THE FIRST YES
The leather folder sat on the edge of the hotel desk like a loaded weapon.
Ava stared at it in silence, her heart thudding louder than the city noise outside. Midnight was three minutes away.
She’d walked out of Leon Blackwell’s office pretending she still had control. That she could sleep on it, weigh the pros and cons like a rational adult.
But rationality drowned the second he touched her. The second he whispered what he’d do to her if she said yes.
And the worst part?
She wanted to hear more.
Her fingers hovered above the folder. One signature. One line. And she’d belong to the most powerful, dangerous man she’d ever met. Not just as an employee—but as something far more complicated.
Property.
Pleasure.
A plaything in a world she didn’t understand.
She flipped the folder open. The contract was simple—cruelly so. Five pages. No loopholes. No safety nets.
At the bottom, his signature was already there.
Bold. Sharp.
Predatory.
Ava inhaled, pen in hand. “This is insane,” she whispered.
But her hand didn’t shake.
Because maybe insanity was better than staying powerless.
With a single stroke, her name met his on the line between obedience and desire.
The ink had barely dried when her phone vibrated.
Unknown Number: Good girl. Be at Blackwell Tower. 6 a.m. sharp. Wear nothing underneath.
Ava’s breath caught.
This wasn’t a job.
It was a surrender.
And she had just handed herself over to the devil in a suit.
The car Leon sent rolled up at 5:40 a.m.—sleek, black, sneaky like sin itself. Felt more like a getaway car than a regular ride. Ava slid in the back, that black dress hugging her like a second skin, coat draped over her shoulders, hiding the fact that, yeah, there was nothing underneath. Just nerves and goosebumps. Bold move? Maybe. She liked bold.
The drive? Blink and it was over. Barely enough time to catch her breath, let alone calm down. Cold leather bit at her bare thighs—reminding her exactly what she wasn’t wearing. Her heart drummed way too fast. She shouldn’t be this wound up, shouldn’t be this wet before anything even started.
But here she was, all adrenaline and want.
By the time the elevator zipped her up to the penthouse, her palms were damp, pulse in overdrive. Doors slid open. The air hit her: dark wood, sharp cologne, and the kind of power you can taste on your tongue.
There was Leon, waiting like he owned the sunrise. Shirtless, slacks slung low, sunlight tracing every hard line and the ghost of tattoos. He looked like trouble, and she wanted every bit of it.
His eyes cut to her, sharp and smooth at the same time. “On time,” he said, voice all gravel and promise. “And you did what I asked.”
He stalked over—slow, deadly, impossible to look away from. Ava stood frozen, coat still cinched tight. She wouldn’t move. Not unless he said so.
Leon stopped in front of her, hand coming up to trace her jaw, then lower, down her neck, to the knot at her waist.
“Take it off.”
Her breath caught. She searched his face for any sign of mercy. Nope. Just heat, command, hunger—barely held in check.
Her fingers moved on their own, loosening the belt. The coat fell open. She was right there, naked, exposed.
Leon let out a slow breath, eyes eating her up. Her skin tightened under his gaze; her thighs pressed together, her whole body thrumming.
He paced around her, just looking, not touching, like he was mapping out every inch for later.
“You wore nothing,” he said behind her, voice soft but dangerous. “Good girl.”
A gasp slipped out before she could stop it.
He caught her hair, not rough but firm, tipping her head back so he could whisper in her ear.
“That’s your first order,” he said. “There’ll be more. Some might make you blush. Some’ll make you beg. But this—”
His hand claimed her throat, not squeezing, just resting there. Possessive. Certain.
“This is where it starts.”
Ava’s lips parted, her whole body shaking—pure anticipation.
God help her, she wanted more.
His hand stayed at her throat, fingers spread wide, possessive. Didn’t squeeze, didn’t let go.
“You’re already shaking,” he murmured. “And I haven’t even touched you where it counts.”
Her breath stuttered. Heat opened up inside her, dark and heavy.
He leaned in, lips ghosting her jaw. “Do you like following orders, Ava?”
She barely managed, “I don’t know.”
“Oh, you do,” he said. “Your body knows. Look at yourself.” His other hand drifted down, barely skimming her waist, teasing her hip. “Trembling. Wet. Obedient.”
She made a tiny, helpless sound.
“I’m going to teach you,” he whispered, moving behind her, hand guiding her forward. “Teach you to crave it. To come apart for me, just from my voice.”
He led her to the window, city still sleeping below.
“Hands on the glass.”
She hesitated, then did it, palms flat against the cold. Her nipples peaked, breath fogging the window. Utterly exposed. He took his time, just watching.
He stood behind her, close enough that his heat warmed her, but not touching. Not yet.
“When I want you on your knees,” he breathed, “you’ll fall. When I want you silent, you’ll hold your tongue. When I want you screaming—” lips brushing her shoulder “—you’ll scream my name.”
Her knees nearly buckled. She ached for him to close the gap, to touch her.
But Leon stepped back.
She almost whimpered.
“Not yet,” he said, voice cool. “Obedience earns pleasure. And you’re just starting.”
He walked away, left her trembling against the glass, desperate.
Behind her, the elevator chimed. A harsh reminder.
6:15 a.m.
Day was starting.
And Leon Blackwell? Oh he never mixed business with pleasure—until now.
Guess he was ready to break his own rules.
