Claimed In The Spotlight

‎I stood in front of the mirror that morning, barely recognizing the woman staring back.

‎The black dress clung in all the right places, elegant yet daring, the kind of outfit that made silence follow wherever you walked. I curled my hair loosely, applied a faint red tint to my lips, and for once… I wanted to see if he’d notice.

‎

‎Jayden’s voice from last night still echoed in my mind.

‎Dress beautifully tomorrow.

‎No explanation. Just a command dressed like a compliment.

‎

‎As I walked through the office lobby, conversations slowed. A few jaws even dropped. The sound of my heels filled the air like music, and for the first time in a long while, I felt—powerful.

‎

‎“Melissa!” Chloe whispered, eyes wide. “Who are you trying to kill today? You look like a walking sin.”

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‎I laughed softly, pretending I wasn’t nervous. “Just following orders.”

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‎“Whose orders?” she teased.

‎I didn’t answer.

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‎Then the elevator doors opened.

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‎Jayden stepped out, tall, calm, impossibly composed in his charcoal suit. His gaze swept the room—and landed on me.

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‎The moment stretched. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, but his eyes… they burned. Slowly, his lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile, more like acknowledgment. Or possession.

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‎When he finally spoke, his voice was low, meant only for me.

‎“Careful, Ms. Sanders,” he said, walking past, his shoulder grazing mine ever so slightly. “You’re making it hard for people to focus.”

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‎My breath hitched. “I thought that was the point, sir.”

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‎He stopped mid-stride, turned slightly, and his eyes flickered with something unreadable—amusement, maybe. Or warning.

‎“Good,” he murmured, and walked away.

‎

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‎---

‎

‎The reason behind his mysterious request revealed itself later that morning.

‎A meeting with a new investor, Mr. Rogers—wealthy, polished, and very interested in expanding partnerships. Jayden’s instructions had been clear: Attend. Take notes. Say as little as possible.

‎

‎I followed him to a five-star restaurant, notebook in hand. Mr. Rogers greeted us with an easy smile, but it was his assistant, Michael, who seemed unable to tear his gaze away from me. Every time I glanced up, his eyes were there—lingering.

‎

‎Jayden noticed. I could tell by the tightening of his jaw.

‎

‎As the meeting continued, Michael’s attention became impossible to ignore. His gaze wasn’t subtle; it crawled, assessing, admiring. When the meeting ended, he finally smiled, it wasn’t professional—it was a challenge.

‎

‎And that’s when Jayden moved.

‎

‎Without breaking his conversation, he moved from where he was standing, came behind me, and placed a firm hand on my waist.

‎The contact stole the air from my lungs. His touch wasn’t rough—just steady, possessive, claiming.

‎“She’s with me,” he said smoothly, eyes locked on Michael. “My personal secretary. And I don’t share.”

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‎The room went silent.

‎

‎Mr. Rogers chuckled awkwardly. “Ah, I see you keep your team close, Mr. Roberts.”

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‎Jayden smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Only the ones worth keeping close.”

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‎I sat frozen, every nerve alive under his touch. The weight of his hand lingered long after he withdrew it.

‎

‎

‎---

‎

‎When the meeting ended, the drive back to the office felt like an eternity. I could still feel the ghost of his fingers against my waist.

‎

‎As soon as his office door closed behind us, I turned.

‎“What was that, Jayden?”

‎

‎He looked up from his desk, expression cool. “What was what?”

‎

‎I stepped forward, my pulse still uneven. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. The hand. The claim. In front of everyone.”

‎

‎His eyes met mine, calm and sharp as glass. “I don’t allow personal relationships between my employees and clients. You were distracting him.”

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‎“Distracting?” I repeated, heat creeping up my neck. “You made it sound like I was—”

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‎“Mine?” he interrupted, voice low. “That’s what it sounded like, didn’t it?”

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‎I froze. “That’s not funny.”

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‎“I wasn’t joking.” His tone softened, but his gaze didn’t. “He was looking at you like you were for sale, Melissa. I don’t tolerate disrespect in my meetings.”

‎

‎“That doesn’t mean you had to—”

‎“Had to what?” he cut in, stepping closer. “Touch you? Remind him who he was looking at?”

‎

‎My heart pounded. “Jayden—”

‎

‎He stopped right in front of me, close enough that I could smell the faint spice of his cologne. His voice dropped to a whisper.

‎“You wore that dress, and every man in that room noticed. Including me.”

‎

‎I swallowed hard. “That’s not my fault.”

‎

‎“No,” he said, his gaze dipping briefly to my lips, “it isn’t. But it’s still a problem.”

‎

‎Silence thickened between us. The kind that hummed, dangerous and magnetic.

‎Finally, I took a shaky breath. “Then maybe you should stop looking.”

‎

‎He smiled faintly. “If it were that easy, I wouldn’t have told you to dress beautifully.”

‎

‎For a moment, neither of us moved. Then he stepped back, walls snapping back into place as quickly as they’d cracked.

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‎“Meeting adjourned, Ms. Sanders,” he said briskly, returning to his desk.

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‎I turned to leave, but before I reached the door, his voice caught me again.

‎“Melissa.”

‎

‎I stopped, pulse fluttering. “Yes?”

‎

‎His tone softened, almost imperceptibly. “Next time… don’t let anyone make you feel like a prize to be won.”

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‎I nodded slowly. “And what about you, sir? What were you trying to make me feel?”

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‎He looked at me for a long moment, eyes dark and unreadable. “That’s what you’ll have to figure out.”

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