Damien Blackwood stood in the middle of the penthouse living room, phone gripped so tight in his hand the screen edge dug into his palm like it wanted to cut him.
The photo glowed up at him Lila spread across his desk, her head thrown back, his body moving over hers, her lips parted in that way that always made his chest cave in.
He stared at the message underneath.
"He doesn't deserve you."
His thumb hovered over the screen, then he swiped the photo away fast, like if he looked one second longer he might put his fist through the glass wall overlooking the city.
Lila stepped out of the shower behind him, towel wrapped around her body, dark hair dripping down her bare shoulders in wet strands that clung to her skin.
"Damien?" she asked, voice soft, walking closer. "You've been standing there staring at your phone for five minutes straight. Talk to me."
He turned, jaw locked so tight it ached, and shoved the phone into his pocket. "Come here," he said, reaching out, fingers closing around her wrist, tugging her against his chest. "Right now. Just… come here."
Lila let the towel drop between them, pressing her damp body to his dress shirt. "You're shaking," she whispered, hands sliding up to cup his face. "Tell me what's going on. Please. I can feel your heart hammering."
He exhaled hard through his nose, forehead dropping to hers. "That text you got earlier? The photo? I saw it too. Same number. Same picture of us on my desk." His thumbs stroked her cheeks, rough and slow. "Someone took that picture today. While I was inside you. While you were saying my name like you always do."
Lila's fingers tightened on his jaw. "Then what are we going to do about it?"
"We're not doing anything," he answered, voice dropping low. He walked her backward until her back met the cool glass of the window, city lights sparkling behind her. "You're going to let me handle it. You're going to stay quiet and let me protect what's mine. Because you are mine, Lila Chen. My wife. My secret. My everything."
She shivered against the glass, hands fisting in his shirt. "You're getting that look again. The one where you think you can fix everything by yourself. Talk to me, Damien. Don't shut me out."
He leaned in, mouth brushing her ear. "I'm not shutting you out. I'm keeping you safe." His hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips, lifting her so her legs wrapped around his waist. "And right now the only thing I need is to remind you exactly who you belong to."
Lila gasped as he pressed her harder against the window, cool glass on her back, his heat everywhere else. "Damien… the windows… someone could see "
"Let them," he growled, mouth on her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. "Let the whole damn city watch me love my wife the way she deserves."
She moaned, head tipping back against the glass, fingers threading through his dark hair and tugging. "Then stop talking and show me. Show me I'm yours. Show me no stupid text changes anything between us."
He carried her to the bedroom without another word, kicked the door shut behind them, and laid her down on the bed like she was something precious and breakable at the same time.
"Say it," he said, stripping his shirt off, eyes locked on hers as he crawled over her. "Tell me you're still my wife even when the world tries to look."
Lila reached up, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertip, then down his chest. "I'm your wife," she breathed, legs parting so he could settle between them. "I've been your wife for three years of locked doors and stolen kisses and late nights where you make me forget my own name. Nothing changes that. Not one photo. Not one text."
Damien groaned, mouth crashing down on hers, kissing her deep and messy, tongue sliding against hers while his hands pinned her wrists above her head. "Again," he muttered against her lips. "Say it again while I'm inside you."
He pushed into her slow at first, then harder, hips rolling in that rhythm he knew drove her crazy. Lila arched beneath him, crying out his name, nails digging into his back.
"Yours," she gasped, meeting every thrust. "I'm yours, Damien Blackwood. My husband. My boss. The only man who's ever made me feel like this."
He released her wrists, hands sliding down to grip her thighs, spreading her wider. "That's right. My perfect assistant out there… my filthy little wife in here." His pace quickened, rougher now, the bed creaking under them. "Tell me you love it when I take you like this. Tell me you need it."
Lila's hands clutched his shoulders, heels digging into his lower back. "I love it," she panted, voice breaking on every word. "I need it. I need you rough tonight. I need you to remind me who I belong to. Harder, Damien please "
He gave her exactly what she asked for, thrusting deep and fast, mouth on her throat, sucking another mark into her skin. "You're mine," he growled between kisses. "Mine to love. Mine to fuck. Mine to protect. Say it back to me, baby. Say it while you come."
Lila shattered around him, body tightening, back bowing off the bed, his name falling from her lips over and over like a chant. Damien followed right after, burying himself deep, groaning her name against her neck as he came.
They stayed locked together, breathing hard, sweat slick between them.
He rolled to the side, pulling her against his chest, fingers stroking through her damp hair. "I love you," he whispered, pressing kisses to her forehead, her closed eyelids, the tip of her nose. "I love you so much it makes me crazy sometimes. That's why I need you to trust me on this. Let me handle the texts. Let me keep you safe."
Lila traced lazy circles on his chest with her fingertip. "I do trust you. I just… I hate that someone saw us. I hate that our private moments aren't private anymore."
He caught her hand, brought it to his mouth, kissed her palm. "They're still ours. No one gets to take that from us. Not ever."
She smiled against his skin, then shifted, straddling him again, hands braced on his chest. "Then prove it one more time before we sleep. Slow this time. Like you mean it."
Damien's hands settled on her hips, guiding her down onto him. "Like this?" he asked, voice rough as they moved together, slow and deep.
"Exactly like that," she moaned, head falling back, long dark hair spilling over her shoulders. "Don't stop talking to me. Tell me everything you're thinking while you're inside me."
"I'm thinking you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said, sitting up so he could kiss her chest, her throat, her mouth. "I'm thinking I'd burn the whole company down if it meant keeping you. I'm thinking I want to wake up every morning for the rest of my life and know you're mine."
Lila rocked against him, hands cupping his face. "I want that too. I want to stop hiding one day. I want to walk into board meetings holding your hand instead of pretending I'm just your assistant."
He flipped them suddenly, pinning her beneath him again, hips moving slow and deliberate. "Soon," he promised, kissing her deep. "I swear it. But until then… this is ours. These nights. These moments. You screaming my name when no one else can hear."
They made love like that for a long time slow, messy, whispering promises between every kiss, every touch, every thrust until they finally collapsed together, tangled and exhausted and still connected.
Damien pulled the sheet over them, arm wrapped tight around her waist. "Sleep, baby. I've got you."
Lila curled into his side, pressing one last kiss to his chest. "Love you," she murmured, eyes already drifting shut.
"Love you more," he whispered back, fingers stroking her back until her breathing evened out.
The next morning sunlight poured through the penthouse windows.
Damien kissed Lila goodbye at the private elevator, hand lingering on her cheek. "Be careful today. And remember, let me handle it."
She nodded, kissed his palm, then stepped into the elevator with a small smile.
By the time she reached her desk on the executive floor, the office was already buzzing with the usual Monday energy.
She had just sat down and opened her laptop when a familiar voice cut through the quiet hum.
Victor Blackwood strolled up, charming half-smile in place, two coffees in his hands. He was the kind of man who always looked like he'd just stepped out of a magazine with slightly softer features than Damien, easy laugh, perfectly styled hair that never seemed out of place.
He set one coffee in front of her with a flourish.
"You look like you had a long night," Victor s
aid with a smile, leaning one hip against her desk. "Everything okay, Lila?"