The Ammendment

Raina Cole’s heels clicked against the polished marble of Rainer PR’s 47th floor, the sound slicing through the tense hush as she kept pace beside Cazien Wolfe. Every step felt like a tightrope walk with a blade beneath it. He strode with force, his tailored suit hugging his frame, his storm-gray gaze cleaving through employees like a scythe. “Move,” he barked at a loitering intern. The kid jolted, a coffee cup tumbling from his hands. It hit the floor with a smack, splattering upward, thick and dark like blood.

Raina flinched as droplets hit her cream blouse. Heat flooded her cheeks. She clutched her clipboard tighter to her chest, hoping to cover the stain, but she knew what the others saw: the boss’s girl. The whispers and rumours followed her like smoke. That she had her job because she was warm at night. She held her spine straight, her teeth grinding.

As she walked behind him, a memory surfaced. Her ten-year-old self, cornered behind the orphanage garden shed with Isla circling like a hawk.

“Little Ray,” she’d hissed. “Nobody’s pet.”

But that wasn’t true anymore.

Raina shoved the memory down as Cazien dismissed a boardroom full of execs with a flick of his hand. The doors parted like theater curtains, the eyes inside slicing into her as she passed. She followed him like a shadow, tied by Clause 9B.

She had a flash from that night in his penthouse. The wall, the pressure of his hands, her gasp and his breath - yet he probably didn’t remember. She hated how it still pulsed between her thighs when she remembered. Her grip on the clipboard tightened, nails biting wood.

In the breakroom, the fluorescent lights hummed above stainless counters. Raina stood alone, sipping cold water, needing something to drown the heat building in her skin. The door creaked open. She didn’t turn until she felt the presence behind her.

“New girl,” came a voice, low and amused.

She turned.

A man leaned against the counter, tall, lean and carelessly handsome. Tousled dark hair, sleeves rolled and top button undone like rules didn’t apply to him. His eyes were green, the dangerous kind... sharp and always laughing. He twisted the cap off a water bottle and offered it.

“You look like you need it more than me.”

“Raina,” she said, accepting. Their fingers touched. His grin widened.

“Dante... Wolfe.” He looked at her coffee-stained blouse, then at her skirt, gaze lingering. “Bet you’ve already learned how fun the wolves are.”

Her spine stiffened. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking”, she tried to make jokes.

He stepped closer, smirking. “Cazien’s little pet, huh? He eats what he plays with.”

Raina didn’t blink. “I'm not....” she began but, decided against it.

He only chuckled, winked, and left her with a pounding pulse and more questions than answers.

******************

That night, her apartment felt like it was shrinking after a very hot shower. She sat rigidly on the fraying couch and then as if timed, her phone lit up with a text.

Mixer. 8PM. Be there. —CW

No pleasantries. Just command.

Her throat tightened. She rose, moving to her closet like a sleepwalker. Her hand hovered over two options - safety or war? She chose the black dress. It was tight and risky. She zipped it up, stared in the cracked mirror. Her reflection stared back looking more like her everyday - now. The new job had its effect afterall. She painted her lips red while her body was wrapped in the shadow. She didn’t recognize the woman who stared back now and she liked it.

A car pulled up to pick her up. It was sleek and black with no driver. She slid in with her legs trembling with cold hands. Manhattan blurred outside the tinted windows. When they stopped in front of Wolfe Tower, her stomach twisted. She knew this building. The penthouse. The place where she lost control for an instant.

The elevator opened into silence. No music. No chatter. No mixer. Just dim lights, and Cazien leaning at the bar, pouring whiskey.

“You lied?” she said, the word tight in her throat.

He turned, drink in hand, his eyes unreadable. “I wanted you alone.”

The dress suddenly felt like a mistake.

She crossed her arms. “You shouldn’t be calling me after work hours.”

“I didn’t make you come.”

“You know why I came.”

He stepped forward. “Do I?” He raised a brow then continued. “Would you have come if I asked nicely?”

“No.”

“Exactly.”

He crossed the room in a few long strides, stopping inches away.

Raina tried not to flinch, but her body remembered too much. The weight of his breath. The heat of his skin. The taste of confusion, lust, and something dangerously close to pain. He studied her like she was a problem he hadn’t solved yet.

