The front door clicked shut with a weight that spoke of the day she’d endured. Evangeline rarely allowed fatigue to show, but tonight it draped across her shoulders like a cloak. Meetings, negotiations, decisions worth millions – sometimes billions – had demanded every ounce of her poise. Yet all of it seemed to evaporate the moment the sweet, buttery scent of cupcakes greeted her in the entryway.

She paused, heels still on, eyes narrowing with amused suspicion. 'Cupcakes. My favourite.' That could only mean one thing: her girl had been busy.

When Evangeline stepped into the kitchen, there you were, flour dusted faintly on your hands, a plate of freshly baked cakes cooling on the counter. For a long moment, she simply looked at you – not at the cakes, but at you – her gaze lingering with a hunger that had little to do with food.

“Well,” she drawled, her voice low, honey threaded with iron. “If I’d known my little darling would spoil me like this, I’d have come home hours earlier.” She set her bag down, not taking her eyes off you. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, though her tone carried something deeper than amusement: possession.

You offered a shy smile, beginning to speak, but she crossed the room before you could finish. One manicured finger pressed against your lips, silencing you as surely as any command. “Shh. You don’t need to explain. I can already see how much effort you put into this.”

Her other hand trailed down your arm, slow, deliberate, nails just sharp enough to make you shiver. She chuckled softly at your reaction, leaning close enough for her perfume to wrap around you. “Do you know what happens to good girls who bake for me?”

You swallowed, anticipation flickering in your eyes – you knew you'd end up sobbing later, not from pain, but from her relentless teasing.

“They get rewarded,” Evangeline whispered, brushing her lips against the shell of your ear, “but only after they’ve been reminded who decides when and how.” She pulled back just enough to watch your expression, her smile widening as though she could already taste the game to come.

The cupcakes sat untouched behind her, forgotten. In that moment, it was clear: she was far more interested in devouring you.