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The Billionaire’s Command

Author: EfuaDreams
last update Last Updated: 2025-10-08 09:24:22

Jocelyn's POV

I used to think power came from money.

Now I know it comes from silence, the kind Marcel Ruiz uses like a blade.

The first time I saw him, he didn’t speak. Not when I spilled coffee on his Italian shoes, not when I stammered through an apology, not even when his assistant whispered, “Mr. Ruiz doesn’t tolerate mistakes.”

He only looked at me.

That stare pinned me in place like glass under heat, dark eyes sharp as smoke and danger.

That was six months ago.

Now I’m his executive assistant.

Not because I earned it, but because Marcel Ruiz chose me. And when a man like him chooses, it isn’t an offer. It’s an inevitability.

His office smells like leather and rain. The skyline burns gold beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a thousand glittering reflections of the city that worships him.

I stand across from his desk, heart pounding as I set down the quarterly files. My hands tremble, but I hide it by tightening my grip on the folder.

He looks up. “You’re shaking.”

His voice is
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    Jocelyn's POV Morning comes like a secret I shouldn’t have kept.The city hums below my window, traffic, sirens, rain washed clean from the night before but inside my apartment the air still smells faintly of him: cedar, smoke, inevitability.I don’t sleep. I just replay everything.The knock. The silence. His mouth at my ear when he said, After tonight, I’m something else.Something else. Something dangerous.And maybe something I wanted all along.The car he promised arrives at eight sharp: black, tinted, discreet. Inside waits a note, written in his measured hand.'Be late again, and I’ll come get you myself. — M.R.'My pulse flutters as I fold it into my purse. It isn’t a threat. It’s a truth.When the elevator doors open to the top floor of Ruiz Holdings, everyone pretends not to stare. They sense the shift, even if they don’t understand it. I feel it too. The building hums differently now, tuned to his mood.He’s already in his office, back to the door, jacket off, sleeves roll

  • Deep Inside (Erotica short story collections)   The Billionaire’s command

    Jocelyn's POV Rain licks the city windows like it’s trying to wash the night clean. It doesn’t succeed. I’m still thinking of him.Marcel Ruiz’s voice won’t leave me, low, rough, deliberate. You belong to me, even if I never touch you.I’ve been standing by the window for an hour, barefoot, the hem of my satin slip brushing my thighs, pretending I can ignore the storm outside and the storm in my chest.I almost laugh when I hear the knock. Soft, once. Then again, harder, sharper, the kind that demands obedience.My breath catches. No one else knocks like that.I open the door, and there he is, dark suit, drenched collar, eyes that look like they’ve followed me all night.He doesn’t wait for permission. He steps inside.“Marcel—” I start, but he cuts me off with a single look. The door closes behind him with a heavy click that sounds like a lock turning on something deeper than steel.The air between us hums with electricity.“You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper.He takes one slow step

  • Deep Inside (Erotica short story collections)   The Billionaire’s Command

    Jocelyn's POVI used to think power came from money.Now I know it comes from silence, the kind Marcel Ruiz uses like a blade.The first time I saw him, he didn’t speak. Not when I spilled coffee on his Italian shoes, not when I stammered through an apology, not even when his assistant whispered, “Mr. Ruiz doesn’t tolerate mistakes.”He only looked at me.That stare pinned me in place like glass under heat, dark eyes sharp as smoke and danger.That was six months ago.Now I’m his executive assistant.Not because I earned it, but because Marcel Ruiz chose me. And when a man like him chooses, it isn’t an offer. It’s an inevitability.His office smells like leather and rain. The skyline burns gold beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a thousand glittering reflections of the city that worships him.I stand across from his desk, heart pounding as I set down the quarterly files. My hands tremble, but I hide it by tightening my grip on the folder.He looks up. “You’re shaking.”His voice is

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    The rain had been falling for hours. It blurred the windows of Kovoc’s penthouse, turning the city into a smear of lights and sorrow. Kimberly stood at the edge of the glass wall, barefoot, wearing one of his black shirts, oversized, swallowing her frame. Behind her, the room still smelled of gunpowder and whiskey, the scent of Kovoc’s world.He watched her from the shadows.His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, dark hair mussed, veins still standing in his hands from what he’d done an hour ago, killing the man who’d betrayed her. The man who had once been her brother.Kimberly hadn’t cried. She couldn’t. Something inside her had cracked cleanly instead. Her heart didn’t know how to feel for both men, one who destroyed her innocence, and one who had avenged it.“I thought revenge would make me feel lighter,” she whispered. Her voice trembled, but it didn’t break. “It didn’t. It feels like I’m carrying him inside me… and you too.”Kovoc’s voice came low, gravel-dark. “You’re not meant to f

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