He chuckles, low and triumphant, stepping closer to her, too goddamn close, his body heat invading her space, his breath ghosting her cheek as his eyes plunge into her cleavage again, devouring her like he’s already picturing her on his stage, luring my VIPs away with those hips and that smile, maybe even spreading her legs for him in some back room. “By hiring women like you, Ms. Song. With your fire, you’d own Eclipse in a single night. Hell, you’d redefine it. We should talk privately, away from prying ears. I have positions that could be tailored just for you... intimate opportunities to shine.”
The air thickens to suffocating, my pulse a war drum in my ears, veins burning with possessive fury. She’s pushing me, testing the leash I’ve wrapped around her throat, and it’s working. Visions assault me as I imagine slamming Carl against the rail, my blade carving that lecherous grin from his face until he bleeds out into the lake; or better, hauling Lea below deck right fucking now, ripping that cream dress to shreds, pinning her against the cabin wall and pounding into her raw, merciless, her slick pussy clenching around my cock as I fuck the defiance out of her, filling her with my cum until it drips down her thighs, marking her inside and out while she screams my name. She’s mine to command, mine to ruin—not this prick’s fantasy.
Before I can act, Eleanor Davenport swoops in like a perfumed vulture, latching onto Lea’s arm. “Darling Lea, you must meet the Symphony board—they’ll adore you!”
I watch her melt into the cluster of socialites, her laughter ringing out, genuine interest sparking as she engages. She listens, asks questions that draw admiring nods, her hand gesturing elegantly. Is this A-plus performance intended for me? Or is she reveling in it, slipping from my grasp, maybe even entertaining Carl’s “offers” to twist the knife?
“Nico, sweetheart!” Eleanor gushes back to me, claws on my sleeve. “She’s divine! The devotion in her eyes when she looks at you... reminds me of my third husband, before the divorce turned nasty. You better watch her carefully. I’m seeing plenty of admirers.”
The words grate like glass under my skin. Devotion? Or deception? The jealousy roils, twisting into possessive fury.
“She knows her place,” I mutter, my gaze never leaving Lea.
Eleanor flits off to Judge Harrington, oblivious. Across the deck, Lea’s deep in conversation with the hospital’s chief surgeon, her expression alive, leaning in as he speaks—too close, his eyes devouring her like he’d devour her pussy if given half a chance. She’s thriving here in this den of vipers without me pulling the strings.
This won’t stand.
The last guestdeparts as the sun dips toward the horizon, igniting the sky in fiery oranges and bruised purples. The staff swarms efficiently, clearing crystal flutes and discarded canapes under Blake’s watchful eye. I dismiss him from the yacht, telling him to make sure all guests have left the property.
I stride to the helm’s intercom, my jaw tight. The need for privacy is a burning imperative. I press the button. “Captain, prepare to cast off. Take us to the center of the lake.”
The captain’s voice crackles back, laced with professional concern. “Sir, the forecast is turning. Radar shows a significantstorm cell moving in quickly. The harbormaster is advising all vessels to remain docked for the night.”
The warning is a distant noise against the roar of jealousy in my head. A storm? Good. Let it come. It will match the one I’m about to unleash.
“You have your orders, Captain,” I say, my voice leaving no room for debate. “Take us out. Now.”
A beat of silence, then a resigned, “Yes, sir.”
A low thrum vibrates through the deck as the engines engage. With the yacht now moving, I go to find Lea. She’s on the upper deck, alone, staring out at the churning lake, her bare feet planted on the polished teak, heels discarded like shed armor. The evening breeze messes with her hair, making her look ethereal, untouchable. For a moment, I watch her. This enigma who’s twisted from asset to obsession, from pawn to the blade now slicing into my chest. The jealousy festers, a venomous coil in my gut, fueled by her smiles for Richter, her touches that should have been mine alone.
“The event was a success,” I say, stepping beside her at the rail, my voice a low rumble.
She turns, her composure a fragile mask. “Eleanor was thrilled. You’ve bought yourself a reprieve.”
“You performed flawlessly,” I concede, the words like ash in my mouth. “Too flawlessly.”
She arches a brow, the spark of challenge igniting something feral in me. “Is conviction a crime now?”
“When it blurs into betrayal? Yes.” I close the distance, crowding her against the rail, the heat of her body stirring my cock despite the rage. “You reveled in it. Flirting with Richter like a siren.”
“I was obeying,” she retorts, her voice steady but shoulders tensing.
“What I demand,” I growl, low and lethal, “is truth between us. No more fucking games.”
Surprise flickers across her face. “Truth? From the puppeteer who rigged my life? Are you for real right now?”
Her accusations hit like bullets, but I shove them down. “The world gets my lies. You get honesty or nothing.”
She laughs, the sound bitter and hollow. “Truth is poison in our world, Nico. We both choke on it.”
I seize her arm, my grip ironclad, and drag her below deck, through the salon, and into the master stateroom. I slam the door, the latch clicking shut.
“That display today,” I snarl, yanking off my tie with vicious tugs, “let’s test if your ‘devotion’ holds in the shadows.” My voice drips ice, but heat surges through my veins, cock hardening at the thought of what I’m about to do to her.
She stands defiant in the room’s center, eyes wary. “What do you crave now, Nico? More proof of your throne?”
“The real you. No masks.” I drape the tie over a chair, eyes raking her. “Strip. Bare everything.”
