Yep, the most powerful man I’ve ever known got up early and got me a coffee, then drew a lopsided smiley face on it because I drew one on his.
I see his dress shirt hanging off a chair and slide it on. There it is again—that manly scent that I can’t get enough of. The shirt hangs to my knees and feels like he’s holding me when he’s not even in the room.
Carrying the coffee, I go downstairs to the kitchen. It’s pristine, with stone countertops and appliances that look unused. This place could be the cover of a magazine.
There’s a plate of food on the island. Eggs, toast, bacon, and a side of mixed berries. Beside it is a note on a piece of Blackwood Capital stationery. One word:Eat.
One word. One command. My stomach flutters, and I obey. Something about being told what to do by him hits me just right.
I pace while I eat, exploring the rest of the house. I start with the living room. I may have been here last night, but I sure wasn’t looking at anything but him.
Well…maybe the ceiling too.
There’s the couch—I remember that. No throw pillows or blankets of course, a massive television mounted on the wall, a bookshelf filled with financial texts and books on investing. No fiction. No photos.
Except one.
It’s on the top shelf, turned slightly toward the wall as if he doesn’t want other people to see it, but he also doesn’t want to put it away.
It’s a woman in her thirties with dark hair and Dominic’s jaw. She’s laughing and waving her hand at whoever is holding the camera. She’s gorgeous.
It’s his mother. It has to be. The resemblance is just too strong.
Good genes.
I reach out and touch the frame. It’s the only object I’ve seen that has fingerprints on it.
Something moves in my belly. This man is a massive success, but he’s been alone his entire life. Not alone the way that I’ve been alone—overlooked and passed by—but alone in the way a king is alone. Living high up in his castle with strong walls built to keep everyone else out.
But he letmein.
I readjust the photo the way it was and finish my meal.
Dominic returns at noon with shopping bags. Lots of them.
He walks through the door carrying enough designer labels to fill a mall. He sets them in the kitchen with a devilish smile and looks at me. “Get dressed. We’re going out tonight.”
I stare at the heaps of bags, trying to calculate just how much money he’s spent. “Dominic, I can’t let you spend—”
“Let me? You’re notlettingme do anything,” he says firmly, pulling a black dress from one of the bags. It oozes quality and expense. “I’mtellingyou what’s happening. You’ll wear a gorgeous dress with gorgeous heels, and I’ll take you out so every person in the place knows you belong to me.”
My mouth drops open, but my voice freezes in my throat.
He lays the dress out on the counter and opens another bag. Black lace lingerie. A bra so sheer it’s barely there and amatching thong that’s more like a piece of silk string than fabric. He holds them up.
“Put these on.” He eyes his shirt draped over me like a robe and smiles. “But take off my shirt first.”
My chest is tingling as I look back at him. Last night, Dominic claimed me. But right now, I’m starting to feel fully owned. “Yes, sir.”
My fingers are tingling as I take the lingerie from his hands. His pupils dilate as he watches me. I can feel his gaze like a physical touch as I strip out of his shirt.
It feels empowering to get this reaction from such a man.
The lingerie fits like he measured me in my sleep—which honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.
The bra lifts my breasts but hides nothing from him. The thong is barely a whisper between my legs. It’s like he wants to remind me that I’m wearing whathechose for me. The fabric touching my most sensitive area was selected byhim.
The dress fits perfectly, hugging every inch of me like a second skin. Normally, I’d be embarrassed to wear this sort of thing. But just knowing Dominic bought it for me infuses me with a confidence I’ve never known.
