The Heir’s MaskSteve’s penthouse felt like a gilded cage tonight. The city lights stretched out beneath him like jewels on black velvet, but all he could see was Ken’s flushed face from the restaurant earlier—lips parted, cock straining against his trousers, eyes screaming yes while his mouth spat no.Should I call him? No. I need him to submit to me. No matter how long it takes, I will get you, baby.His phone buzzed again. Another message from Ken.Ken: I’m blocking you after this. Do not contact me.Steve chuckled lowly, palming his heavy cock through his slacks. “Try it, baby. See how far that gets you.”The elevator dinged. Eleanor Vanderbilt swept in like a queen. At fifty-eight, with her impeccable silver-streaked hair and a presence that could make billionaires flinch, she commanded the room instantly. She took one look at her son and sighed.“Steven. You rejected Camille Harrington again. The girl is perfect—old money, discreet, and fertile. Exactly what this family needs to
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