Chapter 18 - Vince #4
Her eyes closed for a second. When they opened, something steadier sat behind them. Trust. I felt it like a weight I wanted to carry.
“Say it back for me,” I murmured. “So I know it’s settled in your head before you walk out of here.”
She took a breath, and then repeated it all back to me, perfectly. My chest eased properly then, like the last lock had clicked into place.
“And who am I to you?”
Her fingers slid up. “You’re my dom. The man I chose to trust with all of it.”
My hands tightened just enough on her thighs, a possessive squeeze I didn’t bother taming.
I wasn’t done.
“What else, baby?” My voice dropped, rougher, the memory of last night dragging through me. “What name did I earn last night and will keep earning every fucking day?”
Her lashes dipped, then lifted like she was forcing herself to meet my eyes. That’s my girl.
“You’re my daddy,” she breathed. “My dom. My… everything.”
Something fierce and ugly and fucking holy uncoiled in my chest. Daddy.
Mine. It hit like a brand from the inside out.
That word had never meant softness to me before her; it was a title men threw around, in scenes, without understanding the weight of it.
Our dynamic wasn’t a scene. This wasn’t kink.
In her mouth, it felt like a vow. Like she’d wrapped a leash around my throat and pulled—and I liked it.
Every Crow lesson I’d ever had about control, owning the board, never letting anyone be your weakness, went quiet for a beat.
All I could think was: mine. My sub. My girl.
My fucking responsibility. I wanted to drag her back into bed and keep her there for a week, fill her up and wear her out until dynasty couldn’t pry her away with a crowbar.
“Good girl.” My thumbs stroked the backs of her thighs, claiming every inch my hands could reach. “Don’t forget that when they start pulling at you from every direction. You’re his niece out there. You’re mine everywhere.”
My fingers pressed a little firmer into her skin, not letting her look away. I tipped my head, gave her that look that always made her pulse jump.
“Who are you calling tonight?”
Understanding flickered in her eyes, followed by that sweet, shy defiance I loved breaking down. Her gaze dropped to my mouth, then climbed back up.
“Daddy.” Her voice was barely there, but it still went straight to my cock. “I’m calling Daddy tonight.”
There it was. Perfect. My girl correcting herself.
“Such a good fucking sub.” The praise came out rough, honest. “Baby, you make me so proud. Learning so fast.”
Proud didn’t even cover it. Caveman, dynasty heir, syndicate enforcer, all of it agreed on one thing: this woman was mine.
And later tonight, when the stupid event was over, she’d be right back where she belonged—on a call, answering to Daddy.
“Now I really have to go.” She leaned in and kissed my cheek, “And don’t—” another tiny wince as she straightened “—don’t watch the videos tonight, okay? Or the live stream. Or the pictures. The Veil drones always catch my worst side.”
I froze for half a moment.
The event was on Veil.
Of course it was. Dynasty loved nothing more than broadcasting their own pageantry and calling it history. Cameras in the chandeliers, floating drones over the dance floor, commentary in real time from people who had no idea what it cost her to smile.
I didn’t have the app.
I hated Veil. I hated the drones that recorded everything, the way people shared everything, the quiet power plays sitting underneath every upload. I hated dynasty profiles that turned marriages into content and wives into trending topics.
What I hated most, standing there with my hands on her thighs, was the idea of her being turned into content for the world.
Dynasties would judge her appearance. The outer world, would live the curated event through her.
Judge her with no context. Some through their own lens of envy, others seeing beauty, and the select few would see sadness under her polished smile.
I brushed my thumb over a spot on her leg, forcing my voice even. “I don’t need Veil to know when you’re not okay, baby.”
Her mouth curved, soft. She thought I meant it figuratively. I didn’t correct her. I’d built a life on reading body language and microexpressions; I could track her with a single photo.
“Text when you’re in the car. I want to know how the pain is after five minutes sitting up.”
“You’re relentless.”
She kissed me once, then stepped back toward the elevator, moving carefully but with her spine a little straighter.
“I’ll send you the plate.” She glanced back as the elevator doors slid open. “And maybe one of my heels, if they don’t murder me first.”
“I’ll be marking you like a report card. Food, pain level, compliance.”
“You would.”
Yeah. I would. And for the first time in my life, the thought slid in.
Maybe I should get the damn app.
Which men leaned in when she smiled, and how fast I could get their names, their titles, leverage if I needed to break something later.
“That’s because I love you. And because dynasty catering should be illegal.” I couldn’t stop myself from feeling smug, staring at her. So fucking beautiful. And so fucking mine.
She laughed for real this time, the sound bright enough to crack through my ribs. “I love you too.”
The elevator closed and I hated that it took her.
I reached for my phone before the doors had even sealed. Pinned her chat to the top where it belonged there, above business, above blood. This woman was going to ruin me.
My thumb hovered, then slid to the brothers’ group chat. If I was going to bite the bullet and finally learn how to use Veil, I’d have to suffer through Luca and Bastion laughing themselves sick while they explained it.
Worth it, if it meant one more way to keep eyes on my girl.