Chapter 215 Nia

• Nia's phone buzzed on her nightstand, the screen lighting up the dim bedroom. She groaned, body still aching from the limo's brutal claiming—ass cheeks tender, pussy swollen from Vardo's fingers and the relentless spanking. Two days had passed since the fundraiser, her mind a whirlwind of Vince's warm praise and Vardo's possessive fury. The rebuttal speech had landed well, media shifting from scandal to Vince's resolve, but guilt gnawed at her. She'd drafted lines defending the administration while Vardo's cum had dried on her skin.
• The text was from the burner: Private jet. Dulles. 0600. Pack light. Negotiation awaits. Her pulse quickened. Arms exports—Vardo's latest pitch to skirt regulations, funneling weapons to allies under the table. Officially, she was there to represent Vince's interests, ensure no blowback. Unofficially, she knew it was a trap, his way of pulling her deeper into his web. She should refuse, alert security, end this madness. But her fingers typed Confirmed, body betraying her with a fresh throb between her legs.
• Dawn broke cold as the black SUV whisked her to the tarmac. Vardo waited by the Gulfstream, suit impeccable, eyes devouring her in jeans and a simple blouse. No greeting, just a nod to board. The cabin was luxurious—leather seats, bar stocked, flight attendant vanishing to the dickpit once airborne. Nia settled across from him, files on exports in her lap. 'This better be professional,' she said, voice firm despite the flutter in her stomach.