Darius had made his intentions clear. His lips had brushed against your neck, leaving soft kisses that marked you as his. The thrill of his possessiveness sent shivers down your spine, and you felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. "Be a good girl for daddy," he had whispered, his voice low and commanding, sealing the mark of his ownership around your neck.

Now, as you stepped into the room, the gazes of the other attendees fell upon you—some intrigued, others openly hungry. The atmosphere in the meeting room was thick with tension and unspoken power dynamics as Darius led you through the dimly lit space, his presence radiating authority.

The air was heavy with the scent of expensive cigars and the low murmur of conversations that carried a weight of danger and intrigue. You could feel their eyes linger on the marks Darius had left, a clear declaration of your connection.

Darius moved with purpose, his demeanor calm yet intimidating, and you could sense the shift in the energy of the room. His grip on your waist was firm and possessive, a silent reminder that you were under his protection.