Chapter 12: The Wrong Dress

SAESHA POV

The mansion felt too alive that evening. Voices echoed through the grand halls, deep and commanding, men who’d come to talk money with Veeraj. His world. His kingdom.

And me?

I’d been stupid enough to step into that world dressed like sin.

A silk slip of a dress, pale champagne, short enough that when I walked I felt the air kiss the back of my thighs. No bra underneath, the fabric clung to my nipples whenever I moved. My hair loose, my gloss shining, my heels making me taller than usual.

It was reckless. I knew it. But something inside me wanted to test him. Wanted to see if Veeraj would break in front of his precious partners when they looked at me.

And they did look.

Every time I passed the table to bring another round of drinks, I felt their stares crawling over me. Lingering. One of them even licked his lips when I bent slightly, pretending not to notice.

But I felt it.

And I felt him.

Veeraj.

Sitting at the head of the long glass table, dark suit perfect, tie loosened just enough to show the vein at his throat. He was listening, nodding at figures, strategies, deals. But his eyes—those sharp, dangerous eyes—kept cutting back to me like blades.

Not once. Not twice. Every damn time I entered the room.

His partners noticed me, but they didn’t notice the quiet thunderstorm in his jaw, the way his hand flexed on the armrest, the way his gaze burned hotter with every lingering look cast my way.

I had no idea what kind of hell I was walking into, but I couldn’t stop. I wanted it. The burn of his attention.

And God, did I get it.

The meeting dragged. I could feel the tension like smoke, thick and choking, clinging to my skin. I didn’t dare sit, didn’t dare pour myself a drink. I just served and lingered, letting my dress ride up each time I leaned, pretending innocence while my pulse drummed loud enough to drown the low hum of their voices.

Finally, after hours, the men left. Their polished shoes clicked across the marble, their fake politeness dripping as they shook his hand, one of them giving me a smile that made my stomach twist.

The door closed.

And silence.

I turned, already half-smiling, ready for his dark smirk. But Veeraj didn’t smirk.

He was still at the head of the table, his chair turned slightly, one hand on the glass surface. His gaze was locked on me. Dark. Dangerous.

“Come here,” he said.

Two words. Enough to freeze me.

“Veeraj—”

“Now.”

I swallowed hard, the gloss on my lips suddenly sticky, my heels heavy. I moved anyway, crossing the room one slow step at a time until I stood in front of him. His cologne was sharp, his presence overwhelming.

His eyes raked me up and down, deliberately slow.

“You think I didn’t notice?” he asked, voice low, almost calm.

My stomach flipped. “Notice what?”

“The way they looked at you.” His jaw flexed. “The way you fucking wanted them to.”

“I—I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice cracked like a whip. He stood, towering over me, so close I felt the heat of his chest against mine. “You put on this little dress, walked into my meeting, and let them eat you alive with their eyes. Didn’t you, Saesha?”

My thighs pressed together instinctively. I wanted to deny it. I wanted to say it wasn’t what it looked like. But the truth? The truth made my cheeks flush.

“I just—”

“You just wanted attention.” His hand gripped my jaw, tilting my head back. His eyes were furious, but underneath, I saw it—the hunger. The claim. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

I couldn’t.

Silence.

He smirked darkly. “That’s what I thought.”

Before I could speak, he dragged me across the room, his grip unyielding. He shoved me down against the edge of the table, the cold glass biting into my bare thighs.

“You want their eyes on you?” he growled. “Then you’ll take my punishment for it.”

“Veeraj—”

“Bend over.”

My heart hammered. My body betrayed me. I bent, palms flat on the glass, my ass barely covered by the slip of silk.

He ripped the hem higher, baring me. His low curse filled the air.

“Of course. No panties.” His palm smacked my ass hard enough to make me gasp. “You little slut.”

The sting shot through me, sharp and hot. My nails scraped the glass. He didn’t wait. Another slap landed. Then another. Each one harder, his hand marking me, his voice a growl in my ear.

“This is mine. Not theirs. Mine.”

“Yes,” I gasped. My body trembled with every strike, pain and pleasure tangling in a way that made my core throb.

“You think you can flaunt this pussy for anyone else?” His fingers shoved between my thighs, finding me already wet. He chuckled, cruel. “Soaking. Of course you are. You like being degraded, don’t you?”

My eyes fluttered shut. “Y-Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I like being degraded.”

His laugh was low, dangerous. “Good girl.”

Two fingers slid into me without warning, stretching me, filling me, while his thumb rubbed cruel circles over my clit. My knees nearly buckled.

“Veeraj—please—”

“Please what? Please let you come after shaking your ass for my business partners?” He pushed deeper, curling his fingers, hitting that spot that made me cry out. “You’ll take what I give you. Nothing more.”

The table creaked under me as he fucked me with his fingers, merciless, his palm smacking my ass again when I moaned too loud.

“You want to be a slut in my house?” His breath scorched my ear. “Then you’ll be my slut. Only mine.”

Tears pricked at my eyes, the ache in my core unbearable, my body clenching around him.

“Say it,” he demanded.

“I’m yours,” I whispered, breathless.

“Louder.”

“I’m yours!”

His growl vibrated against my skin. “Damn right.”

And then, just when I was about to unravel, he pulled his hand away.

I whined, hips jerking, desperate. “No, please—”

“You don’t get to finish.” He smirked, shoving his wet fingers between my lips. “Suck.”

Heat flushed through me as I wrapped my mouth around his fingers, tasting myself. He groaned, watching me, his other hand gripping my hair.

“That’s right. Choke on the taste of your own desperation.”

I whimpered, swallowing around his fingers, my body quivering, my thighs slick.

When he finally pulled them free, he dragged me up against his chest, his hand gripping my throat lightly, his eyes burning into mine.

“You ever wear something like that again for anyone else,” he whispered, his voice deadly, “and I’ll ruin you so bad you won’t walk for a week.”

My lips parted, breath shaking. “Yes, Veeraj.”

He kissed me then, hard and punishing, his mouth claiming mine with the same fire as his hands had. By the time he pulled back, I was ruined, trembling, and utterly his.

And I knew this was only the beginning.

END OF CHAPTER 12