Page 87 of The CEO

“Why are we here?” she asks as we enter the circular chamber, its obsidian walls gleaming in the subdued lighting.

I don’t answer immediately, instead moving to take my seat upon the raised base. The throne feels different beneath me now—not a symbol of isolation, but a stage for what comes next.

“Come stand before me,” I instruct, my tone shifting. Eve hesitates only briefly before complying, moving to stand at the foot of the dais. Her eyes never leave mine, defiant even in compliance.

“What is your decision, Eve?” I ask again, wanting to hear the words in this sacred space.

“I’m staying,” she replies, her voice steady despite the tension radiating between us. “With you.”

“Do you truly understand what this means? That this is a binding decision you are making with your soul? I will own you completely. Your body, your soul, your mind. There is nothing about you I won’t know. There is nothing in this world or the next that will ever be allowed to harm you.”

She nods.

“Audible, Eve.”

“Yes.”

“Are you mine?” The question emerges as a low growl.

“Yes.”

“Body, soul, and mind?” I press further, needing her to understand the totality of what I’m asking.

She draws a deep breath, her eyes never wavering. “Yes.”

I lean forward slightly, lust radiating from every line of my body. “Kneel.”

For the first time, genuine hesitation crosses her features. She remains standing, challenge flickering in her gaze.

“I won’t say it again.” The edge returns to my voice, The CEO of The Shadows emerging fully now. The man who expects absolute obedience.

Slowly, deliberately, Eve sinks to her knees before the dais, her eyes still locked with mine. The sight of her willingly submitting to my authority sends heat coursing through me.

“No other man will ever touch you again, do you understand me? Your body is mine to do with as I please, when I please.”

“Yes.”

“Come to me,” I command softly.

She begins to rise, but I raise a hand to stop her. “No.” Confusion passes over her face again. “Down.” I point.

The request hangs between us—a test of boundaries, of trust, of her willingness to surrender control. For a moment, I think she might refuse, might draw the line here. Then, maintaining eye contact, she drops back down to the floor and begins to move forward on hands and knees, closing the distance between us with deliberate slowness.

When she reaches the foot of my throne, I lean down, fingers gently lifting her chin. “Look at you,” I murmur in satisfaction. “Such a good, obedient girl. Are you ready to worship me?”

A spark of defiance flashes in her eyes. “Worship the devil?”

I lower my voice, my thumb brushing across her lower lip. “I might be the devil, baby, but we both know I’m your god.”

My finger traces the curve of her lip, and without warning, she bites down—not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make me hiss in surprise and arousal.

“Careful,” I warn, the word carrying both a threat and a promise.

I reach for my belt, maintaining my grip on her chin. Her eyes widen slightly as she realizes my intentions, but there’s only dark anticipation that mirrors my own.

“I want you to show me how much you want this,” I say, my voice dropping to a dangerous register. “How much you want me.”

My cock is already hard, begging to be freed. I wrap my hands around my shaft, pumping my fist up and down once. She licks her lips, watching my movements.

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