POV: EVE Eve woke to sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows and the immediate, uncomfortable awareness of wetness between her thighs.
Again.
She’d been dreaming about him.
About his hands, his mouth, his cock…the cock he still refused to give her despite making her come so many times yesterday she’d lost count.
Her body ached.
Not from soreness this time, but from need.
Constant, relentless, maddening need that had kept her tossing and turning all night despite the exhaustion.
Dimitri’s arm was draped across her waist, heavy and possessive even in sleep.
His chest pressed against her back, his breath warm against her neck.
She tried to shift away….needed space, needed to think, needed to not feel his body against hers because it made her want things she shouldn’t want….but his arm tightened immediately.
“Going somewhere, cara mia?” His voice was rough with sleep, dark and intimate in the quiet morning.
“I have to get ready for work.” “Mmm.
Yes.
Your first day back at the office since becoming mine.” His hand slid down her stomach, over her hip.
“Are you wet?” Her face flamed.
“That’s none of your….” His hand moved between her thighs, fingers sliding through her folds, and she gasped at the contact.
“Soaked,” he murmured approvingly.
“Did you dream about me, piccola?” “No.” He pushed two fingers inside her without warning, making her cry out.
“Don’t lie to me.
Your body can’t.” He fingered her slowly, lazily, like he had all the time in the world.
Building her up, watching her squirm, listening to her desperate little whimpers.
Then, just as she was about to come, he pulled his fingers out.
“Not yet,” he said, rolling away.
“You don’t come until I say.
Remember?” She wanted to scream.
Wanted to finish herself off.
Wanted to throw something at his smug, beautiful face.
“Get dressed,” he said, standing and stretching like he hadn’t just left her aching and desperate.
“Wear the outfit I picked out.
It’s in the closet.” “I can pick my own clothes.” “Not anymore.
For the next six months, I dress you.
I control what you wear, what you eat, when you sleep, when you come.
Everything, Eve.
That’s what you agreed to.” She wanted to argue.
Should argue.
But her pussy was still throbbing, her body still desperate for release, and fighting seemed exhausting when she knew he’d win anyway.
She went to the closet…..her side now, apparently, filled with designer clothes she definitely hadn’t bought…..and found the outfit he’d selected.
A pencil skirt.
Black, professional, but shorter than she’d normally wear for the office.
A silk blouse.
Cream-colored, elegant, with a neckline that dipped just slightly too low.
Matching black heels.
Lace underwear that was more decoration than function.
And on top of the pile, a small box.
She opened it, and her stomach dropped.
A phone stand.
Simple, black, adjustable height.
“Why…” She turned to find him watching her from the doorway, already dressed in one of his impeccable suits.
“Why did you give me a phone stand?” His smile made her shiver.
Not with cold.
With something else entirely.
“You’ll know what to do with it when the time comes,” he said, his voice promising wicked things.
“Now get dressed.
You have a meeting this morning, don’t you?
Mid-year audit?” How did he know that?
“Breakfast is ready,” he continued.
“Don’t keep me waiting.” He disappeared down the hallway, leaving her standing there with a phone stand she didn’t understand and a body that wouldn’t stop aching for him.
**** POV: DIMITRI Dimitri sat at the breakfast table, scrolling through emails on his phone, watching Eve from the corner of his eye as she ate her omelet with small, precise bites.
She’d dressed exactly as he’d instructed.
The skirt hugged her curves perfectly.
The blouse showed just enough cleavage to be distracting without being inappropriate.
Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail that made him want to wrap it around his fist.
She looked professional.
Polished.
Perfect.
And under all that perfection, she was his.
Desperate and aching and one command away from complete surrender.
“Marco will drive you to the office,” he said without looking up from his phone.
“He’ll wait outside all day.
If you need anything, call him.” “I don’t need a babysitter.” “You need protection.
There’s a difference.” He set his phone down, met her eyes.
“Someone sent me a message last night.
About you.” Her face went pale.
“What kind of message?” “A threat.
Vague, but threats against what’s mine are never ignored.” He reached across the table, took her hand.
“You don’t leave the office without Marco.
You don’t go anywhere alone.
Not until I find out who sent that message and handle them.” “Handle them how?” “However I need to.” His grip tightened.
“You’re mine to protect now, Eve.
That means I don’t take chances with your safety.” She pulled her hand back, but he could see she was scared.
Good.
She should understand how dangerous this world was.
How dangerous he was.
How far he’d go to keep her safe.
“The phone stand,” he said casually, returning to his coffee.
“Did you pack it?” “Yes, but I still don’t understand why…” “You will.
Trust me.” Her eyes narrowed.
“I don’t trust you.” “You should.
I’m the only person in this city who will always tell you the truth, even when it’s ugly.” He stood, buttoned his suit jacket.
“I have meetings all morning.
But I’ll call you later.
Make sure you answer.” “What if I’m busy?” “Then you stop being busy.
When I call, you answer.
That’s the rule.” She wanted to argue.
He could see it in the set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes.
But she nodded.
Progress.
He walked around the table, tilted her chin up, and kissed her.
Deep and possessive and claiming, tasting coffee and defiance on her tongue.
“Have a good day at work, cara mia,” he murmured against her lips.
“Try not to think about me too much.” An impossible request, and they both knew it.