As I moved towards the sound, another door slipped open to my left. I pivoted to walk through it. Tristan, it seemed, was protected behind more layers than all the gold in Fort Knox.

My heart in my throat, I marched into his office. Another enormous room, one that looked larger than our entire apartment.

Tristan was sitting behind his desk, a beautiful antique work of art. He was dressed in a gunmetal grey suit and a white shirt, which was open at the collar. The moment I stepped in, he rose to his feet, made his way towards me and stopped just three or so feet away, hands at his sides.

“No touching,” he said, as though reminding himself of our rule. “Hello, Ariana.”

“Hi,” I said stupidly, unsure what to do with myself. For some reason his professional demeanor was throwing me for a loop. I should have been pleased. No touching meant no sex, which was supposed to be a good thing. Sex with him would have been like taking a dozen hits of heroin and telling myself I wouldn’t become a junkie. It would have put me over the edge, thrown me into a world I couldn’t entirely handle.

Maybe Marcus had been right. This world, the world in which I was now standing, might just eat me alive. I knew how terrifying a thought that was. Yet I couldn’t help but want it more than I’d wanted almost anything in my life.

“Come, sit,” Tristan told me, gesturing to a black leather chair. I seated myself and he leaned back against the desk, twisting one leg in front of the other, his arms crossed over his chest. His jacket was undone, and I had to do everything in my power not to eye him up and down, to survey the slight dips and valleys of his perfect torso, to assess the bulge in his all-too-well-fitting pants.

“You said something about lunch,” I muttered. “I hope it’s okay that I came.”

“Yes, of course,” he replied, “of course it is. I’m very glad you came. I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.”

I looked up into his eyes, which were narrowed, focused on my own like I was the very meal he was looking to consume. Maybe he was going to fulfill my wildest desires and devour me after all.

“Do you want to go out, or….?” I said, feeling wretchedly uncomfortable. As if I wanted food right now. I wouldn’t have been able to keep it down, not with the swarm of angry butterflies that was residing inside my stomach at the moment.

“What do you want, Ariana?” he asked. He didn’t move. Didn’t give me any hint as to what he was thinking, other than the alluring, enticing look in his eye.

I want you, I thought. That’s what I want, as if you don’t already know it.

“A sandwich?” I blurted out, letting out a nervous laugh.

“I’ll order something, then. Meanwhile, I’ve got the paperwork we spoke about,” he said, gesturing to a pile of white sheets behind him. “You wanted to get to know me a little before committing to working for my theater, remember?”

“How could I forget?” I asked, my eyes landing on the contract.

But he didn’t hand me the sheets. He just stared at me.

Apparently he was enjoying torturing me.

“You’re making me nervous,” I told him, yanking my chin down and looking at my hands, which were tangling together in my lap. “No one makes me nervous usually, but you’re doing it.”

“My apologies, Ariana. Tell me how to put you at ease.”

I pulled my chin up and looked him in the eye again, determined to confront his allure head-on. “You want to put me at ease? Okay, then tell me why I’m really here.”

“I don’t think that’ll put you at ease,” he said. “It may have the opposite effect, in fact. Are you sure it’s what you’d like?”

I nodded slowly. I needed to know.

“I want what I wanted yesterday, and the night before that. I want you.”

A sphere of excitement burst in my chest, my heart slamming out beats like the bass in a nightclub. “For how long?” I asked, trying to sound strong rather than terrified.

He let out a laugh—the first real laugh I’d ever heard out of him. “Are you asking about my endurance?” he replied, “because I can go for quite a long time, though I suspect that if you took me in that beautiful mouth of yours and sucked me off, I’d come hard and fast.”

Fuck me. That image was almost enough to make me come.

“You know what I mean,” I said. “Are you looking for a fling with me? Because I don’t think I could do that with a man I’m going to work for…”

“I see. No flings, then. But let me ask you something else: would you work for a man with whom you had a serious, committed relationship?” he asked, moving towards me. He nudged my knees apart with his calves, slipping himself between them so that his legs pressed against the swath of silk that covered them. He was so close now that I could feel his heat on the insides of my thighs.

“I’m not sure,” I said.

“Interesting,” he said, leaning forward. His palms pressed into my knees, pushing upwards, my skirt going with them. No touching had just become something entirely different. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, staring down at my legs. “We had a deal. Well, I have a new proposition for you.”

“Oh?” I asked weakly.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, “and I’ll stop.”

I should have, I supposed. But instead, I kept my lips sealed, unwilling or unable to utter the words. My willpower was gone. All I knew was desire, and it was destroying my ability to think rationally.

“I don’t want you to stop,” I said, my throat dry with arousal.

He slipped a hand under my skirt, onto the inside of my left thigh, his fingers moving slowly upwards until they found the sensitive place between my legs. “Would you be willing to let me taste your sweet pussy, Ariana? Would you be open to the experience of my tongue inside you?” With that, he tucked his fingertip between my panties and my opening, edging it along it until he found my clit. He stopped there, pressing so, so gently into me, as if he knew exactly how to make me crazy with lust.

