All Chapters of Owned By The Don : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

When Raven stepped into the elevator that night, she knew she wouldn’t be the same woman when she stepped back out.There had been no card, no whispered summons. Just Victor, appearing silently at her side in the lounge.“He wants you,” he’d said.Nothing else. No hint of what waited on the other side of the elevator doors, but Raven already knew.Tonight wouldn’t be about words. Tonight would be about surrender.The elevator descended past the main levels, deeper than she’d known Eden even extended. There was no button for the floor. No music. Just a keycard swipe and the eerie, muffled drop in her stomach.When the doors opened, she stepped into a world she hadn’t imagined, because her imagination hadn’t been dark enough.The walls were obsidian black, lit only by flickering sconces and the glint of polished chrome. The air was laced with the scent of leather, steel, and the faintest note of something floral, lavender, maybe. It didn’t comfort. It made her skin prickle.The space wa

The storm outside broke just before midnight. Rain thrashed the windows of Club Eden’s upper floors, streaking the glass like claw marks. Thunder rumbled overhead, a deep, constant growl that made the chandeliers tremble. Most of the guests had cleared out early, unwilling to risk soaked gowns and splintered heels. The floor staff had thinned. Dancers were gone, but Raven Knight was still here, still on the top floor. Still watching Jaxon Morreau.She stood near the edge of the grand lounge balcony, a crystal glass in her hand, filled with something amber and warm she hadn’t tasted yet. The lights in the club below were down to a glow. Only a low hum of music remained.Jaxon sat alone by the fireplace, fingers interlaced beneath his chin, staring into flames that didn't warm him.She had seen him dominant, seen him cruel, even seen him unrelenting, possessive and tender, but this? This was new. This was stillness. A rare, aching stillness.“Is this the part where you ask me if I’m oka

Raven was used to lies. She had built her career unraveling them, threading together what people didn’t say with the evidence they couldn’t hide. But Eden had become a place where the truth died quietly, and it always smelled like perfume and blood. Talia hadn’t shown up for her shift. That alone wouldn’t be unusual, dancers flaked, got lost in substances or clients or their own chaos. But Talia didn’t just miss work, she didn’t text, didn’t answer calls and didn’t even show up in any of the usual places. She had simply disappeared. Raven stood in the dressing room, staring at her friend’s empty vanity. The bulbs glared above the mirror like interrogation lights. Lipstick was still open. A half-used eyelash glue bottle lay on its side. Her perfume bottle, the jasmine one, stood uncapped. None of it felt like an exit. It felt like a ghost. “She was here last night,” said Cassie, a younger dancer curling her lashes in the mirror. “Left around three, said she was going to meet someon

The night at Club Eden thrummed with its usual dark elegance, but something inside Raven shifted. She moved through the crowd with strange clarity, as if the music had peeled away the evening’s haze and unveiled every secret hiding in the shadows. Raven slipped out of the private lounge where Jaxon had assigned her to monitor the VIP area. She’d taken notes on shipments, security logs, and interactions within Eden’s inner workings, grist for her investigation. Now, her mind was wired from adrenaline and suspicion. She’d seen the ledger files, the quiet mentions of trafficking routes and cryptic notations. But Zane’s cryptic threats echoed in her ears: "You’re next." Jaxon was just a room away, holding court with suppliers. Raven leaned in close to the open doorway, catching fragments of a conversation about encrypted hard drives and off-site storage. Her pulse hammered; she’d come too far to let anything slip. The bell over the VIP door dinged softly. Jaxon excused himself from his

The morning sunlight filtered through the penthouse windows in slow, golden shards. Raven stirred beneath the sheets, the space beside her cold. Jaxon was already up. She could hear faint sounds, muffled footsteps, the hiss of espresso, the rustle of newspapers.She lay still, her nerves pulled tight under her skin.Last night felt like a dream soaked in guilt and pleasure. His touch had been reverent, his body a balm against the guilt that rotted her from the inside, but now, the clarity of morning was brutal. Sharp. Unforgiving.When she finally emerged, Jaxon was at the kitchen island, sleeves rolled, black coffee in hand. He didn’t look up when she padded in barefoot.“You sleep?” he asked.She swallowed. “Some.”He finally glanced at her. Not smiling. Not scowling. Just… watching.Then he said, “You forgot to reset the thermal imprint.”The words dropped like ice in her stomach.“What?”“The safe.” He turned the coffee mug slowly between his hands. “The scanner logs the last heat