NICO

I shouldn’t have come.

I told myself that all the way to his bedroom. Told myself again as I stepped past the threshold. And I was still saying it in my head when I let him pull me onto the bed like I belonged there.

But I didn’t stop him.

Ares was already shirtless, the muscles of his chest glowing faintly in the warm light. His skin was cool silk over hard steel. My hands landed on his shoulders, not to push him away—but to steady myself.

To brace for impact.

He didn’t rush. That was the worst part.

He touched me slowly. Possessively. Like I was something expensive he’d just purchased and intended to fully enjoy.

Fingers slid beneath my shirt, pushing it up, grazing my skin. When it cleared over my head and hit the floor, he let out a quiet sound—half approval, half hunger.

“You were made for obedience,” he murmured.

“No,” I said, breath hitching. “I wasn’t.”

He smirked. “You keep telling yourself that.”

Then he kissed me.

God. The man could kiss.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was dominance in motion—his mouth slanting over mine, tongue pushing past my lips, teeth dragging over my bottom lip like he owned it.

I kissed him back with everything I had.

His hand gripped the back of my neck, holding me there. The other skimmed down my chest, fingers spreading wide over my abdomen.

“You’re holding back,” he whispered.

I glared at him. “I’m not one of your playthings.”

He chuckled. “No. You’re better. You fight.”

His palm slid lower, fingers grazing the edge of my waistband. “But I’ll win.”

I grabbed his wrist. “Don’t.”

He froze.

I met his eyes—black and burning—and for a moment, we didn’t move. His breath ghosted against my cheek. His voice dropped, low and sharp.

“When you say no,” he said, “I stop.”

Silence stretched.

Then I let go of his wrist.

He didn’t move.

“You’re still testing me,” he said, watching me.

“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe I want to see if you mean what you say.”

He leaned in, mouth brushing mine.

“Test me all you want, Nico. Just know I’ll test you back.”

This time, when his hand slid into my pants, I didn’t stop him.

I let him touch me.

I let him take control.

And somewhere in the mess of sweat and breath and whispered curses, I realized something I didn’t want to admit.

He wasn’t breaking me.

I was letting him.

ARES

He was beautiful like this.

Laid out under me, shirtless, breath ragged, jaw clenched in defiance and desire. His body obeyed even when his mind resisted. His pulse spiked when I bit down on his collarbone. His hips lifted when I palmed him through his pants. His hands fisted the sheets but didn’t push me away.

He wanted this.

He just hated that he did.

I didn’t need words from him.

His body told me everything.

When he came undone, it was with my name gritted between his teeth, his chest heaving, sweat glistening on his skin. I didn’t kiss him after—didn’t offer comfort.

I just watched him.

Watched the way his walls cracked a little more.

And the hunger behind his eyes stayed.

Good.

This was only the beginning.

NICO

I didn’t sleep.

Not because I was ashamed.

But because I was furious.

Furious at him for being so calm after what we’d done.

Furious at myself for needing more.

I left his bed at 4 a.m., dressed in silence, heart hammering.

And just before I stepped out, I looked back at him.

He was already watching me.

Lying there in the dark, one hand under his head, those damn eyes locked on mine like he already knew I’d return.

“Go ahead,” he said softly. “Run.”

I didn’t answer.

I just walked out, closing the door behind me.

But I knew he was right.

I’d be back.

NICO

I didn’t sleep the next night either.

Not because of guilt—no, that wasn’t it.

It was the silence that kept me awake. The echo of Ares’s voice in my head, the memory of his touch still burned into my skin.

My body remembered everything.

And I hated how much I wanted more.

I trained harder than usual at the gym that morning, trying to sweat him out of my system. It didn’t work. Nothing worked. Not even when I pressed a cold shower to my burning neck. Not even when I distracted myself with clients, meetings, and a few flirty texts from a hookup I barely remembered.

Ares had ruined all of it.

I didn’t want anyone else.

And I didn’t know what the hell that meant.

He texted me that night.

Ares: You left something behind.

Me: What?

Ares: Your self-control.

