Jace stormed into the café like he was late to an interview.
The moment he spotted a familiar head of shaggy curls hunched over a coffee cup by the window, he made a beeline and dropped into the seat opposite loud, dramatic, clearly pissed.
"I hate you."
His best friend, Luca, looked up, blinked, and sipped his iced latte like nothing was wrong. "Good morning to you too, drama king."
Jace slapped both palms on the table. "I did it."
"Did what?"
"I told him I'd pay with my body. And he he took it seriously!"
Luca's eyes widened. "Wait what? Damien? The actual mafia boss you owe money to?"
"Yes, Luca. Damien. Moreau. Ring any damn bells?!"
Luca choked on his drink, coughing. "Okay, wait- wait hold the fuck on. I was joking! You were supposed to say that with confidence and then laugh it off! Not actually strip for the guy!"
"I didn't plan to strip!" Jace hissed, sinking lower in his seat. "He told me to. He just… looked at me. Like I was some kind of fucking pet and said, take off your clothes. And I… I did it. Luca. I let him touch me. He-he made me-"
Luca's mouth fell open. "Oh my god."
"And the worst part?" Jace continued, voice dropping to a whisper. "It felt... good. Like, really good. Like my soul left my body and clapped for him."
Luca put a hand over his mouth, somewhere between gasping and laughing. "Jace, no-"
"Yes! I hate him. He's arrogant, controlling, and I think he's planning to collar me like some kinky pet shop freak and I'm losing my mind because I can't stop thinking about being fucked by him.
Luca blinked. "Okay, let's rewind he wants to collar you?"
"He gave me a box, Luca. A black collar. Like I'm his damn dog."
Jace buried his face in his hands.
"I swear to God, if you ever give me advice again, I'll punch your spine out your back."
Luca snorted. "Okay but like… was he good? Like in bed?"
Jace looked up slowly. "Luca, I hope your next blowjob is from a man with shark teeth."
Luca laughed so hard he nearly fell off the chair. "You know, for a guy who 'doesn't like men,' you're awfully emotional about this."
"I don't like men," Jace insisted.
Luca sipped his drink. "Mmhmm. And I don't like carbs. We all lie sometimes."
Jace groaned. "He's gonna break me, Luca. I can feel it. I swear if I go back there, I'm gonna end up calling him daddy and wearing the damn collar."
Luca smirked. "Yeah, you're totally screwed."
"Okay but seriously," Jace muttered, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, "who the hell gives someone a collar as a gift? What is this petco mafia edition?"
Luca snorted beside him as they walked the cracked sidewalk, heels crunching old leaves. "You say that, but I saw the way your ears turned red when you talked about it."
"I was angry."
"You were blushing."
"I was angry-blushing."
They passed a closed barber shop, the flickering sign buzzing above them like a warning. Jace kicked at a loose rock on the ground, heart racing even though he was trying to act chill.
"I don't get it, Lu. Like… I'm not into guys. I've never been into guys. And now, one night with that smug bastard and I" He stopped, hand gesturing in the air. "I wake up feeling like I need a goddamn cigarette and therapy."
Luca raised a brow. "But did it feel forced?"
Jace paused.
"No," he admitted quietly. "It didn't. That's what's screwing me up. It felt good. Like, crazy good. Like…" He shivered, pulling his jacket tighter. "Like he knew what I needed before I did."
Luca glanced over at him. "So maybe you're just… figuring yourself out." Maybe you gay Jace. He laughed so hard...
"I don't want to figure this out."
"Why?"
"Because i don't like men and again it's Damian, luca. Jace ran a hand through his hair. "Because he's dangerous and rich and powerful and cold and controlling and…"
"And what?"
Jace muttered, "Hot."
Luca grinned. "There it is."
They kept walking, quiet for a beat, the city humming low in the background cars passing, dogs barking, a siren in the far-off dark.
Jace finally asked, "Do you think I'm being used?"
Luca sighed. "Honestly? Yes. But that doesn't mean you're powerless. It just means you need to figure out how much of yourself you're willing to give. Or if you're already giving it without meaning to."
Jace kicked another rock.
"I feel like I already gave too much."
"Then take some of it back," Luca said. "If he wants to own you, make sure you own part of him too."
They turned the corner onto Jace's block. Streetlights flickered above them like tired eyes.
Jace stared at the pavement, voice low. "He told me I had seven days."
"To do what?"
"To admit I'm his whore."
Luca let out a slow breath. "Damn."
Jace stopped at the gate to his building, hand on the rusted metal.
"I don't think I'll last seven days, Lu."
Luca gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Then just don't fall in love."
Jace laughed bitterly. "the f*CK you think I will? He's a man Lu a freaking man and I'm not gay. Jace said feeling so sure and determined.
Okay, Luca said, sitting on Jace's chair, "you need to avoid him."
Jace blinked. "How? He owns me, apparently. Do I just ghost the mafia? Move to Brazil?"
