Chapter 5: First Fight

I never liked galas. Especially not the kind that reeked of perfume, pretense, and power.

The ballroom was drenched in gold and champagne, the chandeliers hanging like judgmental eyes above our heads. Koven had told me to wear something “appropriate,” and I did—but I made sure it hugged my body the way silence hugged his. Tight. Tense. Beautifully dangerous.

He didn’t say much the entire ride here. Just looked out the window like he was already bored of me. Fine. I was getting bored of playing nice, too.

I smiled through the evening. I did. I shook hands, I drank my champagne, I played the pretty wife. Until he showed up.

Marcus Thorne. CEO of some second-rate tech firm who thought his money meant manners didn’t apply to him.

Koven was busy entertaining some government official. I was left to mingle. That was the rule: smile, sip, survive.

“I didn’t think Mavros liked them feisty,” Marcus said, swirling his drink as he looked me up and down like a piece of glass he wanted to shatter.

I blinked. Once. Twice.

“Excuse me?” I asked, voice flat.

He smirked. “You just don’t look like his usual. Bit too sharp at the edges. I bet he keeps you around just to break that spirit.”

And that’s when the glass of champagne left my hand and landed all over his smug little face.

There was a collective gasp. The music faltered, but I didn’t flinch. My fingers still tingled from the chill of the glass. His shock was delicious. I almost smiled.

But then I felt it—Koven’s stare. The weight of it. Heavy. Burning.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t rush. He simply crossed the ballroom in a way that made every head turn.

“Zephyra.” His voice was like silk dipped in warning.

I didn’t apologize. “He insulted me.”

“I saw,” he said, and for a second, his lips curved like he was amused.

But that look vanished as quickly as it came.

“Now you’ll deal with the consequences,” he said, low enough that only I could hear. And then he took my wrist.

Not harsh. But firm. Possessive. Like I belonged to him and he was reclaiming his property.

He led me out of the ballroom. Through the marble halls. Past the valet. Into the limo.

The moment the door shut behind us, silence exploded between us like thunder.

And then—he pinned me.

One hand on the seat, the other gripping the back of my neck. Not to hurt. Not to scare. To control.

My back hit the seat, but my breath caught for an entirely different reason.

“You want to be punished, don’t you?” he whispered, voice thick, ragged, hovering just above my lips.

My eyes met his. I should’ve pushed him away. I should’ve slapped him. But my body didn’t move. My skin lit up under his gaze. And his mouth was right there, like a promise I was too proud to ask for.

“You humiliated him,” he growled. “And by extension—me.”

“Then maybe he shouldn’t have opened his mouth,” I shot back, my breath shallow.

His jaw ticked. “You don’t get to cause scenes in my world.”

“Then maybe I don’t belong in it.”

“You don’t,” he said, quick, sharp, like a blade. “But here you are. And until this contract ends, you’ll play by my rules.”

I glared at him. “And if I don’t?”

That’s when he leaned closer. So close, his lips brushed my ear.

“Then I’ll make you.” His voice wasn’t angry—it was hungry.

My heart stuttered. I hated that I shivered. That a part of me leaned into the threat like it was a drug.

Then his eyes dropped—slowly, sinfully—to my mouth.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he murmured, studying me like I was a puzzle he wasn’t sure he wanted to solve or ruin. “That’s the problem.”

“Maybe I should be,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.

He smirked. And then—he let go. Just like that.

The space between us snapped back like a rubber band. I sucked in air, as if I’d been underwater. My hands were trembling, but I didn’t let him see it.

He sat back like nothing happened. Adjusted his cufflinks. Looked out the window.

“You’re lucky I find you interesting,” he said simply.

“And you’re lucky I haven’t walked away.”

He turned to me, eyes sharp. “Try it.”

That wasn’t a threat. That was a dare.

And I hated that some twisted part of me wanted to take it.

I looked away, jaw clenched. The rest of the ride was quiet. But it wasn’t peace.

It was war with the volume turned down.

End of Chapter 5.