The music floated softly through the grand ballroom, elegant and smooth — like silk slipping through fingers. Laughter mingled with the clink of glasses, and couples twirled under golden chandeliers.

And there you were — in a sleek black dress that hugged your waist like a whispered promise — dancing gracefully, your movements fluid and effortless.

His hand rested lightly on your waist — Lorenzo, the rival of your boss. There was no intimacy in his touch, only the politeness of a gentleman playing by the rules of high society.

But across the room, eyes burned into you like twin fires.

Damien Ashford.

Your boss. A man known not only for his ruthless intellect but also for his ice-cold demeanor. He was power in human form — silent, commanding, and untouchable.

He moved through the crowd with lethal precision, his jaw clenched, his eyes locked on you.

Before you could react, he seized your wrist and dragged you away from the dance floor — uncaring of the shocked glances that followed.

“Have you lost your mind?” you gasped, struggling in his grip. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer.

He slammed the door of the empty corridor behind you, and the music vanished — replaced by the thunder of silence.

He turned slowly, like a storm about to break loose.

“You let him touch you?” he asked lowly, voice trembling not with weakness — but with rage.

He stepped forward, and suddenly he was inches from you. The warmth of his breath brushed your cheek. His hand found your waist — the exact spot Lorenzo had touched — and tightened.

“Does it bother you when I touch you here?” he growled. “Or is that privilege reserved only for my enemy?”

You whispered, “Let me go, you have no right—”

But your words were swallowed.

By a kiss.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t kind. It was fire and fury and possession. It was the kind of kiss that left no doubt — no air — no space to think.

When he finally pulled back, his chest was rising and falling with barely restrained control.

“Don’t play games with me,” he whispered, his voice dark and unshakable. “I don’t compete. I claim.”