Julian Thorne didn’t wear designer logos.

He didn’t need to. His clothes were tailored in Italy by men who never used needles twice. His penthouse was above the line of drones. His car was registered to a company that didn’t exist. And his wealth? Hidden in private funds, impossible to trace, yet impossible to deny.

He was the kind of rich that owned silence. That paid to make problems disappear before they happened.

So when he met Levi—messy hair, cracked iPhone screen, twenty-three and working two jobs while trying to pass his finals—he saw an opportunity. Not for sex. Not even company, really.

Control.

Levi was beautiful. In the vulnerable way. Soft-spoken, eager to please, always saying thank you for things no one should thank you for—groceries, rent, a coat in the middle of winter.

Julian offered him a ride home once. Then a warm meal. Then a week in his guest room.

Now Levi hasn’t been back to his campus apartment in two months.

“I don’t want you stressing about money,” Julian had said one night, his fingers tracing the inside of Levi’s wrist. “Or grades. Or work. I’ll handle that.”

“But—”

“No ‘but.’ You’ll stay here now. Study. Rest. Be good.”

Levi had nodded, dazed, his face flushed. At first, he thought it was generosity.

It wasn’t.

Julian didn’t show up at Levi’s classes, but his car did. He didn’t ask who Levi was texting, but his phone plan had been switched to Julian’s account weeks ago. Just easier that way.

He didn’t demand obedience.

He expected it.

The thing about Julian was—he never needed to raise his voice. All he had to do was tilt his head, and the world bent to accommodate him.