I step into the condo and freeze when I catch sight of her.She is curled up on the couch, a book forgotten in her lap, her legs tucked under her.She is so fucking beautiful she steals my breath away for a second.Her long hair is up in a messy bun and she is wearing a loose T-shirt and shorts.I inhale sharply, thinking about dragging my tongue all the way up her legs to her pussy.She looks up when she hears me, wary, like she can feel something has shifted in me.She is not wrong.I don’t waste time.
“There’s a fundraising gala tomorrow night,” I say, shrugging off my coat.“You’ll be coming with me.”
She blinks, then sits upright.“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”I toss the keys onto the table and walk toward her.“You’ll wear the dress I send.Hair, makeup… The works.I’ve arranged for a team to come prepare you.”
She stands now, the book slipping to the floor with a soft thud.“No.”
I pause.“No?”
She crosses her arms, chin lifting defiantly.“I’m not going to be paraded around like some arm candy in front of your criminal friends and political puppets.I’d rather be locked up in here forever.”
My jaw clenches.“You already are locked up in here.”
Her eyes flash.“Exactly.So let’s not pretend this is something it’s not.”
I take a slow step forward, closing the space between us.“This is exactly what it is.You are mine.And the time has come for everyone to realize that.”
She laughs, bitter and sharp.“Oh, how romantic.What an honor, to be displayed like a possession.”
“You think that’s what this is?”I say, my voice dangerously quiet.“You think I’m doing this to show off?”
“I don’t know what you’re doing,” she snaps, her voice shaking.“But I know what I won’t do.I won’t smile and pretend like this is some fairytale while you parade me around like your mistress.”
“You’re not a mistress,” I growl, stepping closer.
“Oh, really?What am I then?”she shoots back.“You haven’t exactly defined this arrangement, Damiano.Am I your prisoner?A pet?A pretty face to soften your reputation?Oh wait, I remember now.I’m yourwhore.”She sneers.
I let the words hit.Let her get it all out.Then I lean in just enough that she has to tilt her chin to keep eye contact.“You are mine,” I say simply.
Her breath hitches, fury and confusion warring in her expression.“I don’t want to be yours if it means being treated like something you own,” she bites out.
“You already are,” I say, softer now.“And you are coming to the gala.”
“No.”
I nod, once.“Yes.”
She exhales through her nose like she might actually explode.“You are infuriating.”
“You’ll thank me later.”
“Oh, I doubt it.”
I turn away before I say something I’ll regret.This isn’t a negotiation.She doesn’t see it yet, but this is how I will protect her.This is how I legitimize her place beside me.She thinks she is being paraded—what she doesn’t know is that this is the safest she will ever be.No one touches what’s mine.Not once she is seen.Because when she walks into that gala on my arm, the world will know.And no one—no enemy, no rival, no woman I’ve ever known—will ever doubt who she belongs to.
* * * *
Lily
The knock on the bedroom door is polite, but I know it’s not a request.The styling team enters like a whirlwind—four professionals with hushed voices and hands that immediately start measuring, assessing, fluffing and fussing.I sit there frozen, wrapped in a robe, glaring at the vanity mirror like I could burn it down with my stare.Infuriating, overbearing jerk!I can’t believe how he controls my life, how he controls me, like I am something he owns.
“This will look stunning on you,” the stylist purrs, holding up an emerald green silk gown that glitters subtly under the light.“Off-shoulder, dramatic slit, perfect for your frame.”
I don’t respond.If I speak, I might scream.
I hate this.I hate the pampering.I hate the way they coo about how I’ll “steal the show”.I hate how carefully they pin my hair back, curling a few strands to perfectly frame my face, as if I am some doll about to be displayed in a glass box.But more than that, I hate how a small, shameful, part of me wants to know what I’ll look like when they’re done.
