WRITER'S POV:
The belt lay across the sofa.
Ivy stood frozen, heart hammering in her chest like it was trying to claw its way out.
Cassius hadn't touched her—yet.
But his presence filled the room, pressing in on all sides.
He stepped closer, every movement deliberate. Like he wanted her to feel each inch of space vanish between them.
"You disobeyed me. You put yourself at risk. And then you lied to my face," he said quietly.
She swallowed, voice gone. Her skin prickled with tension, heat building just under the surface.
"You don't get to play in this world without consequence, Ivy." His fingers brushed her arm. Not rough. Not aggressive. Just enough to make her shiver.
"And what are you going to do?" she whispered.
He leaned down until his mouth was just beside her ear. "I'm going to show you how it feels to belong to me."
Her knees nearly buckled. Cassius pulled her gently by the wrist and turned her around, guiding her to the arm of the couch. She didn't resist—couldn't. Her breath caught as he bent her slightly forward, his palm resting on the small of her back.
"You're not leaving this room until I'm sure you understand one thing," he murmured.
"W-what?"He leaned closer.
"That when you walk into my world... you surrender the illusion of control." The first touch of leather against her skin was slow—teasing. He wasn't punishing her out of anger. He was punishing her because she needed to remember who she was to him. And because she needed to feel it. Each measured strike was followed by the heat of his palm, grounding her, keeping her tethered to the moment, to him. Ivy didn't cry. She trembled. She burned. Her mind went white-hot and blank all at once.
"Say it," Cassius demanded, voice low and firm.
She gasped. "Say what?"
"That you're mine."
The words caught in her throat, shame and heat warring inside her. He waited. Patient. Like he knew she'd say it.
When she finally did, it came out as a whisper. "I'm yours."
Cassius dropped the belt. His hands cupped her hips, pulling her upright, turning her to face him. His eyes were molten. "Now you understand."
And then, he kissed her. Not soft. Not sweet.
Possession dressed up as desire. A collision of fire and control and everything they'd tried to deny. Ivy clung to him, drunk on the feel of him, the claim in his touch, in his breath, in the low sound he made when she kissed him back. Whatever came next—whoever they became after this—would be decided later.
Tonight, there was no jet. No mafia. No danger.Just this.
And it was inevitable.
---
After, Ivy sat curled up in the corner of the bed, wrapped in one of the hotel's oversized robes, her knees hugged to her chest.
Cassius had stepped away to make a brief phone call—something curt, coded, and in a language she didn't know.
She wasn't scared. That surprised her. She was shaken, yes. Breathless. Her skin still tingled from where he'd touched her, marked her, claimed her. But it wasn't fear humming through her blood. It was clarity. Somewhere between his belt and his mouth, she had crossed a line too. One she couldn't uncross. She couldn't go back to the girl who thought Cassius was just a dangerous mystery. He wasn't a mystery. He was the answer to a question she hadn't dared ask.
And that answer came with fire.