Chapter 4 #2
"Kneel," I tell Selene. "Right here. Don't move."
She drops immediately, the bells chiming, assuming the position I've trained her in—knees spread, hands behind her back, eyes down.
I move to my laptop, connecting to Peter's feed.
"Boss," Peter's voice comes through the earpiece. "Check the closet. Back wall."
The camera moves through her apartment to her bedroom closet.
Behind her clothes, they've found something interesting.
A wall covered in newspaper clippings, photos, research—all of it about her parents' murder.
All about the investigation that went nowhere.
But it's what's in the center that makes my blood run cold.
A sketch.
A drawing of a figure in a black mask.
The proportions are right.
The height, the build, even the way I held the gun.
She's drawn her parents' killer from memory.
She's drawn me.
"There's more," Paul's voice cuts in. He's holding a journal, reading: "I dream about him. The man who killed them. Sometimes I hate him. Sometimes I thank him. Because without that night, I'd never know what I really am. What I need. The darkness calls to darkness."
Jesus Christ.
"Bag everything," I order. "Bring it here. Discreetly."
I close the laptop and turn back to Selene.
She's remained perfectly still, a statue of submission. But there's something different now that I know she's been obsessing over me—the real me—for years.
That she's been drawing me, dreaming of me, thanking me for destroying her life because it revealed her true nature.
"Stand," I tell her.
She rises gracefully, the bells chiming.
"We're going out," I inform her. "But first, you need to understand something."
I crowd her against the wall, hand around her throat, feeling her pulse race under my fingers.
"Whatever you think you need, whatever you think you are…you're mine now. The past doesn't matter. Your life before doesn't matter. Only this. Only us. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Say it."
"I'm yours. Only yours. Nothing else matters."
If only she knew how much the past matters, how intrinsically we're connected by blood and violence.
Too late now.
The meeting is with Arkady Morozov, who runs the Eastern European trade routes through the city.
He thinks he can negotiate better terms now that I'm "distracted" by a new toy.
He's about to learn otherwise.
I conduct business from my office at the legitimate front—an upscale restaurant that serves as cover for the real operations below.
It's closed on Sundays, giving us privacy.
Selene kneels beside my chair on a plush cushion, naked except for the jewelry, my hand casually tangled in her hair.
Arkady Morozov enters with two bodyguards and stops short when he sees her.
"Cassius," he says carefully, eyes trying not to drift to the naked girl at my feet. "This is... unexpected."
"Is it? I thought you knew everything about my operations. Isn't that what you've been telling people? That you know my weaknesses?"
He shifts uncomfortably. "I merely suggested that perhaps you've been less focused lately."
I tighten my grip in Selene's hair, and she gasps softly. "Do I seem unfocused to you?"
"No, but?—"
"Sit."
He sits across from my desk, trying to maintain eye contact with me and failing.
His gaze keeps drifting to Selene, to the way she leans into my touch, to the marks covering her skin, to the jewelry marking her as property.
"The terms of our agreement," I begin, releasing Selene's hair to pick up the contract. "You want to renegotiate."
"The thirty percent you take is excessive?—"
"Forty."
"What?"
"It's forty percent now. For your disrespect in assuming I'm weakened." I reach for the plate of fruit on my desk, select a strawberry, and offer it to Selene.
She takes it delicately from my fingers, tongue flicking out to clean them.
Arkady Morozov shifts in his chair.
"That's robbery!"
"That's the cost of business." I feed her another piece, this time letting her suck my fingers longer than necessary. "Accept the new terms, or I'll find someone else to handle the eastern routes. Perhaps the Covenant would be interested."
His face pales. "The Covenant are amateurs."
"Then accepting forty percent should be easy."
He wants to argue further, but Selene chooses that moment to shift, the bells chiming, the movement drawing attention to her body.
I can see the moment Arkady Morozov gives up, realizing he's been outmaneuvered.
"Fine. Forty percent."
"Good." I slide the amended contract across the desk. "Sign."
While he signs, I continue playing with Selene, running my fingers through her hair, along her collar, tugging the chain between her breasts.
She remains perfectly still except for her breathing, which quickens at each touch.
"This is unprofessional," Arkady Morozov mutters as he finishes signing.
"This is Hell," I correct. "Different rules. Now get out."
He leaves with his men, and the moment the door closes, Selene looks up at me.
"You used me to unsettle him."
"Yes."
"Use me however you want."
Christ.
This girl will be my undoing.
I lift her onto my desk, spreading her legs wide.
The mirror behind my desk shows everything—her flushed skin, her pussy already wet and swollen, the jewelry glinting in the light, the plug still nestled inside her.
"Watch yourself," I command. "Watch what I do to you."
I start with my fingers, slow and deliberate, making her see herself stretched around them.
She's so wet already, has been since this morning when I denied her.
I work her methodically, curling my fingers to find that spot that makes her scream, but pulling back every time she gets close.
"Please," she begs. "Please, Sir, I need?—"
"What do you need?"
"To come. Please let me come."
"You haven't earned it yet."
I open my desk drawer, pulling out toys I keep here for precisely this purpose.
Glass and steel that make her gasp when she sees them.
I start with the glass, cold and unforgiving, working it inside her alongside my fingers until she's stretched wide, sobbing from the fullness.
"Look," I command when her eyes close. "Watch yourself being used."
She forces her eyes open, watching in the mirror as I fuck her with the toys, bringing her to the edge over and over.
