Chapter 3

Monday stretched out like a battlefield.

I woke up exhausted. My dreams had been haunted by two men whose faces kept blending together. Alexander. Sir. Alexander. Sir.

At work, I moved through my tasks on autopilot. Coffee. Files. Meetings. The endless churn of corporate life.

Alexander was brutal today. He criticized my report formatting in front of the entire leadership team.

"This is unacceptable, Vivian." He held up the document like it was contaminated. "The margins are inconsistent. The font sizes don't match. This looks like it was prepared by an amateur."

I stood there. Face neutral. Absorbing it.

"I'll redo it, Mr. Kane."

"See that you do."

Twenty-three people watched me leave the conference room. I kept my chin up. My shoulders back. I didn't let them see anything.

But inside, I was burning.

How dare he? After everything I do for him. After every late night and early morning. After being his perfect assistant for two years.

I sat at my desk and stared at the wall. Breathed through the anger.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Sir.

My heart jumped. I grabbed the phone, angled the screen away from anyone who might be walking by.

What are you wearing under your suit?

I blinked at the message. Read it again.

He wanted to know what I was wearing. Right now. At work.

A response from Sir in the middle of the workday. That was new. Usually he only contacted me at night. After midnight. In the safety of my apartment.

This was different. This was dangerous.

I looked around. The office hummed with activity. People typing, talking, moving. No one was paying attention to me.

I typed back: Why do you want to know?

His response came immediately: Answer the question, Velvet.

My breath caught. Even through text, his authority came through. I felt myself responding. That familiar heat between my legs.

I'm wearing black lace. The bra and panties you chose for me last week.

Good girl.

The praise hit me like a drug. Warmth flooded through my body. The anger from Alexander's criticism faded. In its place came something else. Something softer.

You followed my instructions.

Yes, Sir. Always.

I want a picture. Go to the bathroom. Show me.

My heart hammered. He wanted me to photograph myself. At work. Where anyone could catch me.

This was insane.

I should say no. I should tell him this crossed a line.

Instead, I stood up. Grabbed my phone. Walked to the women's restroom on unsteady legs.

The bathroom was empty. Thank God.

I locked myself in the largest stall. Leaned against the wall. Unbuttoned my blouse with trembling fingers.

The black lace bra was beautiful. Delicate. It made my breasts look amazing.

I took a photo. Sent it.

Then I hiked up my skirt. Pulled down the waistband just enough to show the matching lace panties.

Another photo. Another send.

I stood there in the bathroom stall of Kane Industries, half-undressed, waiting for my anonymous Dom to respond.

What was my life?

His message came: Beautiful. You please me.

The words made me wet. Right there. At work. Standing in a bathroom stall with my skirt around my hips.

Thank you, Sir.

Now fix your clothes and go back to work. But know this—I'll be thinking about what's under that suit all day. And tonight, I'm going to make you come so hard you forget your own name.

I pressed my hand against the wall to steady myself. My thighs clenched together.

Yes, Sir.

I fixed my clothes. Checked my reflection. Returned to my desk.

For the rest of the afternoon, every time I moved, I felt the lace against my skin. Felt his presence. His control.

Alexander's criticism stung less when I had Sir's praise echoing in my head.

Good girl.

You please me.

I carried those words like armor.

The day dragged on. More meetings. More demands. Alexander continued to ignore my existence except when he needed something done yesterday.

At 6 PM, the office started emptying out. I stayed. Alexander stayed. The same routine as always.

I was reviewing quarterly reports when I heard him moving around his office. Standing. Walking. He appeared in his doorway.

"You're still here."

"You're still here," I countered.

"I own the building."

"And I work for you."

He studied me. That intense gaze that always made me uncomfortable.

"The report you redid," he said. "It was better."

I blinked. Was that... a compliment?

"Thank you, Mr. Kane."

He nodded. Turned back toward his office. Then stopped.

"Vivian."

"Yes?"

He didn't turn around. "The lace suits you."

Ice flooded my veins.

I stared at his back. At his shoulders. At the way he stood perfectly still.

"What did you say?"

He turned then. His face was unreadable.

"I said the pace suits you. This work. The demands. You handle it better than anyone I've employed."

The pace. Not the lace. The pace.

I must have misheard.

"Thank you," I managed.

He nodded once and disappeared into his office.

I sat at my desk, heart pounding.

I had misheard. Of course I had misheard. Alexander Kane didn't know about my black lace underwear. He couldn't possibly know.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

At 9 PM, I finally left the office. Alexander was still working. The light from his office cast long shadows across the empty floor.

I went home. Ate a sad dinner of leftover pasta. Showered. Changed into the silk robe.

Then I sat in front of my laptop and waited for Sir.

He connected at 10:47 PM.

"Hello, Velvet."

His voice poured through my earpiece. Immediately, my body responded. Softening. Opening.

"Hello, Sir."

"Did you have a good day?"

I laughed. It came out bitter. "My boss humiliated me in front of the leadership team. Then made me redo an entire report. So no, not really."

"Tell me about it."

I told him. Everything. Alexander's criticism. The embarrassment. The long hours.

Sir listened. He asked questions. He cared.

"He sounds difficult," Sir said when I finished.

"He's impossible. Cold. Demanding. He treats people like tools. Like we're not even human."

"Does he?"

"Yes." I thought about Alexander. About his intensity. His distance. "He's brilliant. I'll give him that. But he doesn't see people. He sees functions."

"Perhaps he's just protecting himself," Sir suggested. "Some people build walls because they've been hurt."

I snorted. "Alexander Kane? Hurt? The man is made of ice."

"Even ice can melt."

I didn't have a response to that.

"Forget about your boss," Sir said. His voice dropped lower. "Tonight is about us. About you. I've been thinking about you all day. About what's under that suit."

The heat returned. Instant and demanding.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Take off the robe."

I did. Let it fall to the floor. Sat before the camera in nothing but skin.

"Beautiful," he breathed. "Touch your breasts. Slowly."

I cupped them in my hands. Ran my thumbs over my nipples. They hardened immediately.

We spent the next hour like that. Him directing. Me obeying. Building toward a climax he wouldn't let me have.

It was perfect. Exactly what I needed after the day I'd had.

When he finally let me come, I shattered into a thousand pieces. Sobbing. Shaking. Grateful.

Afterward, his voice gentled. Brought me back down.

"You're extraordinary, Velvet. Don't let anyone make you feel less than that. Not your boss. Not anyone."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Get some rest. Tomorrow is your presentation, yes? The one at 3 PM?"

I froze.

There it was again. The knowledge he shouldn't have.

"How do you know what time my presentation is?"

A pause. "You mentioned it last week, didn't you?"

Had I? I couldn't remember.

"I don't think I did."

"Perhaps I'm confusing details. Either way—get some sleep. You'll do wonderfully."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Velvet?"

I wanted to ask. Wanted to demand answers. But something held me back. Fear, maybe. Of what the truth might be.

"Nothing. Good night."

"Good night, my beautiful girl."

The connection ended.

I sat in the dark, staring at my laptop.

Too many coincidences. Sir knew about my 7 AM meeting. He knew about my 3 PM presentation. He knew details about my life that I was almost certain I'd never shared.

And Alexander...

The lace suits you.

I shook my head. It wasn't possible. Alexander Kane was cold and distant and didn't see me as a person.

Sir was warm and attentive and knew exactly how to take me apart.

They couldn't be the same man.

Could they?

I lay awake for hours, turning the puzzle over in my mind.

Tomorrow I had a presentation. In front of the board. In front of Alexander.

And I had a terrible feeling that something was about to change.