Luca rolled his eyes. "No, dumbass. Just buy yourself some time. Fake sick. Migraine. Fever. Near-death stomach bug. Mafia men don't like germs."
Jace narrowed his eyes. "You really think that'll work on Damien?"
Luca shrugged. "You won't know until you try. The goal is simple delay contact until your head's clear and your d*ck stops missing him."
Jace groaned and leaned against the doorframe. "I swear, Lu, every time I listen to you-"
"Things get spicy."
"Things get chaotic."
Luca grinned. "Exactly. Now go inside, throw some cold water on your face, mess up your hair, and act like you're dying. Just moan dramatically on the floor or something. If he shows up, make it Oscar-worthy."
Jace nodded slowly. "Yeah… okay. Yeah. I can do sick."
"Atta boy."
As Luca walked away down the street, Jace stared after him, muttering, "Just act sick… yeah… sure…"
Twenty minutes later
Damien sat in the back of his black town car, scrolling through a file when his phone buzzed.
From his guard:
"Sir. Emergency. You might want to come now. He's bleeding."
Damien's hand stilled.
"…Bleeding?"
Jace lay sprawled on the floor of the hallway just inside his apartment, shirt stained, blood dripping down the side of his head from a very real cut above his eyebrow. A smashed bottle lay nearby. His breathing was ragged. Shaky.
"Okay. Okay, I think this is believable," he whispered to himself, dizzy as hell. "Definitely looks bad. This'll buy me, like… at least two days…"
A knock slammed the door open.
"What the fuck happened?"
Jace blinked up from the floor and there he was.
Damien. Standing in the doorway, black coat billowing like a villain in a thriller movie, eyes burning.
"Jace-"
"I-I'm sick," Jace stammered. "Fever. Hallucinations. I fell. Definitely not because I smashed a bottle or anything. Haha-"
Damien knelt beside him fast, one hand on Jace's jaw, the other pressing to his forehead.
"You're burning up," he growled. *Why didn't you call?"
"Didn't wanna bother you," Jace mumbled, trying to lean away. "Totally fine. Just gonna, y'know, sleep in this puddle of my own blood for a bit."
Damien didn't answer. He lifted Jace into his arms like he weighed nothing and started walking.
"Wait where are we going?"
"To the hospital ofc"
"I'm not dying!"
Damien looked down at him, face stone-cold. "You will be if you ever try something this stupid again."
The white lights of the emergency room made Jace squint.
He winced as a nurse finished cleaning the cut above his brow, the sting sharper than he expected. Beside him, Damien stood like a statue coat off, sleeves rolled, arms crossed. Watching everything.
Like a man guarding property.
The nurse gave Damien a quick nod. "He'll be fine. We glued the cut. No stitches."
"Leave us," Damien said flatly.
The woman glanced between them, then quickly exited without a word.
Jace shifted on the bed. "You seriously dragged me to the hospital? It's just a scratch."
"You were bleeding all over on the floor alone."
"I'm not a child."
Damien stepped forward, quietly.
"I told you you belonged to me. If anything touches you, it goes through me first."
Jace scoffed. "You mean because you want me as your whole"?
A tense pause.
Then Jace asked the question twisting in his gut.
"How did you even know so fast?"
Damien's jaw ticked. "I always know where you are."
Jace's turned to him."You're tracking me?"
"Don't act surprised. You're mine until that debt is paid. And if you bleed out on some grimy floor before then, I lose my investment."
Damien reached into his coat and pulled out a slim folder.
He dropped it on the hospital bed with a soft thud.
Jace frowned. "What's this?"
"Your official contract."
Jace hesitated before flipping it open. The paper was sleek. Professional. His name typed cleanly at the top. Agreement of Physical Compensation in Exchange for Financial Debt Forgiveness. Detailed clauses. No romantic wording. No soft promises.
Duration of ownership: Until debt is satisfied.
Usage: Sexual, domestic, exclusive.
Termination: Not allowed unless initiated by Damien Moreau.
Jace blinked. "You really put this on paper."
Damien's tone was ice. "I'm a businessman. I don't mix work with feelings."
Jace barked a bitter laugh. "Good. Because I don't like you."
"Perfect," Damien replied. "This is not about liking."
Their eyes locked.
Jace reached for the pen tucked in the folder and clicked it once. The sound echoed between them.
"You want me to sign away my body like it's a piece of property?"
"I already own it," Damien said calmly. "The contract just makes it legal."
Jace stared at the dotted line.
His hands trembled, but not from fear.
From the rage. From the fire burning through his chest. From the confusing ache in his gut every time this bastard looked at him. Was he about to start sleeping with men?
He signed it.
Scribbled his name like it was a war cry.
Then shoved the folder back at Damien. "There. Happy?"
Damien tucked it away, satisfied. "You'll be moved back into my home tomorrow. Under my rules. Under my control."
"Great. Can't wait," Jace muttered.