DAMON

Do not mistake my attraction for affection. Her warning replays in my head, my heart beating louder, stronger, and more furious as I stare at her, unable to differentiate between the two emotions. No strings attached. That's essentially what she wants. I can't give her that. I knew from the moment I saw her that the strings would inevitably weave into a tangled mess. She lit a fire inside me, a fire that burns every wick in my soul. I want to touch her soft skin and explore the topography of her spellbinding body. I want to hold her, I want to comfort her, I want her head to make my chest her home, and I want her to lay with me as we fight the darkness of night... together.

I can only hope her affection for me grows in time. That one day, when she looks at me, she'll see a man who'd protect her, care for her, do anything in his power to keep her safe. But hope has never been an ally. I've been betrayed by hope and prayers for years now. I can't count on the stars and the sun to one day align and bring me endless light. If I want her to see me for who I am, I'll have to show her. Without games, without tricks, without my intentions cloaked in the failures of my past. I admit my strategy has worked against me. Though she doesn't deny our physical connection, it's the emotional bridge we need to build. I need to build. I hope this one doesn't get burned.

"Do you have questions?" Yannis asks Emery, concluding his presentation on the operations of Cavanaugh Industries. Emery shakes her head, making notes on her printout. "Good. As I mentioned earlier, we're currently knee-deep in preparing for this audit. While most of our documents have been digitized, some paper files are still floating around. Due to the sensitive nature of some of our dealings, Miranda here has marked these files—" He hands her a folder. "As confidential. All you'll need to do is consolidate our output and input. Should be fairly simple."

"I've also taken the liberty of uploading those files onto your hard drive," Miranda adds. "And if you find that there's anything missing, feel free to give me a call and I'll try my best to locate the files."

"I appreciate that," Emery says, straightening her shoulders as she addresses the executive team. "I'll need until the end of the week to familiarize myself with all protocols and procedures, but I'll ensure my team gets started on document prep right away."

"There is no room for error," Javier grunts. "We must—"

Emery tilts her head. "I am fully aware of the importance of this audit, Mr. Cortes." She gives him a tight-lipped smile. "As long as we work together as a team, I'm sure we'll pass with flying colors."

"I have full faith in Miss Jones and her department," I state, clearing my throat. Emery glances over at me, her expression professional and flat. I try not to read into it. We're among colleagues. I reel back a frown. "If we're done for today, then I'd like to show Miss Jones her office."

"Oh, I can do that," Miranda chirps. Emery purses her lips as her gaze flits across Miranda's familiar features. She's been trying to place her all morning. "I believe you've got a conference call in—"

"Push it," I say casually, noticing Javier glaring at me. I inwardly roll my eyes. And people say I'm uptight. "Anything else?"

"Yes—" Javier fumbles inside his suit jacket and pulls out an ornate envelope. "A courier dropped this off earlier this morning." He places it on the table and slides it toward me. "It's an invitation to the Black and White Ball."

My teeth nearly crush against themselves as I open the flap and pull out a personalized invitation to New York City's most sought-after social event of the season.

"No way!" Miranda squeals, beaming. "For all of us?"

"No..." Javier scrunches his nose, his scrutinizing gaze sweeping from me to Emery. "It's addressed to Mr. Cavanaugh and Miss Jones."

Miranda pouts, disappointed. "Oh..."

"Oh, indeed," Javier hums, scratching his stubble. "I assume you'll attend?"

"N—"

"What is the Black and White Ball?" Emery asks, brows pinched together in confusion.

"It's the Marquis Annual Fundraiser for the Children's Hospital," Miranda replies. "It's held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art." She sighs, eyes dreamy. "I hear the gift baskets are epic."

"Marquis?" Emery asks slowly, briefly meeting my stone-cold eyes. Bastard. He hasn't invited me personally since the day I took back what was rightfully mine. "As in Quinton Marquis?"

"Mhmm," Miranda hums. "The Marquis Foundation." She frowns. "Have you met Quinton before?"

Emery blinks. "We're... acquainted."

"Miranda, please draft an RSVP for Mr. Cavanaugh and Miss Jones," Javier says, speaking directly to me as he hisses, "Our CEO wouldn't dare miss such a high-profile event, would he?"

He's right. I hate that he's right. Media will be swarming the steps of The Met. It's the perfect opportunity to show the world that I'm back, and that this company is alive and well and flourishing. I've never been one to do something half-assed. If Quinton wants me there, I'll be there. With all the fucking bells and whistles.

"Send the RSVP today," I tell Miranda. "You're all dismissed." As Miranda and Yannis scatter out of the boardroom, Javier rounds the table, putting a hand on my shoulder. "What?"

"We cannot make an enemy out of the Marquis' again," Javier whispers, tone strained. "Your father cleaned up your messes for years, but he's not here to save your ass again." He briefly glances at Emery who's rereading our policy manual. "Don't let your cock be the reason this company fails, Damon. Remember what happened the last time you picked desire over duty."

"Leave."

