I racked my brain, searching for a face to put with the name, coming to a screeching halt when I found it. “What?” I practically shouted.
My eyes bulged as I stared at him incredulously, too alarmed by his suggestion to pause and take note of the deviant glimmer and predatory smirk.
“She’shorrible,” I argued, remembering the nightmarish interview. “She actually claimedgothic-country-jazzwas the next big thing. Wanted to throw more than half our profits at it—all because her cousin’s uncle was starting a band!” My voice climbed a notch with every word, growing unhinged with disbelief.
I’d stormed closer to his desk—tohim, forgetting space was crucial if I wanted to hold my resolve.
He shrugged. “Maybe. But I have final approval—your father agreed when we signed the contracts. He allowed you to join the interviews because he was trying to appease his hurt little princess.”
A burning heat stole through me, and my hands trembled with restraint. “Why? Why would you choose her?”
He circled me like a predator corralling its prey. “Because I can,” he answered low, his words brushing against my ear from behind.
Anger coiled back and snapped inside me. I whipped around to face him. “God, you don’t even care, do you?”
“Why should I?”
“Are you kidding me?”
A hollow cavity gaped inside my chest, heavy under the weight of heartbreak. Had everything been a game to him? Had I imagined it all? Had he truly never really cared? Did he feel so little for me that he couldn’t conjure a single reason to care about my legacy?
“Why should I care, Aspen? Hmm?” His black eyes glittered down at me. His imposing frame blacked out the lights, swallowing me into his shadow as my back hit the edge of the desk. “You left and didn’t contact me at all. The last thing you said was that we were done. So, tell me…why should I care?”
The gaping hole sucked in every feeling like a black hole, pulling in the simmering rage brewing at its fringes. It bled into the pain, spreading like a drop of ink until it took everything over. Anger hardened my spine—its heat evaporating the weakness I’d walked in with. My armor slid in place, and I met his cold gaze with one of my own, casting everything else aside. “You know what?” I asked softly. “Fuck. You.” I whispered the words close enough for him to feel them against his lips.
He didn’t back up despite my nearness. Only cocked an arrogant brow, as if he was intrigued or hoping I meant it as an offer.
I barked a humorless laugh. “I. don’t. care. Go ahead…run this company into the ground. Do whatever the fuck you want—just like you always do. Because you know what?” I asked, my lips curving into a malicious smirk. “I’ll just start my own company.”
I basked in the arrogance seeping from his gaze, as if realizing and trying to reassess how I became the predator and he the prey.
I leaned in closer, speaking each word with precise, cold delivery. “I. Don’t. Need. You.”
With each word, his eyes darkened until nothing remained but angry black onyx swallowing his irises. I barely had more than a second to plan my next move before he nullified every plan with his hand gripping either side of my jaw, holding me still, squeezing to the edge of pain.
I gasped and wanted to cry out, make him believe he was hurting me—but we both knew the way his fingers dug into my cheeks, the way they controlled me, only set my desire ablaze.
“You don’t need this?” he snarled before whipping me around, pinning my hips under his, and forcing me to bend over the desk.
My hands landed on the polished wood with a smack that matched the same sound of his palm connecting with my ass. I sucked in a sharp gasp, the sound shuddering into a moan before I could stop it. Two more quick strikes on either side, setting my skin on fire before melting into a delicious warmth, spreading between my thighs.
“You don’t need the relief that onlyIcan give you?” he taunted.
I dropped my head, unable to answer, already falling into a hazy pleasure, and pushed back for more. A voice whispered that I should be ashamed, but after weeks away, my body ached for his, and the heady thrum of want beat louder than the wispy warning.
One hand fisted my skirt, tugging it higher, and I wriggled my hips to help him as the clink and rustle of his belt and pants releasing built my anticipation to a fever pitch. Without teasing, not wasting time with build-up, he pressed the head of his cock at my entrance and shoved to the hilt, hitting deep.
My cry mixed with his groan, creating a song I knew would always be my favorite, even if I never heard it again.
He thrust, again and again, relentlessly, savagely, as if he were trying to imprint himself on my soul and mark me as his—ruining me for anyone else. His hand slid around my neck, pulling my back to his chest, squeezing gently as his mouth found mine.
Our tongues collided, messy and desperate. Eager and needy.
Another cry tore my lips from his when his fingers roughly pinched my nipple, twisting and pulling until I could barely stand it—the pain and pleasure overwhelming me.
“You don’t need the loss of control, the pain, the fucking pleasure that only I can give you?” he grunted the question with each driving slam inside me.
“Lucian,” I pleaded.
