LOGINEve
I stand in the center of our room, the silence of the house pressing against my eardrums. Dominik’s heat lingers on my hip where his hand claimed me, the phantom warmth a brutal reminder of his ownership.
Every sigh, every twitch, every indulgence, is mine to witness and interrupt.
EveThe encrypted laptop feels heavier than it should. A sleek black portal into the legitimate face of Dominik’s empire. He called it an apprenticeship, a way for me to prove my worth beyond the bedroom. I call it Phase Two of my infiltration. He thinks he’s binding me closer by giving me responsibility. He’s just handing me a sharper knife.Stefano spent the first hour walking me through the system with polite, professional detachment. His eyes, the color of faded denim, missed nothing. He explained the tiered access, the reporting structures, the performance metrics for the real estate portfolio. Hotels in Monaco, commercial towers in London, sprawling, undeveloped beachfront property in Costa Rica. It’s a vast, complex web of assets, all managed with the same ruthless efficiency as Dominik’s less savory ventures.Stefano was courteous, and he answered my questions thoroughly, but there was an underlying current of assessment, of subtle warning. ‘Don’t waste his time. Don’t step
DominikReturning to New York feels like re-engaging gears after cruising in neutral. The island was a necessary interlude, a controlled environment for reprogramming and conception. It served its purpose. Eve is softer, her body pliant and responsive, marked by my possession in ways both visible and intimate. The defiance still flickers, but it’s banked, overshadowed by the undeniable physical bond we forged. And she carries my heir. I feel it with absolute certainty, a powerful instinct that overrides any lingering doubt about those fucking pills. The sheer volume and frequency of our encounters must have overwhelmed whatever pathetic chemical barrier she erected.But an empire isn't sustained by bedroom victories alone. I need to bind her to my world not just through sex and fear, but through purpose. My purpose. Giving her a stake, however controlled, in the legitimate side of the enterprise is the next logical step.Perhaps thinking that she should share my throne is too aspi
EveThe transition is like stepping from a vibrant, sun-drenched painting into a sepia-toned photograph.One moment, the air is thick with the scent of salt, jasmine, and Dominik’s skin, the sky an impossible, aching blue. The next, I’m breathing the cool, filtered air of the mansion, the ocean scent replaced by lemon polish and the faint, sterile aroma of too much empty space and recycled air conditioning. The constant, low hum of the house systems feels jarring after the natural sounds of wind and waves.The Gulfstream journey passed in a blur of luxurious numbness. Dominik slept for most of it after fucking me on the table. Sprawled beside me with infuriating ease, while I stared out at the clouds, my mind a turbulent sea of conflicting emotions. Relief warred with dread, satisfaction tangled with self-loathing. The island forged a connection I didn’t want but can’t deny. Stripping away layers of my resistance until only the raw, aching need remained. Now, that raw need is being
DominikThe final sunset of our honeymoon paints the sky in violent strokes of orange, purple, and blood-red. It’s a suitably dramatic backdrop for the conclusion of this reprieve. Fourteen days spent isolated in this crucible of sun, sea, and sex, designed for the singular purpose of breaking her will and planting my seed.I watch Eve from the terrace as she stands at the water's edge, letting the gentle evening waves wash over her ankles. She’s wearing a whisper-thin black cover-up over one of the obscenely small bikinis I chose. The setting sun turns her silhouette into a dark, elegant flame against the fiery horizon.She’s different than the woman I brought here. The frantic, cornered energy is gone, replaced by a kind of wary stillness. The fire hasn’t been extinguished, and I wouldn’t want that, but it’s banked. Contained beneath a surface that has learned the futility of open rebellion. Her body is no longer a battleground, it’s fully occupied territory. She moves with a lan
EveThe waterfall cavern feels like a secret I carry under my skin. A temporary suspension of the rules, a moment where the lines blurred and the raw attraction between us eclipsed the power dynamic, if only for an hour. The hike back down was quieter, the sharp edges of our banter softened by a shared exhaustion and the lingering intimacy of the grotto. Dominik didn’t push me, didn't mock my slower pace. He simply walked beside me, his presence a solid, grounding weight.Back at the villa, the fragile truce holds. There’s a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a lessening of the constant, humming tension. He doesn’t crowd me. He doesn’t issue unnecessary commands. He reads reports by the pool while I lose myself in a novel, the silence comfortable rather than charged. It’s unsettling. This quiet détente is more disorienting than the open hostility. It allows space for thoughts I don’t want to have, for feelings that complicate the simple, clean lines of hatred I’ve tried so hard to mai
DominikThe fragile truce forged in the waterfall cavern lingers. An unfamiliar softness smoothing the jagged edges of our usual dynamic. Eve is more at peace, less overtly hostile. She meets my gaze more often, a flicker of something complex replacing the constant, simmering fury. Curiosity, confusion, maybe even a reluctant acknowledgment of the perfection of the raw lust we shared. It’s a subtle shift, but I register it. The temporary ceding of control, the focus on her pleasure, it achieved its purpose. It unbalanced her, introduced a new variable into her calculations. Predictability is a weakness I won’t tolerate, even in submission.This newfound quiet, however, is a thin veneer over the unchanging reality of my world. While Eve explores the villa’s extensive library or lies by the pool, lost in thought, my mind is half a world away, dissecting the implications of Armando’s move. Enzo’s initial response, the broken bones, the warehouse fire, was a necessary slap on the wris







