Raven's Point of View
I woke up with a deep, satisfied ache in my body. The kind that whispered sweet reminders of exactly what had happened last night. Every muscle, every inch of my skin felt like it had been marked, possessed, ruined.
And I still couldn't stop thinking about it.
Five rounds.
Five goddamn rounds, and he never went soft.
I groaned, rolling over in bed and burying my face into my pillow. But that only made things worse because now I was remembering-the way he held me down, the way his hands felt wrapped around my throat, the way he growled when he saw my thong...
I whimpered.
This was bad. So bad.
Because today... I had to see him.
At work.
Where he was my boss.
I groaned louder, kicking the blanket off my body. What the hell was I supposed to do? Walk into that office and pretend he hadn't fucked me so good I could still feel the ghost of him inside me? Pretend he hadn't ruined me for any other man? Pretend I wasn't obsessing over him already?
My phone buzzed on our worn out dresser.
My heart leapt into my throat.
I reached for it so fast I nearly knocked it off, my breath catching when I saw his name.
Mr. Derveaux: Did you sleep well?
I swallowed hard, my fingers twitching over the keyboard.
Should I even respond? Should I play it cool? Should I pretend I wasn't sitting here with my thighs pressed together like some needy idiot who couldn't stop replaying last night in her head?
Before I could decide, another text came through.
Mr. Derveaux: Or were you up all night thinking about my cock?
I gasped, heat flooding between my legs.
Oh.
My.
God.
"Oh my-" I whispered.
I threw my phone across the bed like it had personally offended me.
This man was dangerous.
A knock sounded at our door. The door was unlocked, they were doing the most.
"Bitch, are you awake?" Lila's voice came from the other side. "You better be, because it's six o'clock and we have jobs to get to."
I groaned, rolling onto my back.
Jamie suddenly banged on the door.
"HOE, IF YOU'RE DEAD FROM DEHYDRATION AFTER LAST NIGHT, I SWEAR TO GOD-"
"I'M ALIVE," I yelled, sitting up. "Jesus Christ."
The door swung open, and Lila and Jamie both walked in, fully dressed and wide awake.
Jamie squinted at me.
"Why do you look like you just had a wet dream?"
Lila gasped.
"BITCH, YOU DID."
"I DIDN'T," I lied.
Jamie snatched my pillow.
"Tell me right now-did you dream about his demon dick?"
Lila cackled.
I groaned, throwing myself back onto the bed.
"You guys are so annoying."
Jamie gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest.
"Oh my god, you did."
Lila sat on the bed next to me, grinning.
"How does it feel to be addicted to your boss's cock?"
I slapped a pillow over my face.
Jamie sat on the other side, leaning in.
"No, seriously, how does it feel? Like, physically? Are you still sore?"
I groaned.
"You guys are sick."
My phone buzzed again.
Lila snatched it before I could react.
Jamie screamed and tackled her.
They both stared at the screen.
Then-
Lila choked on her coffee.
Jamie threw my phone across the bed like it was possessed.
I grabbed it, eyes wide as I read the message.
Mr. Derveaux: Don't forget to bring an extra pair of panties to work today.
I gasped, my entire body catching fire.
Lila wheezed.
"BITCH."
Jamie fell onto the floor, fanning himself.
"I CAN'T DO THIS."
I clutched my burning face, staring at the screen in horror.
Lila's grin was practically sinister. "Oh my God... you're so fucked."
Jamie clutched his chest like she'd hit him with a heart attack. "Wait. Wait. Wait. BITCH-" He grabbed my arms, shaking me for emphasis. "Does this mean you're gonna fuck him at work?"
I swallowed.
Hard.
I didn't know.
But the thought alone was dangerous.
And the way my body reacted at just the idea?
Even more dangerous.
I bit my lip, fingers curling around my phone like it was a lifeline.
Lila shrieked like a banshee. "SHE'S THINKING ABOUT IT!"
Jamie dropped to the floor, clutching his chest again. "OH MY GOD. I'M DYING."
I groaned, shoving my pillow over my face.
This was not going to end well.
★ ⋆｡°✩ ★
I was still wearing the jacket.
His jacket.
I tried not to think about that part as I checked my reflection one last time. Under it, I'd put on a purple dress I'd thrifted a while back-silky, soft, the kind that hugged me just right without trying too hard. It was professional enough for work, but it still made me feel... steady. Like I hadn't completely lost my footing.
The chunky boots grounded the look. Practical. Worn. Necessary, with the snow still melting everywhere. I told myself that was the reason I kept the jacket on too. The cold. Nothing else.
Outside, winter was hanging on out of spite. Slushy piles lined the sidewalks, half-cleared porches dripping with melting ice. Icicles clung to railings and shattered against the pavement when someone knocked them loose. Tenants were out front of the building, shoveling their own steps, salt scattered unevenly like it might help.
Jamie stopped at the bottom of the steps and stared at the mess. "If this landlord doesn't hire someone to clear the snow in front of this building, I'm suing."
I snorted. "With what money? You think they can afford a whole snow crew?"
Jamie shot me a look. "I had to clean my own car yesterday."
I raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that... your job?"
He clutched his chest like I'd wounded him. "Wow. So you're just gonna attack me before seven a.m.?"
Lila laughed behind us. "Justice for Jamie's car."