Her phone buzzes on my desk.
David's name appears on the screen.
Perfect timing.
"Read it," I order, still working the toy inside her.
With shaking hands, she picks up the phone. "He says—oh god—he says he knows I'm somewhere downtown. He's been tracking—fuck, please—tracking my phone location."
I thrust the toy deeper, making her arch. "What else?"
"He's coming to find me. He thinks—" She gasps as I curl my fingers just right. "He thinks I'm being held against my will."
"Are you?"
"No! No, I want this, I want you, please?—"
"Text him back."
Her eyes widen. "What?"
"You heard me. Tell him exactly where you are and what you're doing."
"I can't?—"
I pull the toys out, leaving her empty and desperate. "Then you don't come."
"Wait! I'll do it. I'll text him."
I stand between her spread legs, cock pressing against her entrance, but not entering. "Tell him you're getting fucked by someone who actually knows how to use you. Tell him you've never been happier."
With trembling fingers, she types.
I watch over her shoulder, making corrections, making it cruder, more explicit:
David, stop calling. I'm exactly where I want to be—getting fucked by a real man who knows how to make me scream. I've come more times in two days than I during our entire relationship. Don't contact me again.
When she hits send, I reward her by slamming into her fully and making her scream.
The phone rings immediately.
"Answer it. On speaker."
She does, and his panicked voice fills the room. "Selene, what the hell? That message—that can't be you."
"It's me," she gasps as I fuck her brutally. "This is who I am, David."
"You're sick. You need help. Tell me where you are, I'll come get you."
I take the phone from her, never stopping my thrusts. "She's busy right now, David. Call again, and I'll have you killed."
I hang up and toss the phone aside, focusing on destroying Selene properly.
I fuck her on the desk until she's screaming, then bend her over it to take her from behind. The plug makes her even tighter, every thrust pushing against it.
"Who owns you?" I demand, fisting her hair.
"You! Cassius, you own me!"
"Who's the only one who can make you come?"
"You, Sir, only you!"
I reach around to work her clit, and she explodes, convulsing so hard she nearly blacks out.
I follow her over, filling her completely, marking her inside as thoroughly as I've marked her outside.
The afternoon continues with me showing her more of my world.
I take her to the warehouse where shipments come in, let her see the scope of my operations.
She watches me inspect weapons, drugs, everything that makes my empire run. She doesn't flinch. If anything, she seems fascinated.
"This is what you really are," she says, watching me check a shipment of automatic weapons. "A king of the underworld."
"Does that frighten you?"
"It should." She moves closer, the bells chiming. "But it doesn't. It makes me want you more."
My phone rings.
Vincent.
"We found who's pulling the records. Rebecca Torres, investigative journalist. She's doing a piece on unsolved murders for the anniversary. And Cassius—she's specifically interested in the daughter. Someone tipped her that Selene's been seen at Purgatory."
I step away from Selene, lowering my voice. "Handle the journalist."
"Permanently?"
"Discretely. Make it look like an accident."
"And the source?"
"Find them. I want to know who's talking about my business."
I end the call to find Selene watching me with those dark eyes.
"You're going to kill someone," she says. Not a question.
"Does that bother you?"
She considers the weight of what I'm asking her. "It should. But nothing about you bothers me anymore. You could tell me you killed a hundred people, and I'd still kneel at your feet."
If only she knew she's kneeling for the man who killed the two people who mattered most to her.
That evening, I bring her back to my bedroom.
The plug has been inside her all day, keeping her ready, and now it's time to claim that last part of her.
"Have you ever?" I ask, working her open slowly with my fingers alongside the plug.
"No," she gasps. "Never. Only you."
Only me.
The words echo as I remove the plug, replace it with my cock, working in slowly.
She's so tight, so hot, trembling as I claim this last virginity.
"Breathe," I tell her, holding still once I'm fully inside. "Relax for me."
She does, trusting me completely even as I'm violating her in the most intimate way.
When I start to move, she moans, surprised by the pleasure mixing with the pain.
"Touch yourself," I command. "Make yourself come while I fuck your ass."
Her hand flies to her clit, working frantically as I take her roughly, all gentleness gone now.
She comes with a scream, convulsing around me, and the sight of her completely surrendered to me triggers my own release.
After, she collapses, overwhelmed.
I carry her to the bathroom, clean her carefully, then bring her back to bed.
She curls into me immediately, and I allow it.
Another broken rule—I don't cuddle, don't provide comfort.
But with her, everything's different.
"Tomorrow's my last night," she murmurs against my chest.
"Yes."
"I don't want to leave."
"Then don't."
She looks up at me, hope in her eyes. "You mean that?"
I shouldn't.
This is dangerous, keeping her close when the truth could surface at any moment.
But looking at her, marked and claimed and mine, I know I can't let her go.
"You're mine," I tell her. "That doesn't end after three nights."
She kisses me then, soft and sweet, nothing like the brutal fucking we've been doing.
It's somehow more intimate than everything else, and it terrifies me.
My phone buzzes.
A text from Paul:
The journalist has been handled. But boss, we found her source. You're not going to like this.
I ignore it for now, focusing on the girl in my arms.
Tomorrow I'll deal with whoever's been talking.
Tomorrow I'll figure out how to keep her while hiding the truth.
Tonight, she's mine, and that's all that matters.
Even if I'm the monster she should be running from.
Even if the truth might destroy us both.