Chapter 5: In My Domain, He's Mine

She knew Calvin had every reason to treat her coldly. After all, she had inflicted pain by pushing him away and letting Anthony take her choice.

“I know I was too foul-mouthed with you and with Anthony—”

The mere mention of Anthony sent fire through every fiber of his being, and he stopped her mid-sentence.

“Don’t you dare speak his name in front of me! His voice dripped with fury. “Do you miss him so much that you have to say it right in my face?!”

His hand clasped hers with a force that made her heart skip. His jaw clenched, eyes burning like fire, and every fiber of his being radiated tension at the sound of that name.

She froze for a moment, then lightly patted his hand, her voice trembling.

“No… no, I didn’t mean it that way,” she whispered, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “We… we didn’t even—”

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Smith rushed in, cutting through the chaos outside.

Every pair of eyes instantly turned toward him.

“Sir, Miss Guinevere is here; she insists on being let in.”

Cleopatra knew exactly what all the fuss was about.

“Let her in,” she commanded.

Smith turned to Calvin, waiting for his orders.

“It’s alright,” he said, waving his hand. “Do as she said.”

Smith opened the door and ushered Guinevere inside, then stepped out of the room.

Guinevere stepped inside, her brows furrowed together; the sight struck her like a bolt of lightning. Cleopatra and Calvin sat dangerously close, drawn together like an unbreakable magnet and iron.

Her heart plunged, sinking straight into her chest, but she forced a smile.

“Hi, Cleo. I’ve been trying to reach you on the phone, but you weren’t answering.”

She closed the distance and intentionally attempted to get lowered herself between them.

Cleopatra got up, stopping her in her tracks and steering her away, firmly settling her into the chair opposite them.

“Guinevere, you really shouldn’t inconvenience a VIP,” Cleopatra said coolly. “Please, remain seated there.”

“What are you talking about? A VIP?” Guinevere scoffed. “It’s Calvin; he’s my CEO.”

Cleopatra paid no mind to Guinevere; she lowered back on her seat.

Her fingers grazed a grape as she lifted it from the bowl, eyes fixed on Calvin with a mischievous, almost daring intensity. Slowly, deliberately, she brought it to his lips, the space between them humming with unspoken tension.

“Open your mouth, Cal,” she purred, her voice dripping with sultry mischief. “Let me tempt you; let me treat you sweetly.”

Calvin obeyed before he could hold himself, his lips parted open as he accepted it.

Then, with a poised elegance, she turned her attention to Guinevere.

“He’s maybe your CEO,” Cleopatra murmured, her eyes smoldering with a dangerous, irresistible allure, “but in my domain he’s mine.”

A smirk tugged on her lips, sharp and teasing, cutting through the air like a blade.

“Isn’t it only proper to indulge my clients? After all, would it not be unbearably rude to interrupt?”

Calvin froze, a storm of confusion and desire swirling within him as their words volleyed back and forth. Every glance, every subtle movement was etched into his mind, yet his lips remained sealed, his body still a silent observer caught in the electric tension between them.

Guinevere’s gaze hardened and stunned.

‘Cleopatra could look me dead in the eye and speak such audacious words.’

Her composure was strained, barely holding.

“Ah, right,” Guinevere said softly. “I suppose it wouldn’t be respectful to interfere with your work.”

“Bingo!”

Cleopatra’s voice rang out, her head tilting toward Calvin’s shoulder, slow and charged with an undeniable electricity.

Guinevere's gaze blazed as they locked onto Cleopatra’s.

“Indeed, escorts are always possessive of their clients, not just one.”

“Can you really call your manager a model?” Cleopatra asked, her tone sharp and laced with challenge.

“Of course not!” Guinevere snapped.

"Good,” Cleopatra said, her tone laced with teasing disdain. “Seems your two brain cells are still managing to function.”

“You—”

Cleopatra cut her off sharply, her gaze unwavering.

“It’s the same here,” she said, her tone sharp and unwavering. “There’s a difference between a server and an escort.”

As anger surged through her, Guinevere snatched a glass of wine and downed it in a single, defiant gulp.

Another chime echoed through the room, and Alvin burst in, carrying two cans.

“I apologize, Mr. Ink. We ran out of citrus freshener, so we rushed to get more,” he said, motioning as his staff placed the cans with meticulous precision. “I hope the service meets your standards. Please inform me if anything displeases you.”

