes briefly before reaching out to pull Geoffrey down, her intention clear without a word spoken. Obediently, Geoffrey knelt beside her, one leg pressing against the cool floor. The sensation of the cuff tightened around his leg was pronounced, evident that she enjoyed this little thrill. Matilda bit her lip, her slender fingers tangling in his thick, dark hair. “Snap.” The sound of the cuff breaking filled the air. Geoffrey rose, reattaching the severed cuff to Matilda's wrist, her skin pale and delicate, marred by the sudden red impressions left by the binding. The cuffs were cold and slightly damp, not the most pleasant accessory. Matilda let out a soft hiss of pain, her brows knitting together, but Geoffrey seemed oblivious or perhaps simply too caught up in the moment. He looked up at her and added playfully, “How about a kiss?” Before she could respond, he held her head and leaned in, capturing her lips with a gentle touch, a stark contrast to the fierce tug of the cuff moments before. Their mouths met softly. It wasn’t the wild passion from earlier, but something tender, exploratory. Geoffrey’s tongue slipped past her lips, coaxing her into a deeper rhythm as his hand explored the contours of her waist, tracing the sharp lines of her body. Electricity surged through her, sparking heat beneath her skin. Her hands, initially stiff at her sides, were grabbed by Geoffrey and placed firmly on his waist. Time slipped away, the heated kiss carrying them into a haze where nothing else existed until it finally drew to a close... Breathless, Matilda felt as if all the air had been stolen away, leaving her lightheaded. She leaned against the table for support, her right hand tugging at Geoffrey’s arm, pushing it lower—a bold move indeed. Geoffrey’s gaze lifted, feeling an odd sense of being outmaneuvered, yet he reminded himself that she had come here seeking dominance. Her skin flushed, a soft hue creeping up her neck as he held her hand firmly, his tone flirtatious. “Not comfortable?” Matilda didn’t respond. “If it’s uncomfortable, you need to say so,” he teased, fingers playfully tugging at the remnants of the cuff around her leg. “How else would I know?” Matilda raised her head, trying to peer through the gaps in her helmet to gauge his expression. Did she really need to verbalize her discomfort, or was this a game? A spark of warmth spread through Geoffrey as he watched her struggle to lift her helmet. He was certain her wide eyes were fixed on him, unblinking in curiosity. Then, suddenly, his hands were on her helmet, and he said softly, “Close your eyes. Let me kiss them.” “...” With a breath of compliance, Matilda shut her eyes. The kiss that followed resonated loudly, teasingly hinted at the intention behind it. Releasing her, Geoffrey couldn’t help but smirk. “Did you say something?” Matilda's gaze fell, a muted “aah” escaping her lips—soft, almost hoarse. Geoffrey froze, taken aback. “You…” He hadn’t anticipated that her voice would falter like that. Even in his cheeky demeanor, encountering her vulnerability made Geoffrey's façade drop a notch. He leaned closer, murmuring, “I’m sorry.” Matilda’s lashes fluttered slightly, pulling Geoffrey closer still with a persistent tug. “Let me make it up to you, alright?” he said, kneeling again, his touch soothing against her wrist. What began as a playful exchange had turned sincere, the warmth of Matilda’s flushed skin betraying the electric tension in the air. A soft tension lingered as Matilda stole a glance at Geoffrey’s gentle smile, a hint of vulnerability hidden behind it. **How could he act like a rogue yet possess such sincerity?** --- Westcliff. October, the air still thick with lingering summer heat. Geoffrey stirred awake to a stuffy atmosphere, the AC having given up on their battle against the rising humidity. Sweat clung to her brow, and she swiped a hand through her disheveled hair, stifling a groan as she pinched the bridge of her nose. She squinted at the clock on the bedside table—7:30 AM. A solid hour and a half until work. Resigned, she slipped out of bed, pulling on a light robe, and padded barefoot toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. Flipping them open, she let the morning air drift in, hoping to clear her head before heading to the bathroom. This apartment was her wedding chamber; she had just moved in a couple of days prior. The place felt emptier than she liked, the stark black-and-white decor echoing a cold formality. Despite her efforts to bring warmth to the space, it screamed new and uninviting. The temperature control in the bathroom was excellent, the perfect setup for her morning routine. While she applied her makeup, her phone buzzed on the table. Cedric Hawthorne: *“I was up at six—definitely won’t be late today.”* An image of a packed subway train popped up next, sending a chuckle through her. Two weeks into the job and already friendly with Cedric, someone in the same age group and office. Their camaraderie had solidified quickly, perhaps as a result of being near each other. The workplace had flexible hours, but Cedric’s lengthy commute often resulted in tardiness, demanding late nights to keep up. Today was crucial; with a new director joining the team, making a lousy first impression by being late was simply unacceptable. Missing the welcome session was a disaster waiting to happen. Geoffrey typed back, “Glad to hear it.” While there was no strict dress code at the company, team spirit had them all donning professional attire today thanks to the new boss. Geoffrey sifted through her collection, a row of dresses catching her eye until she settled on a crisp white blouse, slipping it over her head before adding a low-heeled shoe. , she took a deep breath, preparing to conquer the day ahead.
