The morning air was crisp as Claire and Morgan boarded the private jet once more. Claire stretched as she sank into the plush leather seat, still feeling the lingering warmth of the onsen from the night before.
She sighed contently. "I have to admit, that was one of the best nights of my life."
Morgan smirked, sipping her morning espresso. "I told you Japan would be unforgettable."
Claire assumed they were heading back home to New York—until she noticed the flight path on the digital screen in front of her.
Her brows furrowed. "Wait… this isn't the route back to the States."
Morgan leaned back, crossing her long legs, looking effortlessly elegant as always. "Of course not. Did you really think I'd let our trip end so soon?"
Claire blinked at her. "Where are we going?"
Morgan took another sip of her espresso before answering, her voice smooth and confident. "Italy."
Claire's jaw nearly dropped. "Italy?! Why?"
Morgan's smirk deepened. "Because, darling, you deserve the best. And the best wine in the world isn't something you just order at a restaurant. You have to experience it straight from the source."
Claire could hardly believe it. In the span of a few days, she had been whisked away to a secret BDSM club, taken to Japan in a private jet, soaked in an exclusive onsen, dined on the finest Wagyu steak—and now they were heading to a wine villa in Italy?
She swallowed, feeling a mixture of excitement and disbelief. "Morgan, this is… beyond anything I could have ever imagined."
Morgan simply winked. "Get used to it, sweetheart."
—
Several hours later, the jet touched down in Tuscany, Italy. The golden afternoon sun bathed the rolling vineyards in a warm glow, making the entire landscape look like a scene from a painting.
A vintage convertible was waiting for them on the tarmac, the kind of car Claire had only seen in old European films.
Morgan took the driver's seat, sunglasses perched perfectly on her face. "Hop in," she said with a smirk.
Claire slid into the passenger seat, feeling the warm Italian breeze brush against her skin as Morgan sped down the winding country roads. The vineyards stretched for miles, the scent of fresh grapes and lavender filling the air.
Eventually, they arrived at a secluded villa nestled among the hills. It was breathtaking—old stone architecture, ivy creeping up the walls, and a stunning terrace overlooking the endless vineyards.
The owner of the villa, a distinguished Italian man with salt-and-pepper hair, greeted them warmly. "Ah, Ms. Pierce! buongiorno It's been too long!"
Morgan shook his hand. "Enzo, it's good to see you old friend. I brought someone special this time."
Enzo turned to Claire, his dark eyes twinkling. "Ah, bella! Mamma Mia Welcome! You are in for a treat." The older man said in a heavy Italian accent.
Claire blushed slightly at the attention but was quickly distracted by the beauty of the villa. The air smelled of ripe grapes and aged oak barrels, and the distant sound of Italian music played softly from inside.
Morgan led her to a private tasting room, where bottles of wine lined the walls, some dating back over a century.
"Let's start with something special," Morgan said, selecting a deep ruby-colored bottle from the collection. "This is a Barolo from 1958. Only a few bottles exist in the world."
Claire watched as the sommelier carefully poured the wine into a glass and handed it to her. She hesitated before taking a sip.
The flavor exploded on her tongue—rich, velvety, with notes of dark cherries and a hint of spice.
Claire closed her eyes, savoring it. "This is… unreal."
Morgan chuckled, her gaze lingering on Claire's lips. "Good wine should be like good sex—deep, intoxicating, and leaving you craving more."
Claire nearly choked on her sip, her cheeks flushing.
Morgan simply smirked and took a slow sip from her own glass.
The tasting continued, each wine more exquisite than the last. As the evening wore on, they moved outside to the villa's terrace, where a candlelit dinner had been prepared for them.
The food was divine—handmade pasta, truffle risotto, freshly baked bread—but Claire found herself more intoxicated by Morgan's presence than the wine.
The way she spoke, the way she commanded every moment with such effortless confidence… Claire had never met anyone like her.
By the time they finished dinner, Claire was tipsy, her body warm from both the wine and the undeniable attraction growing between them.
Morgan leaned in, her fingers brushing against Claire's as she refilled her glass. "You're beautiful when you let yourself relax."
Claire's breath hitched. The tension between them was undeniable now, electric and pulsing.
Morgan smirked. "Come. I have one more surprise for you tonight."
The evening air in Tuscany was warm, carrying the faint scent of grapevines and aged oak barrels as Claire and Morgan retreated to their private suite in the villa. The candlelight flickered, casting golden hues across the stone walls, and the remnants of their luxurious dinner sat untouched on the table.
Claire was still feeling the lingering effects of the wine, her body humming with warmth and an unspoken tension that had been building between her and Morgan since their journey began.
Morgan, ever composed, reached into the dresser drawer and pulled out a large velvet box, setting it in front of Claire.
Claire blinked at it. "What's this?"
Morgan leaned in, her emerald-green eyes locking onto Claire's with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "A gift. A symbol."
Curious, Claire opened the box, only to gasp when she saw what lay inside. A stunning diamond necklace, elegant yet bold, with an intricate design that sparkled under the candlelight. It wasn't just any necklace—it was a statement, a declaration.
Claire looked up at Morgan, her heart pounding. "Morgan… this is—"
Morgan took the necklace from the box, stepping behind Claire. She moved her hair aside with gentle fingers and fastened it around her neck, her breath warm against Claire's skin.
"This isn't just jewelry," Morgan murmured, her voice laced with meaning. "This is your collar. A sign that you belong to me."
Claire's breath caught in her throat. The weight of the diamonds, the possessiveness in Morgan's words—it should have felt overwhelming. Instead, it sent a thrill through her veins, a rush of excitement and submission she had never known before.
Morgan traced a finger down Claire's exposed collarbone, admiring how the diamonds glowed against her skin. "Do you accept it?"
Claire swallowed hard, meeting Morgan's gaze in the mirror across the room. There was no hesitation in her voice when she whispered, "Yes."
A satisfied smirk played on Morgan's lips. "Good girl."
Claire shuddered at those words, her body reacting in ways she didn't fully understand yet.
Morgan pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Let's get some rest. We leave for New York in the morning."
—
The next day, the jet soared through the sky, carrying them back to reality. Claire sat by the window, her fingers lightly grazing the necklace resting against her skin.
She had come so far in just a few days—from the heartbroken housewife who caught her husband cheating to a woman who had been introduced to a world of passion, power, and submission she never knew existed.
Morgan sat across from her, sipping her espresso as she typed away on her laptop. The composed, dominant attorney was back in work mode, but Claire knew now—beneath that icy exterior was a woman who had chosen her to wear this collar.
And Claire wasn't sure she ever wanted to take it off.