Chapter 1: The Contract

The city sparkled below like a spilled bag of diamonds, restless and hungry. From the rooftop of the most exclusive restaurant in Manhattan, Savannah Reed sat frozen across from the most powerful man she'd ever met. Her fingers clutched the edge of the marble table, the wine in her glass untouched.

Damien Knight reclined in his seat like a king surveying a kingdom he already owned. Sharp black suit. Matching black eyes. Hair neatly styled, yet tousled just enough to suggest dominance with effortlessness. His presence was dangerous—like a knife polished to beauty.

Between them sat a slim black envelope. It rested on the table like a silent promise, or a trap.

Savannah swallowed. “So this is what you do? You buy people?”

His mouth twitched. Not a smile—never a smile. Just a knowing tilt. “No. I invest. There’s a difference.”

“I’m not an investment.”

“Oh, but you are.”

He said it like he already owned her. She hated how that stirred something hot and twisted in her gut.

“Why me?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Damien leaned forward. The soft glow of the city caught the edge of his cheekbone, casting the other half of his face in shadow. “You’re beautiful, yes. But more than that—” His eyes slid over her like a velvet blade. “You have fight in you. And that’s what I crave.”

Savannah’s throat tightened. She had felt it the first time they met—two weeks ago when she spilled coffee on his thousand-dollar shoes during her second job as a part-time waitress. Instead of being furious, he asked for her name. Then her number. Then nothing for a week. Until tonight.

“I’m not a toy,” she said.

“I know. That’s what makes this interesting.”

She stared down at the envelope.

The terms were clear:

$50,000 per month.

A penthouse in Tribeca.

Full protection and access to his world.

No emotional attachment. No dating anyone else.

Complete discretion.

And one rule: You belong to Damien Knight.

“I don’t sleep with strangers for money,” she whispered.

Damien’s voice was low. “We’ll get to know each other. Intimately.”

Savannah flinched.

He leaned closer, and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her. “You have debts,” he murmured. “Your brother’s school is six months behind. You’re working two jobs. And I’ve already paid off your landlord.”

Her head snapped up. “You did what?!”

“I take care of what’s mine.”

“I haven’t signed anything yet!”

His lips finally curled into a proper smirk. “But you will.”

Savannah stood abruptly, her chair scraping. Her heels clicked against the marble as she turned to leave—but he caught her wrist with swift, shocking gentleness.

“Savannah,” he said quietly. “If you walk away, the offer disappears. Forever.”

Their eyes locked. His grip was warm, but not painful. Possessive. Commanding. She hated how her body reacted—heart racing, thighs tensing, a low ache blooming inside her that had nothing to do with anger.

He wasn’t seducing her. He was claiming her.

And part of her wanted to be claimed.

She yanked her wrist free and stormed toward the elevator.

—

The city outside was still alive, but Savannah’s body hummed with something darker.

Back in her tiny apartment, she watched her brother Jayden sleeping on the couch, surrounded by books and empty ramen cups. He didn’t deserve this life. Neither did she. But what other way out was there?

She opened her email. The contract had already arrived.

She stared at it for twenty minutes.

Then she typed her name.

Savannah Reed.

---

Three days later, a sleek black car pulled up outside her building.

The driver nodded. “Mr. Knight is expecting you.”

She climbed in with nothing but a small duffel bag and her pride bundled tightly in her chest.

The penthouse was a dream. All glass walls and marble floors, suspended high above the chaos of the city. When she stepped inside, Damien was already waiting. No suit this time. Just a black dress shirt with the top buttons undone, sleeves rolled, bare feet.

She’d never seen anything so unfairly beautiful.

“You’re late,” he said.

“I wasn’t aware there was a schedule.”

“There is now.” He approached her slowly, eyes fixed. “Do you understand what you’ve agreed to?”

Savannah nodded. Her voice came out hoarse. “Yes.”

“Good.” He stepped even closer, until they were a breath apart. “You will eat when I say. Dress how I like. You will not entertain other men. And when I touch you—” his fingers ghosted up her bare arm, raising goosebumps— “you will not pull away.”

Her breath caught.

Damien brushed a strand of hair from her face. “But I won’t force you. Say no, and I stop. Say ‘red,’ and I leave you alone.”

It was sick how much that turned her on.

“I won’t say no,” she whispered.

“Good girl.”

The words hit her like a match to gasoline.

He backed her toward the wall slowly, never breaking eye contact. When her spine pressed against the cool glass, he placed his hand beside her head.

His lips hovered just over hers. “This isn’t about sex, Savannah. It’s about power.”

“Yours?”

“And yours. You don’t even realize how much of it you have over me already.”

She shivered.

Then he kissed her—not soft, not gentle. A claiming. His lips demanded, devoured. Her hands clutched his shirt before she realized they were moving, and suddenly he had her pinned, leg wrapped around his thigh, mouth teasing hers apart like a slow burn.

His voice dropped to a growl. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

She moaned, barely recognizing herself.

Damien pulled back just enough to whisper, “This is mine now. Every part of you.”

And somehow, she didn’t want to escape it.

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