Chapter 5
Silas
She was nothing like my ex-wife. She sat beside me, licking her spoon clean of the lemon cheesecake, utterly unbothered. Cool, calm and collected. The very picture of feminine restraint—except for the way that tongue slid across silver.
She’d turned twenty-two last month. A grown woman now.
And Everly was all woman.
That dress she wore? Criminal. The way it clung to her curves—nipped in at the waist, hugged her hips, teased the shape of her thighs. It was obscene. And yet, she somehow managed to look like a goddamn virgin sacrifice and a sex goddess at the same time.
I’d gone straight to my safe earlier. Tore that brown envelope open like it owed me something.
Nothing about her new job.
That pissed me off more than I cared to admit.
It meant I couldn’t trap her in my company. Couldn’t keep her under my roof with some pretty little contract and a fake salary while I watched her. I’d been denied that control—and that stung.
My eyes dropped lower.
Her chest rose and fell with each breath. Full. Firm. Exceptionally healthy. The golden sheen of her skin made my palms itch to touch her—taste her. She hadn’t noticed yet that my wedding ring was gone.
She still thought that I was her mother's husband.
I imagined Eris’s face when she found out.
Rage wouldn’t cover it.
She’d lose everything—me, the house, her job. Her reputation. Her only daughter.
No. That wasn’t enough.
I’d drive the blade deeper.
Everly would earn the right to carry my seed.
And that thought didn’t disgust me. It thrilled me.
She was hard. Shaped by years of maternal neglect. Hardened, but not broken. I could see it in the set of her jaw. In the way she carried herself like she didn’t owe anyone softness.
But what if—
What if I didn’t have to break her?
What if I could get her to participate?
Willingly.
Because there was no power like the power someone gave you.
And once she gave me that—I’d train her to be my little toy.
Yes.
My personal little fucktoy.
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I let her off the hook tonight when she began to yawn. Connie mentioned she’d travelled by train, then bus, then walked the remaining stretch—two bags and a full suitcase in tow. All alone and exhausted.
I walked her to her bedroom door, my gaze lingering on those bare legs and child-bearing hips. I measured her silently, like assessing a valuable asset.
Perfect proportions.
Young. Unspoiled.
Exceptional breeding stock.
There were no red flags in her file, but I’d requested the extended dossier anyway. I didn’t rely on luck—I verified my investments.
Now I sat in my office, cigar smouldering in the ash tray, drink in hand, scrolling through the photos my PI retrieved.
She didn’t use her real name online—not on any platform. Everything private. Everything locked down.
And yet, I had it all in front of me.
Hidden profiles. Deleted posts. Direct messages. Photographs she’d never meant anyone to see.
The file was immaculate.
I sent one concise message to my PA: Clear my calendar for the next three days. Limited availability.
Everly Mehta had become my sole priority.
I lifted the cigar, drew in smoke until my lungs burned pleasantly, then exhaled slowly—savouring the bitter taste.
My finger drifted to one of the photos—a candid shot, her hair messy, laughing at something off-screen. Not posed. Not polished.
Just her.
I traced down the line of her jaw. Heart-shaped face. Full lips. Intelligent eyes.
I would own her.
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I should’ve gone to bed. Past midnight, and the house had gone still. That thick, old-money silence. The kind that muffled sins behind velvet drapes. It was mine now, just like she would be.
Sleep wouldn’t come. Not while she was under my roof.
Not while I hadn’t seen her one more time.
I put out my cigar, finished the last inch of scotch, and rose from my chair. My office light snapped off behind me.
The hallway was dark. Only the low wall lights illuminated the path—soft gold pools of light stretching down the corridor. I walked quietly, hands in my pockets, shoes soundless on the polished wood.
This wasn’t impulse.
This was control.
I paused outside her door.
Not Eris’s old guest room—not anymore. Everly had claimed it simply by existing in it. I could feel her on the other side.
I stood still for a minute.
Listening.
Nothing.
I turned the handle slowly.
The door opened without a sound.
I paused again.
Then—
A quiet, steady inhale. A faint exhale.
She was asleep. I crept closer.
Moonlight spilled through the balcony doors and washed over her body—long hair fanned across the pillow, arm curled beneath it, breathing slow and even. She’d kicked one leg out from under the duvet.
Of course she had.
Even asleep she tempted.
My eyes drifted—bare thigh, soft curves under the blanket, mouth slightly parted from deep sleep.
She looked younger like this. Softer.
And that was dangerous.
Because for a moment, I felt something move in my chest.
Not pity.
Possession.
She shifted slightly in her sleep, and the blanket slipped lower.
I stepped closer—not enough to wake her, just enough to see. To confirm.
Her breathing stayed steady.
I stood there longer than I should have.
Longer than a decent man would.
Good thing I was neither.
Her hair had fallen across her cheek. Without thinking, I reached out and brushed it back with one finger.
She didn’t stir.
My palm hovered over her throat—close enough to feel her pulse against my skin.
Mine.
Not yet.
But soon.
I withdrew my hand, careful not to disturb her.
As I backed toward the door, I caught my reflection in the dark window—barely visible, just a silhouette of a man watching a sleeping girl.
A predator in his own kingdom.
I left the room silently, closing the door with the softest click.
Only once it latched did I allow myself the smallest smile.
She was here. Under my care. Under my control.
And she had no idea.
Tomorrow would be the first move.
My little toy would learn what kind of man I was.
But tonight, I'd suffer a cold shower.