~~SINVEER'S POV ~ OFFICE SCENE
The moment I heard the medical news about Marla, I could not stop laughing.
Recalling everything liach did to her earlier today.
Ah... this feisty little thing. Always so collected, so professional—until someone pushes the wrong button, and she goes wild. And Marla, of course, did just that. By playing disgusting dramas.
As she opens the door, walking in. I remained there, not turning, not yet, just facing the city.
"Close the door," I say.
She does.
The silence stretches, and I drink it in. She's standing there, perfectly still, probably thinking about how to justify breaking three ribs and giving my favorite bedwarmer a concussion in front of the security team.
I should be angry.
But I'm not.
I'm hard.
"Marek says Marla has a fractured wrist, three bruised ribs, and a concussion."
I say it flat, but in my head? How will you defend yourself now, Liach?
She answers like she's brushing lint from her blouse. "She walked in. She talked. I responded."
I turn slowly, finally facing her.
And gods— She looks fucking bored. Like violence is just her coffee break.
"What kind of response was that, Liach? Military-grade assault?"
Look at her, wrestling with her mind, trying to raise her chin high.
And then, the thought that wrecks me: What kind of PA responds to her boss's whore like that?
I believe it's the kind that makes my cock twitch just by standing there. The kind who knows exactly what she's doing.
With her eyes filled with all determination she says.
"She got in my face. I put her back in her place."
Fuck. This girl.
I wanted to laugh, wanted to reprimand her, but Instead I will. The kind of smile that creeps up when you're imagining a woman's moans against the desk she thinks she owns.
My palms keep itching, my breath is fighting in my lungs. Because now? Now I'm thinking about all the different ways I could fuck her.
Bent over the desk? Or on her knees, skirt hiked, lips red with every word she keeps spinning so perfectly well.
But I decided against it. I lower my hands, still smiling. She's turning me on, and she knows it. I chuckle—because it's either that or my head is fucked.
"You don't really give a fuck do you?"
Her response only makes it worse. Cool. Sharp. Fire wrapped in silk.
"No sir, I never did."
My cock twitches again. Harder this time. The adrenaline is a drug, and she's the hit I'm trying not to take.
But gods, I want to. I want to bury myself in her until she screams my name and forgets every fake role she's ever played.
"You may leave now, Ms. Liach.
" Yes sir." She walked to her office—slow.
This pretty little thing is going to make me break my reserve, one of these days, and she'll push me too far, that I'll stop pretending I'm in control.
~~~~~
"She's just a placeholder."
I say it with exactly the right edge, not bored, not cold. Just casual enough that she'll believe it,because I want her to hear it.
She's eavesdropping. I know it. I'd bet 100 million-dollar arms deal she's sitting right outside the door with her spine too straight and her mouth in a tin line, listening to this conversation.
Let her think I don't see her.
Marek shifts like he didn't catch the undercurrent, nodding, still rattling off logistics. I barely listen.
My mind's already on her. What will she wear? How she'll look beside me? What I want to do to her the moment those politicians stop staring.
---
The night arrives.
The moment she steps into the car and my cock twitches before I even meet her eyes.
Fuck.
Blood-red silk, slit high, neckline low. Legs that don't quit. Thighs that look like they could crush a man's skull and he'll beg for more.
She's not a placeholder. She's a weapon.
She doesn't speak, and neither do I. Because right now, I'm trying not to say every dirty thing that passes through my mind.
How would she look in chains? How long could I keep her on her knees before she starts shaking? What would her voice sound like when I finally break her?
I adjust my cuffs and pretend I'm unaffected by what I'm looking at.
---
At the Kastro estate, cameras flash.
Eyes turn.
And I give them what they want.
I offer her my arm.
Her fingers wrap around my wrist like she owns it, and I let her.
Let them look, let them whisper. Let them wonder if I'm fucking my assistant or grooming a queen.
When we're introduced, one of the underbosses smirks asking who Liach is.
"Who's this?"
I answer before she can."My assistant."
Then, I waited —meant for her. Meant to see how she holds her breath.
"And date," I continued.
I hear her exhale softly, a breath I never knew she held in.
I don't look at her. but I felt it—the shift in her spine, the calculated silence in her throat. She's pissed. Or intrigued. Or both.
Good.
Let her simmer.
~~~
Through every conversation, every slight movement, I touch her.
Not enough to claim.
Just enough to mark.
My fingers graze her back. Her waist. Every brush is a whisper of what I want to do to her.
My thumb circles slowly where her hip curves. God, the way the dress hugs that body. Her ass, high and tight. That slit revealing legs that belong around my neck.
I want to take her against one of these marble walls.
Hand over her mouth. Her thighs trembling from the inside.
I imagine bending her over the Kastro dining table—shoving that blood-red gown to her waist and fucking her until she cries my name like a prayer and a curse.
But I don't. Because tonight is about patience. And watching her burning in heat.
~~~
She leans in once, close, her voice, a silk-wrapped steel. "Touch me too long and I might start thinking you mean it."
My cock pulses.
I smile, slow and dark. "Touch me too long and I might forget I don't."
That shuts her up.
But her pupils flare.
I see it.
She likes this.
She wants the leash tightened, not loosened.
Later, when we move into a quieter wing of the estate, I fall a step behind her.
Her hips sway like a dare.
And a thought keeps echoing—
Maybe I'll tie those thighs open and suck her for hours.
Maybe I should have claimed her in the car before we even got home.
But I don't.
Because I want her to think she's winning.
That she's in control.
That I'm under her control.
But soon?
She'll beg.
And when she does?
She won't be a placeholder.
She'll be mine and my weapon.