"Only a fool allows history to repeat itself," Javier mutters, offering Emery a flat smile before exiting the office. "Enjoy your first day, Miss Jones."

"You look tense," Emery notes, picking up her tablet and notebook. "Is it the ball? If it'll make it easier for you, I can ask Miranda to take my place. She seemed rather eager to go."

It would make it easier. If she didn't go, I wouldn't have to worry about Quinton cornering Emery the first chance he got. But if I don't bring her, it'll make me look insecure. I'd rather walk in with her on my arm, and show him that I'm not a weak and fearful man. Easy is not an option.

"If I have to attend a Marquis event, so do you," I say, gesturing out of the boardroom. "Let me show you your office."

"I think you give him too much power over you," Emery muses brazenly. "Even his name causes you to tense up. I get that you have a... complicated past, but if you react every time he eggs you on, you're giving him exactly what he wants." I stiffen, pushing down the unease building in my chest. Emery offers me a soft smile, brushing her hand against mine as we enter her office. Accident or not, I find my shoulders relaxing. "It's just an observation. Take it with a grain of salt."

"I find..." I swallow, my tie feeling like a snake around my throat as I cross my arms. "I find it rather difficult to keep my emotions in check around him." Bridge. Build a fucking bridge. "Especially when I'm with you."

"I know," Emery says, setting her onboarding documents on her desk. She props up against the edge, crossing her legs, my roaming gaze following the mid-length split of her iridescent navy pencil skirt. "You think he's going to steal me from you, right? Like some sort of payback?"

I remain tightlipped. Fuck, how transparent can I be?

She sighs. "Do you realize how offensive your fear is?" She pushes herself off the desk, hips swaying side to side like a hypnotizing pendulum. My lips part slightly, arms dropping to the side in surrender as she stops in front of me, her jade eyes sweeping across my face. "I am not some keepsake or heirloom. I am not a piece of intellectual property or a confidential file—" She lifts her hand, feathering her fingers along my jawline. My breaths turn heavy as she whispers, "If Quin somehow steals me, Mr. Cavanaugh, it will be because I want to be stolen."

"And do you?" I ask, voice hoarse and rough as I lean into her palm, barely able to keep my eyes open as she caresses my cheek. "Do you want to be stolen?"

"No." My eyes flutter open when I no longer feel her skin against mine. Emery turns around, collecting a document off her desk. Pinching the contract with two fingers, she tilts her head, giving me a daring smile. "Before you get too excited, I didn't sign all of it."

I frown. "What do you mean?"

She nods at the loveseat tucked in the corner of her office. We both sit down. "Now—" She lays the five-page contract on the coffee table, flipping to the first page. "This is the NDA. I've signed that." She flips another page, and my eyes light up. Limits. "I've taken the liberty of color coding my preferences." She looks up at me, cheeks rosy. "Truthfully, the latter half of these...activities...I've never even heard of." She cocks her head. "You're a bit messed up, aren't you?"

I smirk. "This is a thorough list, Miss Jones. It's meant to cover all the bases. It doesn't mean—" I glance down at her DIY coding chart, "that they're all green to me either." I lift a brow, catching DP marked in green. "Starting off strong, Miss Jones. Although I can't promise I'll be willing to share you with another man."

"Guess we'll find sooner or later..." She squirms against the ivory leather couch, clearing her throat before she continues to flip the pages. "I've left your sections empty. You can fill them out when you've got some free time." I nod. She flips to the last page, the exclusivity clause, which isn't signed. "Now—"

"You didn't sign," I mumble, brows furrowed. "Why?"

"Because I'd like to amend it," she says, chin held high. "This section stipulates that your dominance extends past the club, that punishment and reward are not confined to the playrooms, and I—" She licks her lips. "I'm not ready to give up that much control over my life. But—" She turns the page over, and I smile at a revised version which is signed at the bottom. "Within the club... I agree to your terms."

"I guess we'll have to move into the club," I say, flashing her a sly grin. "Or maybe I'll just buy the entire building."

She rolls her eyes. Something that, if she had signed the original contract, would be just cause for a spanking. "I wouldn't hold it past you."

"Good," I say, reaching for a pen in my breast pocket. "I must say, Miss Jones, this might be the first contract I've ever signed that's been amended to benefit the other party." With a satisfied sigh, I sign every page of the contract, dropping the pen when I'm finished. "Well then... I suppose I'll need to buy you a ring."

Emery blinks. "A ring?"

I smirk. "Or would you prefer a collar?"

Her eyes widen. "A collar?"

"Yes, Miss Jones," I rasp. "You'll need to wear something to show everyone that you're mine." I cock my head, licking my lips as I grab the base of her throat. "A collar would suit you well, I think." Dragging my hand down her neck, I pick her right hand, bringing it to my lips. "Or you can wear a ring." I kiss her knuckles, peering up at her. "Which will it be?"

"A ring," she breathes, her hand trembling from the anticipation. "I'd prefer a ring."

"As you wish, mami."

I prefer rings as well. They're never-ending.