Chapter 4
Geoffrey Rivers arrived at the lobby of Rivers' Guild just before eight-thirty. The convenience store, usually bustling with morning commuters, was surprisingly calm. She folded up her sunshade and made her way inside for a quick breakfast. By the time she reached the Dressing Chamber, Cedric Hawthorne was waiting by the entrance, clutching a carton of almond milk and a bun. He waved slightly when he saw her approaching. Geoffrey nodded in acknowledgment as she brushed her access card against the scanner to enter the building. They both lingered near the elevator, waiting for it to descend. Cedric sighed softly, “Thank goodness my lease is up in a month. This place is way too far.” Geoffrey tilted her head. “Cedric, didn’t you just move? How’s the rent over there?” Cedric, having graduated just two years prior, was tight-lipped about her salary. Geoffrey guessed it couldn’t be too different from her own—if anything, she might even be earning a bit less after joining the company ahead of Cedric. Given the high cost of living in Westcliff, every bit of salary counted. Geoffrey frowned and leaned closer to Cedric. “I’m living in a family-owned place, so I’m not really sure about the local rental market.” Cedric’s eyes widened in envy. “...I wish I had that kind of support.” It was barely eight-forty when they settled into their seats at their desks. Whispers had it their new director wouldn’t arrive until ten, giving them ample time to relax before the day officially begun. “I heard it’s a woman. Hopefully, she’s better than our last director,” Cedric remarked. Their previous director had left under scandalous circumstances, the dirty laundry aired online with enough gossip to sink a ship. The company had no choice but to let her go. Geoffrey, new to the team and unfamiliar with the past drama, opted for silence. From a nearby desk, Roland Beaumont chimed in, “I heard she’s coming from one of the subsidiaries and is under thirty. You know she must’ve had help getting up here.” The thought of a young woman swiftly climbing the corporate ladder raised eyebrows. Their last director had been in her mid-forties, while a woman not yet thirty seemed almost too good to be true. Roland’s voice wasn't loud, but the proximity ensured everyone took notice of his words. A few colleagues nodded in agreement, egging him on. “All I know is she’s getting married soon. Probably hooked up with some big wig,” Roland added, trying to sound casual. At their level, directors were required to notify HR a month in advance if they were getting hitched. Given Roland's rapport with the HR team, his gossip was likely grounded in fact. It was hard to believe a capable woman would choose marriage over professional ambition, especially upon being reassigned to headquarters. The chatter revealed cautious curiosity amongst the team. They knew there would be a welcome party that required good behavior, given their new boss's connections. Cedric rolled her eyes. “People love to spread rumors about women. The last director's messiness was real, but that doesn’t mean you can assume things about this one.” Geoffrey paused, her finger hovering over her mouse. “Just ignore them. It can’t be worse than what we had before.” At nine-fifty, the deputy director, Lionel Lancaster, decided to make the rounds. Geoffrey sat at the end of the row, closest to him. Clearing his throat twice, he caught everyone's attention. One by one, they turned their chairs toward him. “Alright, everyone, let’s get ready; we’re heading to the Council Chamber for a meeting,” he announced. His gaze lingered on Geoffrey for a moment too long before shifting away. From day one, Lionel had taken note of her. With a sense of dare, he’d let his interest bloom as he got to know her. Today, she’d opted for a more professional look, and though it wasn’t as effortlessly stunning as her usual attire, there was a distinct charm in the way she carried herself. Cedric made a face once Lionel had walked away. Once he was out of sight, Cedric jotted down a few notes and couldn’t shake off the thought of Geoffrey sharing a home with a family. “Geoffrey, if you’re from a well-off family, why are you even working here? With that face, it seems like a waste.” Geoffrey lifted her gaze, her tone nonchalant. “It’s fine. If it doesn’t fit, I’ll quit.” As colleagues filed into the conference room, they found only Lionel and his secretary already in place, with no sign of the new director. Once everyone settled in, Lionel clapped his hands together. “I’m excited to introduce our new director. Please join me in welcoming Matilda Sterling, our new Director!” Though a deputy's status slightly outweighed that of a director, Lionel’s tone was cordial enough to be genuine. Geoffrey kept her head down, but when she heard the name, her brow furrowed slightly. Slowly, she raised her eyes, disbelief flashing within them. The door swung open, and the room collectively turned its attention to the woman who stepped in—a striking figure in professional attire, captivating everyone, including Geoffrey. Matilda had a cool, commanding presence, her high cheekbones accentuated under her tailored blazer. Behind sleek silver-rimmed glasses, her almond-shaped eyes flickered with an intriguing blend of warmth and distance. Today, she wore a perfectly fitted black suit that screamed elegance without ostentation, hinting at an authoritative charm. Her long hair framed her delicate features, exuding sophistication and a tinge of coldness that seemed to electrify the air. As if pulled by an unseen force, Matilda’s gaze met Geoffrey’s across the room. In that moment, time seemed to freeze, two worlds colliding in an unexpected encounter.