We walked carefully toward the curb, boots crunching against ice. Jamie unlocked the car, and I slid into the passenger seat, smoothing my dress as I sat. Lila climbed into the back like she always did, already settling in.
I leaned back, fingers curling around my phone without even realizing it.
★ ⋆｡°✩ ★
Jamie pulled up to the Red Lantern Cab Stand and eased the car to a stop. Snow was piled high along the curb, half-melted and dirty, steam rising faintly from the street grates.
He killed the engine and turned to look at me. "Text me when you get inside," he said, trying to sound casual and failing.
"I will," I promised.
He leaned over and hugged me tight anyway, like he didn't quite trust his own words. I hugged him back, the jacket bunching between us.
I stepped out, the cold biting instantly.
Then Lila climbed out from the backseat and slid into the front, immediately wrapping her arms around me too.
"Be careful," she whispered into my hair.
"I am," I said again. I meant it.
Jamie shoved a few folded bills into my hand. "For the cab," he said. "And food. And... whatever."
I smiled softly. "Thank you."
And waved them off before turning toward the street. A cab slowed as I lifted my arm, yellow lights flashing through the falling slush.
The door opened, and I climbed in, tugging the jacket tighter around me.
"Derveaux Corps," I said.
The cab pulled away, the city blurring past the windows. By the time we reached the building, I was already aching from the cold.
I paid the driver, stepped out, and hurried inside.
The moment the doors shut behind me, warmth wrapped around my skin.
God. Hot. Blessedly hot.
I exhaled, shoulders relaxing for the first time all morning.
Finally.
"Good morning, Sarah," I said, forcing a polite smile.
Sarah just stared at me.
No greeting. No force.
Not even a fake smile. Just a slow blink and a flat, unimpressed look, like she was mentally listing all the reasons I didn't belong here.
I held her gaze for half a second, then rolled my eyes and walked past her, heading straight for the elevators.
She acted like she owned the place.
And maybe she thought she did.
But she didn't.
I stepped into the elevator and pressed 30, the button lighting up beneath my finger.
The doors slid shut with a soft hush, sealing me inside a space that smelled like money. Not new money either-old, expensive, effortless. Rich colognes layered over polished steel and fresh cleaning products, something crisp and sharp that probably cost more than my rent.
Meanwhile, I smelled like vanilla and cheap cashmere.
I chewed my gum hard until I blew a bubble just to give my mouth something to do.
God.
I had sex with my boss last night.
What the hell was I supposed to say to him?
Good morning, sir! Hope you had a great night! Thanks for wrecking my entire body and making it impossible for me to sit normally today!
I squeezed my eyes shut. God, this was a disaster.
The elevator hummed as it climbed, the numbers ticking higher, my stomach sinking with every floor. My reflection stared back at me in the mirrored walls-wide‑eyed, flushed, trying very hard to look like a normal woman heading to work and not someone questioning every life choice she'd made in the last twelve hours.
Get it together.
The elevator dinged softly as it reached the top.
The doors opened.
People moved everywhere-heels clicking, voices overlapping, phones ringing. Derveaux Corps was never quiet. It breathed. It buzzed. It watched.
I adjusted the worn strap of my thrifted bag on my shoulder and stepped out, immediately swallowed by motion-assistants rushing past, phones ringing, heels clicking, voices murmuring in clipped, professional tones.
Executive assistants. Department aides. People assigned to power.
Everyone looked busy. Important. Untouchable.
I was different.
I wasn't assigned to a floor or a team.
I belonged to one office.
My phone buzzed.
I froze.
A text lit up the screen.
Mr. Derveaux: MY OFFICE. NOW.
All caps.
My entire body heated at once.
Why did it look like he was mad?
Why did it feel like I was about to get in trouble?
And how the hell did he even know I was already here?
I swallowed, heart racing. Of course he knew. This was his building. His territory. The man probably knew when a pen went missing on floor twelve.
And it was already seven.
I exhaled slowly and walked toward his office, each step heavier than the last.
The moment I stepped inside, the world shifted.
The door closed quietly behind me, cutting off the noise of the floor like it never existed.
The air felt different in here.
Charged.
He was on the phone, leaning against his massive desk with one hand in his pocket. His black dress shirt was tight across his broad chest, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his veiny, muscular forearms. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, teasing the hard ridges of his chest. His suit pants hugged his hips perfectly, and the way he stood-relaxed, powerful, dominant-made my thighs clench involuntarily.
He was so ripped.
So dangerous.
Then his gaze lifted.
It happened instantly.
His eyes dropped-not to my face, but to the jacket.
His jacket.
Something dark slid through his expression, slow and unmistakable. His jaw tightened. His eyes deepened, turning almost black, like I'd just confirmed something he already knew.
Ownership.
He ended the call without a word, lowered the phone, and looked at me fully now. Not surprised. Not amused.
Claimed.
He didn't smile. Didn't speak. Just stared at me like I'd stepped into his territory wearing proof.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he lifted one finger and motioned for me to come all the way inside.
My throat went dry.
Every nerve in my body screamed at me to run, but my feet betrayed me, carrying me toward him like I was caught in a gravitational pull.
As I stepped into his office, the door slowly closed behind me, sealing me in with him.
And the temperature in the room suddenly felt a lot hotter.
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