His sharp gaze sliced through the lingering tension in the room.

“Very well. I hope your evening gets off to a good start,” he said, bowing gracefully before departing with his staff.

The door shut.

“You shouldn’t drink so much; do you want to ruin that flawless skin of yours?” Cleopatra’s voice dripped with playful scorn, her eyes flashing like sparks. “Honestly, bestie, I’m still on duty; I’ll get back to your call later.”

Cleopatra sprang to her feet as she walked towards Guinevere.

“You just go on ahead, alright?”

She lifted her up gently and guided her toward the open space.

Guinevere grabbed her immediately, her voice trembling in a whisper.

“What’s going on? Are you cool with Calvin now?”

“I don’t remember ever not being cool with him,” Cleopatra replied smoothly. “I’ve got work to do, bestie. Bye for now.”

She closed the door behind her and turned, striding toward Calvin with a bright, teasing smile.

“Aren’t you two supposed to be cool?” he asked, confusion flickering across his face.

She lowered herself back to her seat, stretching out her hand to caress his cheek.

“You shouldn't concern yourself with her, okay?”

Calvin turned his face.

“Don't dare.”

She withdrew her hand.

“I'm sorry.”

Calvin looked ahead, his jaw clenched.

“Just serve drinks and don't fucking touch me.”

She exhaled quietly; sadness clouded her features.

After serving Calvin a few drinks, he rose, only for Cleopatra to hurry to his front, holding out her phone.

“Please… please, can you input your number?”

Calvin stared at her for the longest seconds.

‘What is she playing at?’

A slow smirk curved his lips.

‘You want to play? Okay, let's play.’

“Sure,”

He accepted the phone and typed in his number before giving it back. Without waiting for her reply, he moved.

“Thanks—”

He pushed the door open and stepped out, turning to Smith.

“Settle the bills and meet me in the car.”

He left without a moment’s hesitation, his guards flanking him like shadows. Reaching the car, he slid in, and a few minutes later, Smith took the driver’s seat.

Calvin’s gaze lingered on the call window, his hand folded beneath his chin, sharp and focused, until he finally broke the silence in a measured, commanding voice.

“Hire the investigator you can find. I want details about Cleopatra uncovered.”

His jaw tightened slightly.

“Leave no stone unturned.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

Two days later.

Cleopatra's eyes snapped open by the sharp vibration of her phone on the side table.

Her brows furrowed sleepily as she reached for it, strands of dark hair falling across her face. She grabbed her phone, and her gaze landed on the screen.

[Katie: Come to the INK model immediately.]

The sleep vanished from Cleopatra’s eyes at once.

She sat upright instantly, pulse quickening.

“Is something happening?”

Without wasting another second, she slipped out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. Warm water cascaded down her skin while her thoughts churned endlessly beneath the steam.

“I knew he wasn't going to look at me sweetly, but his voice turned cold whenever I mentioned Anthony's name.”

A faint smile curled on her lips.

“That's jealousy, right? I intended to pay him a visit tomorrow, but since I'm going to the company today. I will just meet him in his office.”

In an hour she moved through the hallway, heading outside. Minutes later, she arrived at one of Marvale’s most luxurious department stores.

The glass door slid open before she walked in.

“If I am going to face Calvin today,” she muttered, “then I would do it flawlessly.

Inside radiated extravagance. Crystal lights glittered overhead while elegant instrumental music drifted through the polished halls. Designer fragrances lingered delicately in the air.

She surveyed the room.

“Good morning, ma’am,” one of them greeted politely with a professional smile. “How may we assist you today?”

Another staff member stepped forward smoothly.

“What style are you looking for? We can help create the perfect look for you.”

Cleopatra paused thoughtfully.

Then her lips curved slightly.

“Something short,” she said politely.

A dangerous glimmer flashed through her eyes.

“… And sexy.”

The attendant nearly lit up.

“Excellent choice, ma’am. Right this way.”

He guided her through rows of luxurious designer pieces while she brushed her fingertips lightly against silk, satin, velvet, and chiffon.

But then, a familiar voice drifted through the store.

Cleopatra froze instantly, and her heartbeat skipped.

Slowly, quietly, she stepped forward from one of the display shelves and looked ahead.

Her gaze landed on them before her lips parted.

“Guinevere and Mrs. Emilia.”