Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil

“Your bonus just came through.” Samuel caught me before I reached the penthouse, his tablet tucked against his side as he held out his phone for me to see. The bank alert was still open on the screen, and for a second I just stared at the amount because I had not expected the hotel to process it that quickly. “My bonus?” “For the work on this event.” He lowered the phone and smiled. “You earned it.” A small breath left me, and my fingers tightened around the strap of my bag. It was not a fortune, but after the way Shane had been handling my money lately, seeing an amount that actually belonged to me still felt strange. “Thank you.” “Do not thank me. Thank payroll.” He started toward the penthouse. “And try not to spend it all before lunch.” That got a smile out of me. “I will try.” The penthouse suite was empty when I got there. The advance team was due any minute, and the regular guests had checked out yesterday, so I had the floor to myself for now. Something about

The penthouse was quiet when I got there. I walked through and checked everything one more time. I made sure the flowers were fresh and the minibar was stocked and the pillows were fluffed. Everything looked perfect. I stood in the middle of the room and looked around. My phone buzzed. I pulled it out. Shane. ‘Need you home early tonight. Ordering pizza.’ – Shane I stared at the message. Shane never ordered pizza. He always complained about the cost. I typed back. ‘I will try. Gala prep is busy.’ ‘Try harder.’ – Shane I set the phone down and pressed my palms against the counter and closed my eyes. I was so tired. My head ached and my feet hurt. I opened my eyes and picked up the phone and went back to work. The morning passed in a blur of checklists and phone calls. I coordinated with housekeeping and catering and security. I handled a complaint about the noise from the construction next door. At noon Marcus appeared in the breakroom and handed me a sandwich. “A

The gala had been building for hours before the first guest arrived, and by the time the entrance doors opened, the hotel no longer felt like the same building I had walked into that morning. Staff moved between the ballroom and service corridors with trays, garment bags, spare linens, and last-minute instructions, while security checked invitations and badges at every restricted entrance. My tablet was already full of changes, but the floor was ready, and for the first time that evening I had a few seconds to stand still and look across the ballroom. The room had been transformed. The lights were lower than usual, the tables carried fresh arrangements, and the polished floor reflected movement from every direction. Guests began filtering in, first in small groups and then in a steady stream, and the quiet preparation disappeared beneath conversations, cameras, waiters, and security instructions. I moved toward the VIP corridor when Samuel caught up with me, his tablet tucked beneath

The suite door clicked shut behind me as I stepped inside with the second tray. The air felt thicker than before, heavy with the faint trace of whatever had been in that drink and the low hum of the city far below. Stellan stood near the balcony doors, his back to me at first, shoulders tense like he was holding something fragile together. He turned when I set the tray down, his eyes tracking me with that same unfocused intensity from earlier. The room spun a little at the edges for both of us, the drug making everything feel slightly off, like the floor tilted just enough to keep us unsteady. “You came back,” he said, voice rough around the edges. “Part of the job.” I arranged the plates the same careful way as before, but my hands trembled slightly on the silverware. The pull toward him sat heavy in my chest alongside the guilt of knowing Shane waited at home. Wrong because I was married. Right because my body had already decided it needed this. I assumed the strange mix c

I barely had time to pull on clean clothes before Shane came back into the bedroom. His eyes were still dark with that same rage. He grabbed my arm and shoved me against the wall. My back hit the plaster with a dull thud. “You think you can just shower and pretend nothing happened?” he growled. He yanked my pants down roughly along with my underwear. The cool air hit my still-sore pussy. “I’m going to fuck the lies out of you.” I stayed still because fighting would only make it worse. He shoved my legs apart and pushed into me dry and hard. The stretch burned sharp. I bit my lip to keep quiet as he started thrusting deep and angry. Every slam of his hips sent pain shooting through my already tender walls. He was rougher than usual, gripping my hips hard enough to leave fresh marks over the ones from last night. “Tell me who fucked this pussy last night,” he snarled pounding harder. His hand came down in a stinging slap across my ass. Then another. The pain mixed with the soreness