I was dying. No, I was dead. This was the end of me. My body was all tightness and agony, unable or unwilling to relax. I felt like I would explode if I didn’t find some form of release.

“I’ve never even kissed you,” I told him, my voice strained.

“Kissing is intimate,” he replied softly.

“So is your tongue between my legs—not to mention that finger of yours.”

“True. But it’s less easy to fall in love with a man who eats you than a man who kisses you.” He pulled his hand away and sucked on the finger that had been caressing me, a move that only served to destroy me all over again.

“You’re worried that I’ll fall in love with you, are you?” I asked, crossing my arms in defiance. My voice was all but useless, driven mad with desire, but I still wasn’t willing to succumb entirely. “If that’s your main concern, it’s very arrogant of you, Mr. Wolfe.”

“I see. So you don’t want a casual fling, yet you’re not concerned about falling in love,” he said. “So what’s the issue? Why do you resist your desire? Don’t tell me you’re not attracted to me, because much as your lips might lie, your body has already told me the truth of the matter.”

My cheeks heated at his words. He was right, of course, but it infuriated me to hear him say it.

“Of course I’m attracted to you. But are you seriously telling me that you’re attracted to me, when you have women like that receptionist out there working for you? She looks like she just stepped off a catwalk in Paris or Milan. Why would you be interested in someone like me when you have women like that around?”

Tristan pulled back and leaned against his desk once again, an amused grin reminding me how sexy his mouth was. “Kara is an interesting woman indeed,” he said, “more interesting than most people will ever know. She’s my underling, however, and I have no time to entangle myself with underlings.”

“I’m your underling,” I told him, nodding to the contract on his desk. “Especially if I sign that.”

“You will never be my underling,” he said. He grabbed the paperwork and handed it to me.

As I stared at the front page, my eyes widened with shock.

“Deed of Ownership,” I read, “Venezia Theater.”

“That’s right.”

“This isn’t a contract of employment,” I told him, my eyes scanning the page. “It says you’re giving me the theater.”

“As long as you agree to let me cover the cost of renovations,” he said, “with the caveat that I will be in charge of its upkeep, advertising, and production costs. You will run the place from the inside. The thing is, I’ve decided that you’re quite right. It would be foolish of me to get involved with an employee. Therefore I’m making you the boss of this particular venture.”

I choked out a laugh. “I don’t know how to run a theater. I’m a designer.”

“Then we’ll do it together, or I’ll hire help for you.”

I tossed the papers back onto the desk. "What the hell kind of game is this?" I asked, rising to my feet in a flurry of rage mixed with humiliation. "Are you trying to buy me or something? Do you think I’m some kind of whore whose price tag is the theater?”

He shook his head. "Never," he said solemnly. "No man can buy that which is priceless. And you, Ariana, are worth more than all my wealth combined."

His words flattered me. But they weren't enough to quell my mounting anger. "So tell me what you want then," I growled, "so I can get out of here in one piece."

"I've told you. I want your body. I crave it, just as I have from the first." Those eyes, those strange, ethereal blue eyes, were destroying me with their stark honesty. The one thing I could say for Tristan was that he was incapable of lying to me, however erotically charged the truth was. "Stop pretending you don't know how much I want to fuck you, Ariana.”

“Yeah, well, I want you, too,” I snapped angrily. “Is that what you want to hear? It’s true. I want you, but I can't do this. You're insane if you think..." I began, spinning around to face the door that would lead to my freedom. But before I could finish the thought, he reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling himself close just as he'd done on the night we'd met. When his breath caressed my neck, my body went hot, all of my resolve shattered immediately and irreparably.

With every second that passed this man was proving that he had the capacity to control me, and the thought of it chilled me to the bone.

"I'm far from insane," he whispered. "But if you knew me for what I truly am, you might learn to fear me in spite of that fact."

I pulled away just enough to turn and look into his eyes. “You might make me nervous, but I would never fear you," I said, tearing my arm free. "I refuse to fear any man ever again.”

I knew in that moment that the majority of my rage wasn’t directed at Tristan, but at someone else. At a man I’d once been foolish enough to trust. A man who should have been a protector—who should have been looking out for me and for those I loved. Instead, that man had destroyed me. He’d shattered my innocence, but more importantly, he’d shattered the innocence of someone I’d cared about more than anyone else in the world.

In that moment, I tried to tell myself that Tristan wasn’t that man. That I wasn’t a young girl anymore. I was a grown-ass woman, and a strong one, at that. I’d been to Hell and back, and I knew how to survive. Surely to God I could find a way to survive Tristan Wolfe.

Still, I stormed towards the door, hurrying towards my escape. But it didn't slide open as it had when I'd come in. So I stood there, breathing hard, waiting for something—anything—to happen. All I knew was that I didn't want to turn back and face him. That would mean he'd won. It would mean we were playing by his rules.

