Page 89 of Money Reigns

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She stops. Starts again. Fingers running through her hair, tugging at the collar of her blouse like it’s suffocating her.

Good.

Let it drown her.

That’s how she’ll rise, with my name in her mouth and my rules in her blood.

Her throat bobs. Her fingers fall away. She stares like she’s looking at something indecent, like desire itself snuck in and dared her to touch it.

Because this is what surrender looks like, even if her brain hasn’t caught up yet.

The knock on her office door makes her jump.

She straightens and take a breath before opening the door to reveal Angelique, my personal stylist, expression crisp and pleasant as always, flanked by two interns dragging in tall rolling wardrobes

Olivia freezes.

Angelique smiles. “Mr. Beaumont wanted to ensure you had everything you need for your new role. You’re welcome to pick anything from the collection. We’ll have your selections delivered to your apartment by this evening.”

Olivia’s jaw drops.

She stares at the wardrobe like it might bite her.

My chuckle is low and private.

I lean back in my chair and watch her approach the rack slowly, fingers brushing over silks and cashmeres and pressed Italian collars. Her touch is hesitant, reverent.

She mouths something to herself.

Looks around the room like someone’s playing a joke on her.

But no.

This is real.

Shedeservesthis.

I’ve never loved my money more than I do in this moment.

Then Angelique slides the last panel to reveal the final collection—delicate lingerie in blacks, creams, blood reds. Lace. Straps.My taste.Hand-picked. Made forher.

Olivia freezes.

Completely still.

Not breathing.

Then, without a word, she turns and walks out.

I turn off the feed.

I don’t need to check the hallway camera. I already know where she’s going.

I steel myself.

Fold my hands on the desk.

And wait.

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