I almost threw my phone across the room.

Instead, I sent one word:

Me: Asshole.

The three dots showed he was typing again… then disappeared.

I stared at the screen for five minutes.

He never replied.

Bastard.

ARES

I wasn’t in the business of chasing.

I didn’t need to be.

People came to me. Offered themselves, begged for my time, my money, my attention.

But Nico?

He didn’t beg.

He resisted.

And that made him irresistible.

I watched him from the security cameras that dotted my estate. He had no idea just how many angles I could see him from. His jaw was tight, his eyes unreadable. But every so often—when he thought no one was looking—he let the tension drop.

That’s when I knew.

He was still thinking about me.

I wanted to ruin him slowly. Not just his body. His mind. His control. His idea that he could walk away from this.

Because I wasn’t just keeping him for pleasure.

I was keeping him for a reason.

And eventually, he’d understand.

NICO

I got the call three days later.

“Package for you,” the concierge said.

“I didn’t order anything,” I replied.

“It’s from Ares Castelli.”

Shit.

I went down to pick it up. It was a black velvet box—too elegant, too deliberate. Inside was a simple silver chain.

And a note.

You looked good on your knees. Try wearing this next time you are.

My face went hot. My body betrayed me instantly. I hated the way my cock twitched just from a few arrogant words.

I threw the box across the room.

But not before pocketing the chain.

ARES

He didn’t respond to the gift.

He didn’t return my calls.

But I saw it.

Two days later, under his shirt at the corner of his throat—the chain glinting beneath his collar.

Good boy.

He was falling.

He just didn’t know it yet.

NICO

The night I broke was unplanned.

I was working late, alone in the empty back office of my security firm. It was quiet, the hum of surveillance monitors around me. I should’ve gone home.

Instead, I opened my messages.

Me: Come over.

No reply.

Ten minutes passed.

Then…

Ares: Open the door.

The fucker had been downstairs the whole time.

I buzzed him in.

When he walked in, he didn’t say a word.

Neither did I.

I backed against the wall.

He stalked forward like a wolf who already knew the outcome.

His hands gripped my wrists, pinning them above my head.

His mouth hovered inches from mine.

“You really want to play this game again?” he asked.

“This isn’t a game.”

“Oh, Nico…” He grinned. “It is. And you’re losing.”

I kissed him before he could say another word.

Or maybe he kissed me.

It didn’t matter.

I tore at his clothes. He shoved mine halfway off. We didn’t even make it to the desk. My back hit the cold surface, his hand tangled in my hair, my thighs spreading before I could think better of it.

I should’ve stopped.

I didn’t.

And when he pulled the chain from my neck and wrapped it around his fist, tugging my mouth back to his—

I let him.

God help me.

I let him.

ARES

He screamed my name this time.

No restraint.

No hesitation.

He gave me everything.

And that night, when I left him sprawled across the desk, flushed and breathless, I bent down and whispered in his ear:

“You’re mine now.”

He didn’t argue.

UNKNOWN VIEWER – CCTV FEED LOG: 03:42 a.m.

A private line crackled.

A deep voice spoke into the dark.

“They’ve made contact again.”

A pause.

Then a second voice answered:

“Good. Keep watching. He’ll lead us straight to the truth.”

The first rule: Never let the line blur.

The second rule: Never kiss your employer.

Jace had already broken both by sunrise.

The sun poured in through the penthouse windows, a golden warmth illuminating the quiet chaos of the previous night. Adrian stood near the floor-to-ceiling glass, shirtless, a glass of scotch in one hand, the other resting loosely in the pocket of his slacks. Jace watched him from the bed, his body still humming with the memory of Adrian’s mouth, Adrian’s touch, Adrian’s control.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. Silence wasn’t awkward between them—it was charged.

Adrian finally broke it. “You’re not a good bodyguard.”

Jace propped himself up on an elbow, still naked beneath the silk sheets. “Because I kissed you back?”

“No.” Adrian’s voice was calm, cold even. “Because you let it happen.”

A muscle ticked in Jace’s jaw. “You started it.”

