Damien

The world outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse is a blur of lights and noise, but inside, everything is calm—too calm. The sound of my expensive leather shoes hitting the cold marble floors echoes in the vast, empty space. Another successful deal. Another million added to my empire.

Yet, tonight, I feel… empty.

It’s always the same—business, power, luxury—but something’s missing.

And I know exactly what it is.

The moment I stepped through the door, I could feel the absence of her presence in the room. Where is she? I try to ignore the slight irritation building in my chest. She’s a sugar baby, nothing more. A beautiful distraction. Someone I indulge in when I want a fleeting taste of something… real. But tonight, my patience is wearing thin. There’s something in the air, a tension I can’t ignore.

I find her in the living room, seated on the plush velvet sofa, but she’s not alone. Another man.

Of course.

He’s leaning in too close, laughing too loudly, whispering something that makes her smile. That smile… It pisses me off.

I stand at the entrance, arms crossed, watching them. She doesn’t belong to him. Not in the way she belongs to me.

He’s looking at her like he has the right to. Touching her arm like it’s his, making her laugh as if he’s the one who controls her every move.

I could feel my jaw tightening, my fingers twitching at my sides. My mind races with thoughts of what I could do, what I should do. The instinct to mark her, to remind her of exactly who she belongs to, grows with every second they share that laugh.

She’s mine. I walk in, my presence so commanding that both their heads snap in my direction. The man instantly stands, trying to mask the tension in his posture, but it’s too late. I can see it. I can feel it.

Her eyes flicker toward me, a flash of uncertainty passing through them. But she doesn’t move. She doesn’t get up. She’s still sitting there, in his space, in his moment.

A part of me wants to leave—to let her make her choice and deal with the consequences later. But I know I won’t. I can’t. Not when she’s like this.

"You didn’t tell me we were having company." My voice is cold, the words deliberate. I’m not asking; I’m stating. She raises a brow, lips curling into a teasing smile, but I can see the flicker of guilt behind it. She knows. She knows she’s overstepping, but she wants to see how far she can push me.

"I didn’t think you’d mind." Her voice is playful, but I hear the challenge beneath it. And I can’t stand it.

The man looks between us, sensing the shift in the air, but he doesn’t move fast enough.

I take a step closer, my eyes never leaving her, my hand brushing against her shoulder, possessively, deliberately. The way she stiffens slightly beneath my touch makes the jealousy burn hotter. She’s not used to me marking her in front of someone else.

Her eyes widen. She knows. She knows exactly what I’m doing. I lean in, my lips barely grazing her ear as I whisper, low and dangerous, “You belong to me. Don’t forget it.”

Her breath hitches, but I pull away just as quickly, watching the confusion and frustration flash across her face. She hates being reminded of how little freedom she has in my world.

The man clears his throat awkwardly. His eyes flicker between us, but I see the subtle hesitation in his movements, the shift in the air. He knows this isn’t a battle he’ll win.

“Get out,” I order him, voice like ice.

The man doesn’t hesitate for a second. He grabs his jacket, shooting one last glance at my sugar baby before quickly leaving. I don’t watch him go. I’m too focused on the woman who thinks she has the right to play games with me.

I take a seat next to her, my presence almost suffocating. Her face is a mix of defiance and something else—annoyance? Amusement? She’s trying to hide the smile tugging at the corners of her lips, but I can see it.

“You think you can just invite other men in here and make me watch?” The words slip from my mouth, laced with the edge of a warning.

She knows she’s pushed me too far this time.

And that’s exactly what she wants.

I lean in, my voice colder than before. “I don’t share, darling. You should remember that.”