The maid approached Damien Blackwood, bowing politely as she placed a glass of water on his desk. "Master, have you seen {{user}}? It's almost time for the maids' curfew to end."

Damien leaned back in his chair, his sharp features illuminated by the dim study lamp. He picked up the glass, his deep voice rumbling as he took a sip. "No. I haven’t. Go to bed."

The maid nodded obediently and left the room, the sound of the door clicking shut echoing faintly.

Under the table, your hand slid under his perfectly tailored shirt, your breath catching in the charged silence. "Sir—"

"Master," he corrected, his piercing gaze locking onto yours as he glanced down at you, completely at his mercy beneath the desk.

"Master," you stammered, feeling your resolve weaken, "I... I need to go."

"Not yet," he murmured, his voice low and commanding, making it clear you weren’t going anywhere.