"Are you trying to imprison me, Tristan?" I asked, my chest heaving with every emotion imaginable.

"No," he said. "Never. If you're certain you want to leave, I'll open the door for you. It's as simple as the flick of a switch. Just say the words, Ariana."

I didn't answer. I wasn't certain, not anymore. All I wanted, in fact, was to be near him. To release all the frustration that had built up in me, to use him as I'd accused him of using me. I wanted to dominate him and to be dominated by him, all at once.

Reading my mind, he slipped up behind me again, pressing himself into my body. All of a sudden I could feel an exquisite erection digging hard into my lower back. His hands were on my waist, pulling me backwards, an impossible surge of heat surrounding me as I reveled in the fog of pure arousal.

I leaned my head back, my breath catching in my throat as he slipped his hands around to my front. In the darkened glass door I watched our reflection, his bright eyes wicked with desire as they caught sight of mine. His fingers played with one of the buttons on my shirt, boldly popping it open.

"Cruel man," I murmured. "You should have opened the door. You should have sent me away when you had the chance."

“I will never want to send you away from me,” he said, threatening to undo another button, “Now tell me—yes? Or no?"

I nodded. "Yes,” I breathed.

"Good."

We were no longer talking about my departure, and we both knew it.

I watched as he slipped my shirt open, his hands sliding expertly inside, his face tucking itself into my neck. He kissed me there once, twice, his tongue tasting the salt on my flesh, fingers finding their way under the lace of my bra, rolling my nipple between their tips. His touch was a torment, a blessing, searing heat and bitter cold, all at once.

My body writhed against his, my need growing by the second.

I let out a slow breath, my eyes locked on the scene playing out in our reflection. In that moment, I felt suddenly beautiful, like Tristan had erased the years of self-doubt and pain that had eroded my insides. For the first time that I could remember, I felt desirable. Sexy, even. Vulnerable as I was under his fingers, wrapped up as I was in the web of erotic need that he'd inflicted on my body and mind.

When he'd unbuttoned my shirt down to the bottom of my ribcage, he slid around in front of me, his lips finding their way to my exposed nipple. He drew it into his mouth, splitting my shirt wide open with his hands, threatening to tear the remaining buttons clean off.

I buried my fingers in his thick brown hair, guiding him, encouraging him to feast on me in any way that he wanted. Sate yourself, I wanted to say. Take everything from me. Then take more, until there's nothing left.

In this moment I am yours, Tristan Wolfe.

He slid onto his knees and raised the hem of my long skirt all the way up to my waist. Kissed me gently through my panties, teasing my sex through all-too-thin lace. Then, in a moment of aggression, he ripped the fabric to the side, pushed my legs apart and buried his tongue inside me. Aggressive, greedy, demanding that I show him how tight I was, how swollen, how in need of his length deep inside me.

"I want to take you hard, Ariana, and someday soon, maybe I will. But first, I'm going to make you come like you've never come for any man.” He murmured against my flesh, the vibrations of his words almost enough to drive me over the edge.

"Yes," I said. "You will."

He swirled his tongue over my bud, his hunger filling the air around us like steam. I delighted in his touch, letting myself go. Determined to give myself to him for a few precious minutes, as though every inhibition I’d ever felt had abandoned me.

He pulled back for a moment, slipping two fingers inside me as he looked up, hunting for my eyes.

“Touch your nipples for me,” he said.

Without a word, I obeyed, pulling my shirt open and drawing my bra’s fabric away from my breasts. I pinched my nipples for him, pulling gently, stroking my fingers over the tips.

“Fuck, Ariana, you don’t know what that does to me,” he said, before drawing his tongue over me again. “You don’t know how much I want to bend you over and drive my cock deep inside you.” Another lick.

“I have some idea what it is to want someone that badly,” I said. “Now keep doing that, Tristan. It’s so good.”

He obeyed, his lips sucking gently on my clit as I let out a long moan. I was so near the edge now, so ready to fall.

I pulled my hands away from my breasts and rammed my fingers into his hair, controlling him, guiding him, rolling my hips under his touch. He moaned with pleasure, all but purring against my sensitive flesh.

“I’m going to come,” I gasped, and then it crashed over me like a tsunami. Pleasure, ecstasy, perfection all hitting me at once. Overwhelmed by the intensity of my orgasm, I let my spent body slip down to the floor, and Tristan moved with me, following me down, his tongue refusing to leave me. He licked my sex until the waves of pleasure subsided, my body settling in a state of quiet euphoria.

“I don’t know how you did that,” I said. “Every part of me is tingling. I think you made my teeth numb.”

“We did it together,” he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he pulled away and shot me a knowing smile. “A collaborative effort.”

“We make a damn fine team, then.”

“Yes, we do. But that was only the beginning, Ariana.”