Page 61 of The Devil of Downtown

His eyes darken, green diminished by black, as I peel them down, mortified at how wet they are.

“Give them to me,” he growls, like he’s barely holding on.

He pockets them, then catches my jaw in his hand, forcing my gaze to his.

“Every time I look at you tonight, I’ll know your bare pussy is wet and ready for me. And if you’re a really good girl...” his thumb traces my lower lip, “I’ll let you fuck my tongue. Do you understand?”

A shaky breath escapes. “Yes.”

He releases me, slides my straps back into place, and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear like he didn't just talk me out of my underwear.

“Good girl, then we’re ready to go.”

Holy Fuck.

Someone send me oxygen. I think I’m about to pass out.

.

Chapter sixteen

Ivy

Dane slows to a stop outside the glass façade of the Met. He swings out of his low seat, tossing his keys to a tuxedo-wearing valet. The entrance glows under a canopy of light. A red carpet unfurls from the doors, spilling into a sea of black tuxedos and glittering gowns. Paparazzi loiter, waiting for a sighting of any high-profile celebrity. I stall for half a second, tugging at the satin at my hip, suddenly too aware of where I am and who’s watching.

Dane offers a steadying hand as I slide out of the car as elegantly as possible in four-inch heels and tight satin. Even with heels, my five-three height is no match for his imposing frame. His hand finds the hollow of my back as he guides me forward. It’s nothing more than a light touch, but every nerve in my body reacts as if it’s more.

Inside, the ballroom is a masterpiece, crystal light fixtures casting light over a live orchestra, servers gliding past with trays of champagne and oysters balanced on silver.

In here, among his colleagues and rivals, Dane is the version of the man I first met. Ruthless control. That hard shell nothing can penetrate. As much as I feared this version of him, there’s something magnetic about watching him slip into it, like seeing a predator step onto open ground. A challenge you know you’ll lose, and still can’t help leaning towards. He’s in his element; that subtle shift in his posture like a switch flipped.

This is his arena.

His kingdom.

And I’m the unexpected guest.

A toy at his disposal, already learning what it costs to lose to him.

His hand stays at my back, thumb brushing along the strip of bare skin where jewels glint under the light. It’s possessive and protective all at once, and I hate how much my body yearns for it.

A cluster of investors converges near the bar—men who look like they could buy and sell continents before breakfast. Sharks in tuxedos, smiles too white. Too calculating.

“Black,” one of them calls out, a red-headed woman dripping in diamonds on his arm. “Word is you cleaned up at Bexley. Half of us lost a small fortune when that stock tanked.”

Dane’s smile is faint but razor-sharp. “Shame, Fergus, you always underestimate me. But if you’re that desperate, I’ll set you up with a GoFundMe.”

A ripple of tight laughter passes through the circle. Another man, slick and younger, leans in. “So what’s next for you, Dane? You’ve already made the rest of us look bad this quarter. Surely you can give us a hint.”

“Careful,” Dane says lightly. “Keep fishing, and I’ll have to start billing by the hour.”

They chuckle again, but the tension doesn’t ease. Everyone’s still measuring, calculating, waiting for him to slip.

The redhead on Fergus’ arm lets her gaze sweep over me like I’m another asset on Dane’s balance sheet. “And where did you find this pretty thing?” she asks, syrupy-sweet.

Before Dane can answer, I smile sweetly. “Oh, he didn’t find me. He coerced me into it.”

The laughter that follows is too loud, too knowing, the kind that assumes it’s irony. Women flock to Dane. I’m not blind; I don’t miss the gazes flicking towards him from all corners of the room. Curious. Assessing. Hungry. Dane’s fingers press firmer at my spine, a warning that only I can feel. “Coerced?” he murmurs against my ear, voice low enough to scrape against my nerves. “We’ll revisit that word. Later.”