The second I notice her at the party, the world goes still. Nothing else matters, and I instantly ignore whoever I’m talking to and forget whatever the fuck we’re talking about. Because in one second, there’s suddenly only space in my brain for this perfect angel stepping into the room.

I growl, watching her slink across the floor in that little black dress with those little black fuck-me heels, my cock pulsing to life in my tux pants. I watch her glide to the bar and come away with a glass of champagne, her gingery hair pulled over one shoulder and her sharp blue eyes flickering as she scans the room.

She oozes sweetness and sin, and literally all I can think of as I stand there letting my eyes drink her in is that I want to taste every soft inch of her skin. I want to run my tongue over every line, curve, and crevice, until there’s not a part of her I haven’t claimed and memorized with my mouth. I growl, completely ignoring whoever I’ve been talking to as my cock throbs between my legs. I inhale slowly, as if I could smell her sweet, angelic little cunt from over here, and the thought only makes me harder.

Perfection.

She screams innocence. Actually, in a place like this with the type of guys who work at hedge funds, she screams prey. And it doesn’t take more than a second before the jackals close in. Finance guys are an aggressive lot, and I’ve only hired the hungriest to work for me in this place. But when three of them descend on her, something primal in me roars to the surface.

I’ve spent a lifetime building what I have from scratch, and taking what I want when I want it. And the caveman in me roars at the sight of these lesser men thinking they can even look at her, let alone talk to her. And when one slips a hand over her shoulder, I almost let out a roar, wanting nothing more than to tear his arm off and throw man and limb over the side of the terrace.

I storm towards the jackals, fury etched on my face, when I’m suddenly swarmed by a handful of my trust managers, suddenly deciding that this is the ideal time to come whining to me about some business bullshit. I snarl, catching them off guard as they suddenly step away. They know the look, and they know when they see that fierce, focused drive on my face to stay the fuck away.

I shove past them, but suddenly I come to a stop.

She’s gone.

For a moment, the red rage comes roaring up, but I do see that the three jackals — including the piece of shit I plan on firing immediately who put his arm over her shoulders — are still at the bar.

But my angel isn’t there.

I scan the crowd with cold, piercing eyes, storming through the party without so much as a handshake or a smile back to any that are offered my way. Like I said, there’s only space in my brain for her, and now that I’ve lost her, I can feel the panic boiling up inside of me.

There’s a hand on my arm, and I whirl, snarling until I come face to face with my head of security. He’s stone-faced, but even he has that look of fear in his eyes at having to interrupt me when I’ve got this look.

“What?” I hiss.

But barely a second later, after he’s let me know that one of his men just let “my date for the evening” into my private office, I’m storming away. I shove my way through the crowds to the big curved stairs up to the main offices, taking them two and three at a time and thundering towards my corner office door. I dismiss the man standing guard curtly, and the only reason he’s not being terminated on the spot is that he’s indirectly alerted me to her.

Her, who I don’t know, and I’ve made a point of at least knowing who everyone here tonight is. It’s rare that I open Castle Capital up to anyone but my employees — all of whom have gone through rigorous background checks and are under more surveillance than they know. But tonight’s an exception. Tonight's a necessary lowering of my guard, in “celebration” of my hedge fund merging with Regent Trust.

Merging.

I could laugh. I don’t “merge” with anyone. I conquer. I take over, take control, and take full authority of anything and everything that I choose to. Regent Trust is no difference. Before the ink on the final contract is done, I’ll be gutting their considerable dead weight, taking the valuable assets and people they have, and slicing the rest away.

Tonight, though, is about niceties. Tonight, I schmooze — or at least, the people I pay to schmooze do the schmoozing. But tonight also means a whole bunch of people I don’t fucking know are in my house — in my keep so to speak. My domain consists of the top three floors of this building — my penthouse on the top, the main offices of Castle Capital below it, and the event space, board rooms, and terraces — the less guarded parts of my business — on the floor below that. That’s where the party is supposed to be, but apparently, some people have found their way up here.

Some people like her.

The sound of her little breath catching on those perfect, soft, pink lips as I surprise her has the blood rushing into my cock. It’s a little whimper — so fucking small and innocent sounding, but with just enough desire behind it to make my balls ache for release. I’m barely cognizant of the words I’m saying to her as I stalk towards her, moving until I’ve got her against the wall. I groan, inhaling again and this time I could swear I can smell her soft little pussy.

Her breath catches again, the heat rises in her cheeks, and her lips part just enough for that soft little pink tongue to dart out and wet them. I growl, moving closer and making her moan quietly.

And this time, I know I can smell her.

“You’re either a thief,” I growl under my breath, my palms flat against the wall on either side of her, pinning her there. “Or you're just a bad little girl who decided to go where she doesn’t belong.”