Adrian turned then, slow and dangerous. “And you didn’t stop it. Tell me, Jace—do you think that’s wise?”

“No,” Jace said honestly, “but I don’t regret it.”

Adrian crossed the room in three long strides, stopping beside the bed. He set his glass down on the nightstand, his gaze locked on Jace’s face like a weapon. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe I like the burn.”

Adrian’s lips curved into a smirk, but there was no humor in it—only warning. “You’re not ready for what I can give you. Or take from you.”

Jace leaned forward, unashamed, defiant. “Then try me.”

Adrian’s hand snapped out, gripping Jace’s jaw—not rough, not gentle either. Just firm enough to remind him who was in control. He studied him for a beat too long. “You really don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“You think I’m scared of you?”

“I know you should be.”

They stayed like that for a beat. Breathing the same air. Feeding off each other’s tension.

Adrian released him suddenly and stepped back. “Get dressed. We’re leaving in ten.”

Jace frowned. “Leaving where?”

“To meet my father’s lawyer.” Adrian didn’t look at him. “He wants to discuss the will.”

—

The ride down in the private elevator was silent, but the air between them thrummed with unfinished business. Adrian stood tall in a tailored charcoal suit, every inch the powerful heir. Jace, in a dark turtleneck and jacket, looked every bit the dangerous shadow at his side.

When they arrived at the law firm downtown, Adrian’s demeanor shifted into something colder, sharper. It wasn’t until they stepped into the office that Jace realized why.

A tall, elegant man stood from behind the desk, his silver hair slicked back, sharp eyes calculating behind thin glasses. “Adrian. And… this must be the infamous bodyguard.”

Jace didn’t like his tone.

Adrian’s reply was smooth, rehearsed. “Mr. Cavill, this is Jace Moreno. He’s not here for your entertainment.”

“Pity,” Cavill drawled, then handed Adrian a sealed envelope. “This came by private courier this morning. Your father’s final addendum.”

Adrian opened it, read the first few lines, and then—froze.

Jace saw it. Just a flicker. But it was there.

“What is it?” he asked quietly.

Adrian didn’t answer. He reread the document, slower this time. Then he looked at Cavill. “This is real?”

“I verified it myself,” the lawyer said. “Your father left instructions for a secondary heir. In case you… refused to take the reins.”

Adrian’s voice was a razor. “And who is this ‘secondary’?”

Cavill lifted a brow. “Your half-brother.”

The room went still.

Jace stepped closer instinctively, alert. “You have a brother?”

“No.” Adrian’s voice was dark. Final.

But Cavill didn’t back down. “Apparently, you do. And he’s on his way here. You’ll be meeting him in less than an hour.”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “This is a setup.”

“Possibly,” Cavill said, unfazed. “But it’s legal. And binding. If he chooses to contest your claim, it could become… messy.”

Jace leaned closer to Adrian, lowering his voice. “Want me to vet him before he walks in?”

Adrian didn’t answer right away. He stared at the letter again, then at the city skyline behind the glass. “No,” he said finally. “Let him come.”

—

Back in the car, Adrian said nothing. Jace didn’t push.

He’d seen the shift in his employer—Adrian had gone from seductive and smug to cold and calculated. But beneath the mask, Jace could feel something else: uncertainty. Maybe even fear.

Jace watched him for a moment, then said, “You okay?”

Adrian looked at him. “You’re not here to ask questions.”

“I’m not just your bodyguard,” Jace said. “Not anymore.”

The car slowed. Adrian leaned in, close enough that their knees touched. “You really want to be involved in this?”

“I already am.”

Adrian’s voice dropped. “Then there are more rules.”

“Give them to me.”

“One,” Adrian said, fingers brushing against Jace’s thigh, “don’t ever lie to me.”

“I don’t.”

“Two,” Adrian’s voice deepened, “don’t fall in love with me.”

Jace held his gaze, unflinching. “Too late.”

A ghost of a smile touched Adrian’s lips—almost sad. Almost dangerous.

And then the car pulled up to the penthouse again, and the moment ended.

For now.