Meal

I finished the meal faster than I meant to, shoving down the last bite and grabbing the glass of water. I tilted it back and swallowed the whole thing in one go, the cool rush doing nothing, absolutely nothing, to settle the storm twisting inside me.

My mind was stuck on her. That woman. The one his guard announced so casually, like she was someone familiar, someone expected. And the more I thought about it, the more it scraped at me until I knew I wouldn’t breathe right unless I went downstairs and saw for myself. Who she was. What she was to Caesar. If she was another slut he kept around… or if she was here to replace me.

I slid off the bed, still naked, not even thinking about clothes. I stalked out of the room and down the hallway, each step fueled by that ugly mix of curiosity and something worse, something I didn’t want to name.

My feet hit the stairs, and the second I reached the bottom, the sight waiting for me made every muscle in my body coil tight. There he was, Caesar.

Sitting on one of the plush couches, broad and calm, that infuriating composure wrapped around him like a second skin. And she, God, she looked like she’d walked straight out of some glossy, expensive magazine. Tall. Petite. Of course she was petite. She possessed a petite figure that naturally drew men to her.

Her dress was a blood-red slip of fabric, tight enough to look painted on. It clung to her breasts, revealing a deep, reckless V-line that looked like one wrong shift would send her cleavage spilling out. The material hugged her hips and stretched over her small, round ass, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

She wasn’t even sitting properly, her legs angled just enough to make it obvious she wasn’t wearing panties. She perched partly on him, partly on the couch, like the space existed for her alone, angled toward him so her huge breasts pressed together and lifted, practically on display for him and his eyes alone. Her elbow rested on his shoulder in a lazy, intimate balance, her legs elegantly crossed as if she were posing for a camera. And with her free hand, she traced the line of his jaw with slow strokes dragged by her long, manicured fingers tipped in glossy red, like she had every right to touch him.

Her face hovered close to his as she stroked his cheek, her expression soft. She wore makeup that was flawless and expensive, luxury painted into perfection. Every shade matched her skin so seamlessly it made her look sculpted, almost unreal. A soft shimmer dusted her high cheekbones, catching the light whenever she shifted, turning her into something deliberately eye-catching.

Her lashes were thick and dramatic, the kind that didn’t just blink, they performed. Every slow flutter looked intentional, seductive… like she was batting them on purpose just for him.

Her blonde hair was pulled into a sleek high ponytail, long and glossy, with shorter pieces framing her forehead just right, styled to look effortless even though it clearly wasn’t.

And those lips of hers. Deep, seductive red. Overlined just enough to make them look fuller, glossier, and hungrier. Lips designed to be looked at. Lips that pressed against Caesar’s cheek like she’d done it more times than she should. Like she knew exactly how to get his eyes on her. Exactly how to claim space that wasn’t hers.

My chest rose and fell too fast. A slow, hot pulse throbbed under my skin. Who the fuck is she to touch him like that?

My fists curled so tight my knuckles ached. I bit down on my lower lip hard enough to taste the faint metallic sting.

They still hadn’t noticed me, so I moved slow, sharp steps forward, each one fueled by a jealousy I had no right to feel. My breasts bounced with every step, but I didn’t care. I wanted them to see me. I wanted him to see me.

The closer I got, the worse it hit.

She laughed softly at something Caesar murmured, her voice light and sweet, too sweet, practiced sweet. And then her hand slid even lower across the middle of his chest in a slow, smooth possessive stroke like she had the right to touch him, like she already had.

And the stupid, flirty, sexy, infuriatingly hot bastard named Caesar…He didn’t push her away. He didn’t even flinch as if he was already used to it.

My blood simmered so hot it felt like it might scorch through my veins. Oh, he is so going to get a payback. He told me not to see other men, not to touch anyone else…and yet here he was, letting other women crawl all over him like it meant nothing.

My stomach tightened, jealousy slicing sharp and ugly through me and before I could even overthink it, I stepped fully into the room,nude, unbothered, and unapologetic for the shit I'm about to do.

I cleared my throat loud enough to shatter whatever little moment they thought they were having.

“You might want to introduce me to her, Ceasar.” I dragged his name out like a weight, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes, while my nude body announced itself long before my words ever landed.

His gaze snapped up the second I entered his line of sight and just like that, those eyes darkened. Hungry. Dangerous. Possessive in a way that tightened something deep inside me.

The woman’s head turned slowly, her brows lifting in surprise. Her wide gaze traveled down my body slowly, dragging, assessing, like she didn’t know whether to be offended, intimidated, or impressed.

My nipples stood taut in the cool air and the faint, lingering marks he’d left on me last night still visible to anyone paying attention. Their eyes were locked on me, staring at me because I was naked. And I let them look.

Let her see exactly what he had done to me and also see who he left trembling and breathless in his bed.

Good.

I crossed the space between us, every step silent but sharp, and leaned down onto him, sinking onto his lap like I’d been invited, like I belonged there. My legs draped over one of his thighs, my hand planted behind his broad shoulders for balance and the other settling boldly on his chest. Claiming him right in front of her.

Ceasar shifted beneath me, muscles tightening under my touch, but he didn’t stop me. He didn’t breathe a word. His eyes were locked on me. Not her but me.

And the woman noticed. Oh, she definitely did notice.

His gaze traveled slowly from my face down to my exposed body, jaw tightening as if he wanted to pull me onto his lap, straddling me over him and making me ride him until I forgot my own name. His breath hitched at the press of my naked body against his.

Her composure wavered just for the briefest moment and she froze, hands falling away from him, utterly stunned by my audacity.

I slid my legs higher along his thighs, brushing the hardness straining through his pants, my voice low enough for only him to hear: “Do you let all your guests touch you like that… or just her?”

Caesar exhaled slowly, dangerously, heat pressing into my skin.

I pressed my lips against his cheek, letting the warmth of my breath tease his ear. My fingers trailed lightly down his chest, tracing the ridges of his muscles, drawing a shiver from him without seeming desperate.

He inhaled sharply.

The woman cleared her throat, reminding me she was still present.

I didn’t bother looking at her and I could already feel the weight of her stare digging into my skin.

“You didn’t tell me you were expecting a visitor, sexy thing,” I said, voice teasing, letting the words roll with a lazy, mocking drawl. “I would have put on some clothes before I came down.” The subtle edge in my tone and the way my body claimed him in front of her left no doubt whose attention and possession mattered here.

“Who is she?” I asked next, not bothering to hide the sharp edge in my voice.

Caesar’s jaw clenched, the tension in him palpable. But before he could answer, the woman’s hand slid over his shoulder again, nails grazing his chest in a way that made my blood simmer.