MasukBEVERLY The heavy wooden door of the main floor restroom swung shut behind me, cutting off the loud, chaotic echo of the students spilling out of the lecture halls. I didn't stop to breathe. My bare feet moved as fast as my heels would allow across the damp, polished tiles. I bypassed the row of porcelain sinks and headed straight for the very last stall in the back corner of the room. I stepped inside, slammed the stall door shut, and threw the metal deadbolt into place with a sharp, echoing clink. My heart was hammering so violently against my ribs I thought my chest might physically rupture. My hands were shaking, slick with cold sweat as I raised my phone, navigated to Damian's contact, and hit the video call button. It rang once. Twice. The screen flickered to life. Damian’s broad, imposing face filled the display. He was sitting in his high-backed leather chair in his glass executive suite downtown, completely immaculate in his three-piece navy suit. His dark eyes locked o
BEVERLY The leather seat of my sedan had been an instrument of absolute torture for the entire twenty-minute drive to campus. Without underwear, every single bump in the road brought the cool, smooth leather of the driver's seat into direct contact with my bare skin. My backside was still throbbing with a deep, persistent heat from the heavy leather paddle, and the friction against my raw welts made me suck in a sharp breath at every traffic light. My hands had gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. By the time I pulled into the university parking structure, my heart was hammering a wild, frantic rhythm against my ribs. I grabbed my designer tote bag, stepped out of the car, and immediately tugged down on the hem of my sleeveless beige turtleneck dress. The soft knit fabric felt scandalously short, ending barely an inch below the swell of my hips. Every time a cool morning breeze swept across the pavement, it brushed against my bare thighs, sending a viole
DAMIAN I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of my study, staring out into the pitch-black grounds of the estate long after the soft rustle of Beverly’s bare feet had faded down the secret passage. The silence of the room closed in on me, heavy and accusing. I picked up the crystal tumbler of neat scotch resting on my desk and took a long, slow swallow, letting the amber liquid burn a path down my throat. My dark reflection looked back at me from the glass pane—a man accustomed to absolute control, a man who commanded global shipping routes and managed billions in assets without blinking. And yet, for the past week, a nineteen-year-old girl had managed to dismantle my composure with terrifying ease. I was not supposed to be doing this. The sheer impropriety of it made my jaw clench. Beverly was my ward. I was responsible for her trust fund, her safety, her future. She was meant to be an obligation, a minor detail in the periphery of my life until she graduated university
BEVERLY The morning arrived with a blinding sheet of sunlight pouring through my veranda doors. The moment my eyes cracked open, my hand shot instinctively to my throat. My fingertips brushed against the smooth, firm band of leather, tracing the cool, solid weight of the silver letter D resting in the hollow of my collarbone. A shiver of pure, remembered heat rushed through me. It hadn't been a dream. The contract, the ropes, the maddening touch of the feathers, and the heavy click of the buckle behind my neck—it was all completely real. I showered carefully, making sure not to get the premium leather wet, and dressed for the day. Per the protocol, I had to maintain the perfect illusion of the innocent ward. I chose a high-necked, cream-colored knit sweater that completely hid the choker from view, pairing it with dark denim. To the rest of the world, I was just Beverly. But beneath the fabric, the heavy silver initial pressed into my skin with every movement, a secret, humming c
BEVERLY The sudden absence of the teasing feathers left my skin humming with a lingering, hyper-sensitive warmth. I stood perfectly frozen in the center of the room, my chest still rising and falling in shallow, ragged gasps as I waited for Damian’s next command. The soft purple silk rope remained securely knotted behind my waist, a heavy, binding reminder that my autonomy still belonged entirely to the man standing before me. Damian did not make me wait long. He stepped behind me, his massive, solid frame blotting out the warm light of the fireplace as his shadow enveloped mine. The cool air of the study brushed against my lower back as his large, calloused fingers found the central knot of the silk restraint. With a few smooth, practiced movements, he loosened the tension. The heavy purple ropes uncoiled from my skin, sliding down the silk of my dark slip and pooling onto the plush rug around my bare feet. The relief was instantaneous, but my arms felt heavy and strangely numb a
BEVERLY The soft, dark purple silk felt incredibly smooth against my skin, but the tightness of the wraps was absolute. Damian worked in silence, his large, warm hands moving with a practiced, mathematical precision as he looped the rope around my wrists, anchoring them securely together at the small of my back. He didn't rush. He pulled each knot firm, ensuring the restraint was snug enough to prevent any movement, yet careful enough not to pinch my skin or restrict my circulation. When he finally pulled the working end of the rope through the central knot, fastening it with a heavy, definitive tug, the reality of my situation settled deep into my bones. I was bound. I had no hands. If I lost my balance, I couldn't catch myself. If a stray strand of hair fell into my eyes, I couldn't brush it away. I was completely, utterly at his mercy. Damian stepped back. The silence in the study returned, thick and vibrating with a sudden, heavy tension. I stood in the center of the plush ru
BEVERLY I recognised his voice from the numerous calls and late night chatting over the phone. I finally saw him, my crush,the man who has been taking care of me in place of my father. The kiss flashed through my mind again. That was the first time I ever got turned on from a kiss. God.
BEVERLY Having a crush on an older, more capable man had completely ruined dating for me. No guy my age ever measured up. Not when I knew what it felt like to be cared for by someone who remembered every little thing about me. Someone who listened when I spoke. Someone whose voice alone cou
BEVERLY I still remember the smell of the hospital that night. Antiseptic. Cold air. Death. It clung to my skin long after they covered my father’s body with a white sheet. I was sixteen years old, sitting alone in a plastic chair with trembling hands and swollen eyes while nurses walked past m
BEVERLY The remaining bite of my pancake suddenly tasted a lot like victory. I chewed slowly, my eyes locked on Damian as he finished the last of his coffee. The man drank it black, obviously. No sugar, no cream, just pure, bitter energy to fuel whatever dark empire he ran when he wasn’t busy lur