Chapter 5
Matilda Sterling had an unmistakable presence, her eyes cold yet melancholic, lingering in the minds of those who caught her gaze. They were the kind of eyes that could freeze time and turn heads, evoking a sense of quiet admiration mixed with an inexplicable tension. But to Geoffrey Rivers, she wasn't just an enigmatic newcomer; she was about to become his boss. His new boss—and, more shockingly, his fiancé. As Matilda stepped into the conference room, a wave of silence washed over the assembled staff. They hadn’t expected their new director to be so young or strikingly beautiful. Whispers flitted around the room, speculation brewing about what influential figure had paved her way to the top. Lionel Lancaster, his demeanor casual, chuckled softly at the not-so-surprising reaction. “Bet you all didn’t expect the new director to be a total knockout. Youth and talent, everyone—take notes!” Applause broke out sheepishly from the crowd of coworkers, though Lionel’s jest had a sharper edge behind it. “Geoffrey, you might want to watch your back,” he teased, fixing a knowing look on Geoffrey Rivers. Geoffrey forced a smile, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks at the sudden attention. Matilda’s gaze shifted away from Lionel, her brow furrowing slightly as she interrupted with an air of authority. “Vice President, if I could take a moment to introduce myself.” The vice president blinked in surprise, caught off guard. “Of course, please, Matilda.” With a subtle nod, Matilda moved to the center of the room. When she began to speak, her voice was clear and melodic—steady and unwavering, like a tranquil stream. The calmness of her tone belied the gravity of what she was about to share. Geoffrey, who had always been a bit of a sucker for a soothing voice, felt his heart rate quicken as he absorbed her words. And then—without warning—Matilda delivered a line that shattered the façade of professionalism, “Seven times in one night. It’s part of the deal.” Geoffrey’s mind went blank. Although he considered himself open-minded, he found his thoughts derailed by her sudden bluntness. Her expression remained impassive, cold yet tinged with an unshakeable confidence that transformed what should have felt crude into something almost regal. Geoffrey couldn’t help but wonder if he was the one out of touch here. But… seven times? The mere thought sent heat flooding his face as he tried to comprehend what kind of endurance Matilda possessed—or if she simply intended to be outrageous. After Matilda wrapped up her introduction, Lionel clapped a hand onto the shoulder of Roland Beaumont, another colleague. “You guys should introduce yourselves too. Start with Roland.” Roland stood up, his demeanor a mix of enthusiasm and nerves as he took his turn at the mic. Matilda listened attentively, her face a mask of indifference, jotting down notes with a silver pen while hardly betraying a flicker of emotion. When it was Geoffrey’s turn, he stood, heart pounding as he greeted her, “Hi, Director. I’m Geoffrey Rivers.” Matilda’s piercing gaze met his; her pen halted in mid-scratch, the room feeling charged with an unspoken tension. Geoffrey couldn’t shake the feeling that she was judging him—that he had somehow become a specimen under her scrutiny. Once the meeting finally ended, Cedric Hawthorne sidled up to Geoffrey, exhaling as if he’d just escaped a tense situation. “I gotta say, I checked out her past projects, and she seems legit. We’re in good hands.” Geoffrey nodded absently, still grappling with the realization that Matilda Sterling, with her impressive credentials and intimidating aura, was now pulling the strings above him. She had mentioned in passing during their blind date that she’d be moving to the corporate headquarters, but Geoffrey had never envisioned she meant this very company—or that she’d become his boss. “Honestly,” Cedric lowered his voice conspiratorially, “she’s smart and stunning. I wouldn’t be surprised if she snagged an elite rich kid in no time.” Geoffrey arched an eyebrow, curious. “In your opinion, what qualifies as a ‘rich kid’ for someone like her?” “Uh, easy. They’d have to be a billionaire, at the very least,” Cedric replied, a bit too casually. As the meeting lingered too long, they gathered their things and headed to the restroom together. While washing her hands, Geoffrey had a sudden realization—a question nagged at her. Just as Cedric exited the restroom, Geoffrey’s curiosity got the better of her. “Cedric! Is there a policy against office romances here?” To which Cedric raised an eyebrow, looking incredulous. “Wait a second. Geoffrey, are you crushing on someone here? Please don’t make any rookie mistakes!” Geoffrey mentally scanned her colleagues but couldn’t pinpoint any potential love interests. “It can’t be the VP, right?” “No, no!” She shook her head furiously at the thought. “Then, is there a clause about it?” She pressed, still feeling a pang of anxiety. During her onboarding, she hadn’t come across anything that specifically barred relationships; in fact, office culture often felt pretty relaxed, except for the finance team where rumors suggested a stricter code. Cedric pondered for a moment, then shook his head. “Nope, we’re fairly flexible around here. Just keep it low-key, especially around finance.” A wave of relief washed over Geoffrey. She had just started this job—no way she wanted to jump ship so soon. Just then, the sound of heels clicking on the tiled floor registered in her ears, making her glance up. It was Matilda, gliding to the sink right next to Geoffrey. She turned on the tap and, through a cascade of dark hair, addressed her quietly, “There’s no policy against office relationships, by the way.”
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