She shivers at my words, a little tremor tingling through her small body. She swallows, her big blue eyes gazing right up at mine.

“And you do know what they say about thieves and bad girls who go looking for trouble, don’t you?”

She shakes her head.

“No, I—”

“They always find it,” I purr, dipping my head down low and letting my breath tease across her neck.

Fuck. I can’t wait to taste her. I can’t wait to make her moan for me, and to beg me for more when I take her as my own. Her skin throbs under my fingers when I grab her wrist, her pulse jumping as I tighten my grip and pull her away from the wall.

“Trust me, little girl,” I growl, knowing it’s taking every single bit of my restraint not to press her against the wall and take her right here. “Trust me when I say you’ve definitely found trouble.”

I doubt she’s actually a thief here to steal some of my art. I am curious why she’s here in my office though, not to mention, who the hell she is. These are all questions I certainly plan on finding the answers to.

I pull her across the office and around my desk.

“Sit,” I growl, pointing to my desk and standing there with my arms crossed over my chest.

She bites her lip, those big blue eyes looking up at me before she crosses her arms over her own chest, like she’s mimicking me.

“Why?”

Something blazes up inside of me. I should be furious at the back-talk. It’s something no sane person who knows me or works for me would ever try. But there’s something about this bratty little sass back from her that ignites a fire inside of me.

She’s younger than I thought she was, looking at her now face-to-face, illuminated by the glow of the city behind me. She’s trying to hide it with those grown up heels and that dress that’s about half an inch shy of being slutty, but there’s a freshness to her that gets my blood pumping even hotter.

“Because I said so,” I growl, my eyes flashing as I take a step towards her. She swallows, her cheeks flushing pink.

She’s already mine, even if she doesn’t know it yet. She’s been mine ever since she stepped into the party downstairs, but stepping into this office — into my lair — has cemented it. And it’s not in an aggressive, angry way — the way I take most things that are mine to take in this world. In fact, being alone with her in this room brings a sort of peace to my mind that I can’t even remember feeling before.

Being with her feels like perfection. Sharing that moment, it’s like suddenly the world just makes more sense — like she was made to be mine. I pull her against me, and when she gasps and falls into me, hands against my chest, I know I was right. I know without hesitation that this angel is mine and only mine. Her lips were made to feel mine against them. Her breath was made for me to steal away. Her body was made to arch against me — to wrap around me and take me inside. And that magnetic power she’s got between her legs was made for my cock — made for taking every inch of me and swallowing every drop of cum I can give her.

It’s just something I know, like it’s been set out by fate. And the way she moans so sweetly as I pull her against me tells me she knows it too.

I kiss her with everything I have, my lips searing hot against hers as I swallow her moans. She resists for one half a second before she’s melting into me — her hands tightening on my tuxedo jacket and her body pressing into me. She whimpers as I pry her lips open with my tongue, demanding entrance and claiming what’s mine.

My hands slide down her body, wrapping around her and pulling her so tight to me that she’d never get away. She moans quietly, her breath catching as I kiss her fiercely, and when my hands slide down to cup that perfect little ass of hers through her dress, she whimpers with need.

My cock lurches as her body writhes against mine, every single cell in my body demanding what it’s owed — demanding it’s prize. Finally, reluctantly, I pull away from the kiss, and the way she just lingers there in that moment another second with her eyes closed captivates something in me.

She opens them, and then she blushes, realizing I’m staring at her. She looks away, like she’s embarrassed, but I move my hand up to cup her chin softly. I tilt her head up until those big blue eyes are locked with mine.

“Do you know who I am, my little burglar?”

She nods, swallowing quickly, her eyes darting over my face.

“You don’t have to be scared, baby girl,” I purr, leaning down and kissing her softly. “Not of me, and not of anything in this world so long as I’m standing. Do you understand?”

She bites her lip, swollen and red from our kiss, but not as swollen as they will be. Her eyes sparkle as I hold them with mine.

“What’s your name, angel?”

She hesitates for a second, and I’m trying to decipher what that means, when she opens her lips.

“Lyra,” she says quietly.

“I’m Damien,” I growl lowly, pulling her close.

“I know,” she whispers.

“Just like you knew about my art collection.”

She blushes again, and she starts to look away when I tilt her head up and lean in close.

“You came for the paintings, angel, but I’ve come for a different work of art.”

She gasps as I push her back gently, until her ass comes again the edge of my desk. I scoop her up, swallowing her moans with my lips as I set her down on the polished wood surface.

“You,” I growl. “Forget the rest of these pieces. You’re the only work of art I want to see tonight, or ever.” She whimpers as I move in again, spreading her legs to either side of my hips as I move against her and claim her lips with mine.

“Show me, baby girl,” I groan softly into her lips. “Show me everything.”