Alejandro stared down at the woman who had fallen arep on him. The audacity!


    He wanted more of her, but he had exhausted her.


    Adjusting her head so she wouldn’t wake up with a pain in her neck, he got up gently from the bed and brought a fresh towel wet in warm water an wiped Rivera cleanpletely.


    And after he was done, he went to take a warm baths.


    The water tan hot, and be hissed as he sat immersed in the tub.


    His head leaned back against the porcin edge, ck strands of wet hair slicked away from his forehead, andshes dropped with dampness.


    The scent of cedar and bergamot from the bath oil drifted through the air, but it did little to save the tension in him, as his thoughts weren’t still, and it was all because of her.


    And that bastard’s lips on Nivera. His woman,


    He shut his


    seyes, and the image that had branded itself into his mind immediately came to mind.


    He could still see it–Nivera, in that figure hugging emerald dress, tilting her head with that amused little smile she wore when she wanted to <b>appear </b>unaffected. That mouth pressed on someone else’s.


    Alejandro’s fingers twitched beneath the surface. The anger, the possessiveness it wasn’t unfamiliar, but this time, it burnt differently.


    It had started with a call.


    A call from the manager at the ce his mother frequented, the same and she had asked Nivers to meet her at. He answered only because he assumed it had to do with Marceline.


    It always did.


    Ever since she’d copsed there two years ago, he had ced an unofficial guard on the premises. It was a quiet arrangement: a set of eyes to watch from a respectful distance whenever his mother dined there alone,


    It <b>was </b>to be discreet and unintrusive.


    But this time, the call wasn’t about Marceline.


    “She left already, sir,” the man on the other end said, “but yourpanion remained. She… was seen with someone.”


    Alejandro’s grip on the edge of the tub tightened, and his knuckles whitened.


    “She who?” he had asked coldly, but deep down, he already knew.


    “Miss Nivera Elton. You said to report anything unusual.”


    Alejandro <b>had </b><b>paused </b>for a second. <b>“</b>And!”


    The man hesitated, as if aware that the next words might cost him his job.


    “She was seen… kissing a man. His name is Damon Damon Castillo.”


    Damon Castillo.


    The name rang too loudly in Alejandro’s <b>ears </b>as the water threatened to boil from the heat of his skin alone, and it wasn’t because he was the youngest


    Son of the Castillo empire.


    “I thought you’d want to know, sir. From what I gathered, they seemed to have known each other before.”


    Alejandro’s heart had thundered so loudly in that moment that for a brief second, he’d felt lightheaded


    Martins‘ report. Of course,


    He had been thorough when he first had Nivera Investigate. It was always standard. Anyone who entered his spate was studied, filed, and stored in a


    ording to that report, Damon Castillo was her ex–just a name, with a note that he and flivera had been in a rtionship that had ended before her


    father even <b>kicked </b>her out.


    There was no scandal attached to him, to notable ties to her current career, and not a soul mentioned him since.


    But now?


    Alejandro’s jaw clenched so tightly he could hear the bone creak in his ears.


    Of all the people of all the possible oues. Her ex?


    The water churned slightly as he shifted in the bath. One hand raked <b>through </b>his hair, his breathing slow but dangerously controlled.


    Alejandro sat forward, his chest heaving slightly, as droplets slid down his temples.


    He hadn’t expected to feel this.


    Anger? Sure. <b>That </b>was expected. She was his–at least to the world.


    His name and reputation had been tied to her the moment he announced her as his. The world saw her as his woman now, and he had no intention of letting that image crack.


    She might not wear his ring or share his name, but the world had seen her on his arm. In his car. In his home.


    And someone had dared to touch her?


    He didn’t just touch her, he fucking kissed her, and it was worse that it was him. Damon. A part of her past.


    Damon was a man


    a man who had known her before he touched her–maybe held her when she cried.


    He didn’t <b>care </b>for her. He didn’t do the whole love–and–jealousy routine. He never <b>had</b>. Love was a trap, a distraction, a weakness.


    <b>But </b>this? This <b>was </b><b>about </b>disrespect.


    Disrespect he would not tolerate.


    Except that exnation didn’t soothe the fire licking up his spine. It didn’tease the way his stomach twisted at the thought of herughing at something the <b>bastard </b>had said.


    of her letting someone else that close. Letting someone else taste her.


    What did she feel when Damon touched her? Did her breath hitch? Did she soften? Did she lean in<b>, </b>or did he pull her in?


    That simple truth echoed like a war drum.


    It shouldn’t matter. She <b>was </b>free to do as she pleased, She didn’t belong to him.


    But that was a fucking lie, and he knew it,


    She did belong to him.


    He’d made sure of it


    He made the


    and she was his. Whether the liked it or not


    And if she thought she could break away just became ofe history resurfacing, the didn’t understand


    (what being h


    He growled under his breath, the sound swallowed by steam.


    That first night he touched her, he had told himself it would be enough, that one taste would sate the curiosity and would been since the moment she poured a dink on him at his club.


    But it hadn’t. It had made things worse. He had, however, refused to give had decided not to hold back, and now that he finally satisfied his craving


    at all thanks to the rage of emot


    Now, he couldn’t stop imagining it—her under him again, eyes defiant and vulnerable all


    She had arched into his touch like it was the only thing grounding her.


    Fuck, he got hard just thinking about how she moaned his name.


    No! He thought to himself, and the water sloshed violently as he stood from the bath


    Droplets streamed down his body<b>, </b>and he reached for a towel without <b>a </b>word. He didn’t bother to pat dry. Just wrapped the thick and stormed but of the bathroom and into his bedroom,


    k cotton around his want


    It looked colder than he remembered. His room used to be a ce of <b>sanctuary </b>of control. But now, the sheets felt suffocating and the silence,


    His eyes f


    fall on the bed, which was empty, she wasn’t in it.


    He stood there for a moment, towel in one hand, drying the ends of his hair with the other. The emptiness of the space wed at him.


    It wasn’t theck ofpatty.


    It was theck of her


    With a low, irritated exhale, he dropped the <b>towel </b>and pulled on a pair


    But sleep? That felt… unreachable.


    tir of <b>ck </b>lounge pants and a dark tee


    He didn’t even hesitate before walking out of his room and heading down the corridor.


    His hand was steady as he opened her door.


    She was still asleep, and so he didn’t turn on the lights.


    Instead, he crossed the room <b>and </b>slipped under her covers like it was the most natural thing in the world.


    For a second, he thought about getting back, as her being naked wasn’t helping matters, but his body wouldn’t move.


    He pressed his cheek to the pillow <b>that </b>smelt like her shampoo.


    “Alejandro.” He turned when he heard Niver mutter. He found her still asleep, and a smile appeared on his face.


    She was muttering his name in her sleep, which meant she was dreaming about him. Not Damon, him.


    That alone made him smile, and his chest didn’t ache quite as much,


    A few minutester, hisshes lowered as his breathing evened.


    <b>And </b>as much as he hated to admit it… this? This was the only ce that felt right.