The Heiress in the Dog Cage

Then she looked up at me and smiled.

Coffee had splashed across the floor. Damian's charcoal trousers were soaked dark from thigh to knee, and a porcelain cup lay on its side near his chair. Vanessa, however, stayed kneeling between his legs with napkins in her hand, slow enough to make innocence look staged.

"Nora," she said sweetly, "you really should knock. Damian didn't invite you in."

She did not get to finish.

"Get out," Damian said.

Vanessa blinked. "I was only helping you clean up."

"I said get out."

He did not raise his voice. He did not need to. Vanessa rose with humiliation pinched tight across her face, shot me one razor-thin look, and left the office.

The door closed. For a second, all I could smell was coffee, leather, and the cool cedar of Damian's cologne.

I placed the folder on his desk. "Here are the revisions from last night."

Damian watched me carefully, as if he was waiting for the damage to land.

I was annoyed, yes, but not because I believed Vanessa's little performance. I had eyes. Damian looked at her with impatience, not desire.

"You should change," I said. "Coffee burns hurt."

His expression softened by a fraction.

"Wait here."

He went into the private lounge attached to his office. The door shut behind him.

I stood alone in the office, and my fingers drifted to the lipstick in my pocket.

The comments started up at once.

[@BookTokAfterDark: That smile was a setup. Nora clocked it.]

[@SpiceShelf: Take out Crimson Vow. I need to see the heir short-circuit.]

[@MafiaMutt: Shirtless Damian behind that door? Paywall energy.]

I admitted it. I had a mean streak.

I took out the lipstick, clicked the cap loose, and pretended to study the last page of the file. Then I let the tube roll slowly between my fingers.

The lounge door swung open so fast it nearly hit the wall.

Damian stood there in nothing but dark trousers. His shirt was gone, leaving broad shoulders, a lean waist, and an old pale scar under his ribs on full display. He looked dangerous, half dressed, and much less composed than he wanted to be.

My gaze dipped before I could stop it.

Damian went red all over.

"Nora." His voice was raw. "What are you doing?"

I held up the file and tried to look serious. "I remembered one more place that needs my signature."

"Not with that." The answer came too fast. "Use a pen from my desk."

I nodded, but I did not move.

Damian shut his eyes for a second, like he was trying to survive something both embarrassing and sweet.

"I'm sorry you saw this."

"It's fine," I said. "I know you're not a creep."

He had just started to relax when I looked him over again and let my voice go soft.

"So the coffee did that? Impressive."

Damian stopped breathing for half a second.

The comments went feral.

[@SteamQueen: Nora Vale has entered her menace era.]

[@SoftDomScholar: Two years of polite assistant behavior and this was hiding underneath? Bless.]

[@RomanceGremlin: Please proceed to member-only content immediately.]

The office door opened again.

Vanessa stood there holding a fresh suit. The second she saw us, her face changed.

"What are you two doing?"

She sounded like a girlfriend catching a cheating boyfriend, which would have been funny if I had been in a better mood.

I turned my head. "Leave."

Damian's face went colder than mine.

"Vanessa, HR will reassign you by the end of the day. You won't report to this floor again."

"What?"

"Don't make me repeat myself."

Her eyes shone with angry tears, but she knew better than to argue. She left and shut the door too hard.

The second the latch clicked, Damian crossed the office, took my wrist, and pulled me into the lounge.

The lock turned behind us.

My back met the door. His bare chest was in front of me, all heat, cedar, and restraint. He covered my hand with his, trapping the lipstick between our palms.

"Nora," he said, voice wrecked. "You already know, don't you?"

I looked up. "Know what?"

He stared at me as if he had finally decided to surrender the last of his pride.

"The lipstick is bonded to me."

My heart jumped.

"When you touch it, I feel it. When you use it, I feel that too." His voice dropped. "I know how bad that sounds. If you feel violated, I will destroy it right now. I will apologize, stay away from you, and accept whatever you decide."

There he was, not the frozen CEO or the Moretti heir, but a man afraid I would look at him with disgust.

Half my anger melted.

Only half.

"Then why give it to me? Did you want me to find out or not?"

His throat moved.

"I wanted you to have a choice."

"A choice to torment you?"

"A choice to want me."

The lounge went quiet enough for me to hear both of us breathing.

The lipstick was too warm in my hand.

I had standards. I had lines. But I had loved Damian Moretti for two years, second-guessed every glance, and gone home aching because he was too controlled to say one honest thing.

So no, I did not forgive him immediately.

I lifted the lipstick and swept one slow layer across my mouth.

In the mirror, my lips turned deep red, like a secret finally written where he could see it.

Damian braced one hand on the door. The veins stood out along the back of it.

"Nora."

"See?" I turned to him. "Now I have a choice."

His eyes went dark. "What do you choose?"

I rose onto my toes and kissed the hard line of his jaw.

The comments burst into flames.

[@SteamQueen: That is tension. That is the good stuff.]

[@BookTokAfterDark: Consent, chemistry, and a man one breath from ruin. Ten stars.]

[@MafiaMutt: He looks like a guard dog waiting for permission to be soft.]

That was when I learned Damian's coldness was mostly armor. When he kissed me, he trembled from holding himself back. Every time his hands moved lower, he stopped and asked. Every yes made him look at me as if I had handed him the world.

Before we crossed the line that would change everything, I pressed my palm to his chest.

"Not today."

He went still.

I looked at him, flushed and undone and still refusing to push. My mood improved at a speed that was probably unfair.

"You still owe me an explanation, a real dinner, and one very important sentence."

His voice was hoarse. "Which sentence?"

I capped the lipstick and slid it back into my pocket.

"Figure it out."

When I left the lounge, the whole top floor looked at me differently. I ignored the stares and went to the break room for water.

Of course Vanessa followed.

"What exactly is going on between you and Damian?" she hissed, all polish gone from her voice. "You don't actually think crawling into his bed gets you into the Moretti family."

I turned with my cup in hand. "Watch your mouth."

She laughed.

"Am I wrong? You're a pretty little assistant. He might play with you for a while, but girls like you do not marry men like him."

I did not waste my breath.

My feelings for Damian were my soft spot, but they were also my proof. If he only wanted a game, he would not have asked permission when he was closest to losing control.

At the end of the day, I stepped into the elevator alone.

It stopped on the forty-seventh floor, and Martin Doyle got in.

Martin ran HR. He was married, soft around the middle, and wore the kind of smile men use when they think politeness is consent. He had sent me suggestive messages before. I never answered.

Today, the elevator was empty except for us.

[@PageTurner88: Nora, no. Bad vibes in a tailored suit.]

[@KindleKiller: Rush hour and an empty elevator? The plot is doing crime.]

[@SpiceShelf: If he touches her, Damian better relocate him to another continent.]

Martin stepped closer.

"Long day, Nora?"

I moved toward the corner. "Not too bad."

"I hear Damian has been taking good care of you." His smile turned wet and ugly. "Sweetheart, a pretty face can open doors, but you need the right man to teach you how to stay upstairs. I could help with that."

Revulsion crawled up my throat.

His hand reached for me.

I lifted my knee, fully prepared to give him a memory he could carry into retirement.

Then the elevator chimed on the first floor.

The doors opened.

Damian stood outside with a black overcoat folded over his arm and two silent security men behind him.

He saw my face, and his eyes went flat and cold.