“You didn’t just bring me home…. Something happened that night, didn’t it?” he asked quietly.

She said nothing.

He stepped closer.

“I woke up… foggy... I thought I hallucinated it. Then i checked the surveillance. I only saw you coming in and leaving. Did I make up the memories I have?”

She finally looked up. “You didn’t.”

He looked like she’d slapped him.

“I didn’t mean to take advantage of—”

“You didn’t,” she cut in. “I made a choice. A stupid one. But mine.”

He went quiet. Something flickered across his face—relief, maybe. Or disappointment. Then he moved to the bar. Poured two drinks. Handed her one.

She took it without drinking.

“I know what’s in your medication,” she said, cool and clipped. “I've seen it before. That’s why I stayed.”

He blinked. “You read the bottle? And understood it?”

“I was supposed to study neuropharmacology before my funding disappeared. I took the internship with your company to get enough money to chase that dream.”

Cazien laughed, low and dangerous. “You’re full of surprises.”

“You have no idea.” She finally sipped the drink in her hand.

For a moment, the air crackled between them again. But this time, no one moved. They held each other's gaze and it felt like eternity passed before he stepped closer, slow, deliberate, closing the inches between them until his breath brushed hers.

He was tall—intimidatingly so—but tonight, he didn’t use it like a weapon. Tonight, he wore his power like a second skin.

“What if I wanted to… what If I wanted us to redo that night?” he asked. “This time, awake. This time, conscious. Every touch. Every sound. Every inch.”

Raina’s breath caught. She opened her mouth, but no words came. Her mind screamed run, but her body leaned in.

Cazien lifted a hand—didn’t touch, just hovered by her cheek, his fingers trembling with restraint.

“You can say no. I’ll call a driver. You’ll leave untouched.”

She didn’t move.

“Or,” he whispered, “you let me show you what it’s like when I remember everything.”

Her back hit the marble pillar behind her. He paused inches away, his scent thick sandalwood, whiskey and want. The heat between them flared, sharp and real.

She didn’t answer.

He scooped her into his arms like it was nothing. Her breath hitched as he carried her into the grand, steamy, already set bathroom. A clawfoot tub waited, steaming with lavender-scented water.

He set her down and undid the zipper of her dress, slow and reverent. Raina's brain froze. Where was she? What was she doing here? Was this really happening? The fabric slid off her skin like a whisper. She stood bare, trembling, his eyes tracing her like fire. Her glasses fogged. He stripped without a word stealing her breath with the great phyique of him... muscle, scars and heat. Then he stepped into the water and pulled her in.

She gasped at the temperature. He settled her against him, her back to his chest, the water enveloping them. His hands roamed her body slick and confident. Like he had done this before. The soap lathered over her breasts, down her waist, between her thighs. She moaned, arching back with her thighs parting beneath the water.

“Cazien… Mr. Wolfe...”

“Call me Cazien,” he growled. His fingers plunged into her, slow but deep, her hips rolling to meet him.

Her moans filled the steam-heavy air, real and raw. The kind that betrayed you. She shattered with a cry, gripping the edge of the tub. He watched her fall apart, his name on her lips.

He pulled her up, water cascading down her body, and wrapped her in a thick towel. They moved to the bedroom, skin flushed, breath shallow.

He laid her bare back on the soft mattress covering her with his body as his mouth found hers in the dimly lit room. He entered her slow but deep. Each thrust was deliberate. Her legs wrapped around him like her only lifline as her nails scratched down his back, every movement desperate and sacred.

“Fuck....,” he breathed as he came, and she followed, crying out without a care.

**************

When she woke, the sheets were cold. A note waited on the pillow: Office. 9AM.

She stared at it with tight throat and curled onto her side. Her body still throbbed and her skin still wore him in every way. By 8:45, she was at her desk. The lipstick of the night was gone. Her hair was pulled back and her mask was perfect. Cazien walked past her like she didn’t exist. Her chest hollowed. He didn’teven spare her a glance - not a flicker. She felt ashamed.

Her phone buzzed from Malika's text, 'Where the hell are you? Call me.' She silenced it.

Her eyes burned as she stared at his door. She’d given him too much. She whispered to herself, teeth gritted,

“I’m not his fucking pet.”