TERMS OF OBEDIENCE
Ava couldn’t remember leaving. Not a clue. One minute, Leon’s hand was on her throat, his mouth feeding her sins she’d never even dared to name—and snap, she’s in the elevator, knees wobbling, coat wrapped like armor around her shivering frame. He hadn’t taken her, not officially. Which, let’s be real, was almost crueler.
He’d claimed her. No signature required. Just… took something invisible.
So she spent the morning pacing her apartment, contract burning a hole in her pocket. Not just ink and paper anymore. No, now it felt like a brand. A tether. A secret she couldn’t decide if she wanted to flaunt or bury under floorboards.
By 8:00 a.m. sharp, she was stomping back into Blackwell Tower, heels on marble, not a single hair out of place. She dared anyone to try and look through her.
Leon? Already in his office, throne behind the desk, that CEO mask on so tight it was practically a second skin.
But when their eyes crashed together, the room just… tilted. Gravity changed.
“You came back,” he tossed out, casual as you please.
“I work here now.” She tried for flat and got shaky steel.
Leon’s laugh, low and dangerous, curled around her. “No, darling. You exist here now.”
She didn’t answer. What could she even call herself at this point? Not an employee. Not exactly a mistress. Certainly not a slave. Something else. Something sharp.
“You’ll shadow me today,” he said, rising like a storm cloud. “Take notes. Keep quiet. Smile when it helps. But mostly… learn.”
He circled his desk, slow as a predator.
“And if I don’t?”
His eyes did a lazy drag down her body, setting her skin alight. “Then I’ll teach you.”
He stopped right in front of her, not touching. Yet. “You wore nothing under that dress this morning. For me, wasn’t it?”
Ava’s face lit up like a warning sign.
His voice dropped, silk over steel. “You really think I missed that? This isn’t a game. Your choices ended the second you signed.”
He let a finger trail right down the middle of her blouse. She shivered, traitorously.
“Tell me, Ava… are you wet for me already?”
She glared, fire and defiance. “You’re disgusting.”
He just smiled, slow and dark. “And yet… you’re still here. So, are you?”
Her mouth opened, then snapped shut.
He leaned in, breath hot against her ear. “Want me to check?”
She almost said yes. Swallowed it. Whispered, “What do you want from me?”
Leon stepped back, eyes glacier-cool but a storm brewing underneath. “Everything.”
He tossed a folder at her. “Names. Memorize them. Today at noon, you’re with me. Special guest, so mind your manners. Sit at my right. Don’t speak unless I say. Laugh when I touch you.”
She clutched the folder, knuckles white. “And if I screw up?”
He leaned in again, voice a velvet blade. “Then I’ll bend you over the car seat on the way back. Remind you who you belong to.”
Her heart hammered.
He stepped back, satisfied.
Ava blinked, trying to find some ground. “Who are we meeting?”
“Someone who needs to know that I control what’s mine.”
The words scraped her throat raw.
“But I’m not yours.”
He closed the space between them. One hand in her hair, tugged her head back, forced her to look at him.
“In this building,” he said, “I own the air you breathe. The clothes you wear, the meals you eat. And if I tell you to sit there like my favorite toy while I negotiate with devils, then you’ll smile and cross your legs like a good girl. Clear enough?”
She glared, every cell in her body screaming for rebellion. Signing a contract wasn’t the same as selling your soul.
Then he kissed her.
Nothing sweet about it. All teeth and heat, a claiming, bruising, impossible kiss that left her gasping. His tongue, his grip in her hair. When he pulled away, her lips were throbbing and her legs barely remembered how to stand.
“You’re wet now,” he whispered, lips brushing hers.
And just like that, he let her go. Turned away. Adjusted his cuffs, like she was just another morning meeting.
“Wear black. Tight. And again… nothing underneath. You looked perfect this morning. Like something bought.”
He turned his back, finished with her.
But Ava? No, she was just starting to realize what kind of storm she’d wandered into with Leon Blackwell.
Possession.
Something inside her screamed—Leon Blackwell was nowhere near done showing her just how deep that word could cut.
__
Lunch time came faster than Ava preferred.
That car ride? Unbearably quiet. Like, you could hear your own heartbeat and maybe even your wild thoughts if you listened hard enough.
Ava was right there, squeezed up next to Leon in the back of that sleek, blacked-out, “I’m richer than you” car. Her dress? Way too short for decency. Underneath? Absolutely nothing. Every little bump in the road just kept reminding her—yep, she was one shift away from flashing the world.
Leon didn’t bother breaking the silence.
His hand? Oh, it was there. Not quite touching her thigh, but close enough to make her skin prickle. Close enough that every time his pinky grazed her, Ava practically forgot how to breathe. Was he doing this on purpose? Hell if she knew. Maybe both. Probably both.
Finally, she couldn’t take it. “So, what are we walking into?” she asked, just to fill the space with anything but her own throbbing nerves.
Leon didn’t even look at her. “A test. One you can’t screw up.”
She shot him a look. “You said someone had to believe you’re running the show.”
He corrected her, voice low and firm. “Not believe. Know.”
Then he finally turned those midnight eyes on her. “You’ll sit at my side. You’ll smile when I touch you. You’ll keep quiet, no matter where my hand goes. And if you twitch, whimper, or even breathe too loud? I’ll punish you before dinner.”
Ava’s breath caught, stuck somewhere in her chest.
He dropped his gaze to her mouth. “Clear?”
She nodded like her life depended on it.
He wasn’t having it. “Words, Ava.”
“Yes, Mr. Blackwell.”
That earned her a ghost of a smile. His hand shifted—slow, casual—until his palm landed right on her bare thigh. Warm skin, real contact. She tensed up, but didn’t dare move.
Leon’s chuckle was low, almost smug. “You’re catching on.”
The restaurant was pure money. Sleek, shadowy, mirrors everywhere, like a Bond villain’s lair. The hostess? Didn’t blink, just whisked them back to a private room with zero fuss.
Their guest was waiting already. Silver hair. Pinstripe suit. Eyes that could freeze vodka. The vibe? Guy who probably traded countries for fun.
“Mr. Blackwell,” the man said, and then his gaze slid to Ava. “And this must be the new acquisition.”
Ava stiffened, fighting the urge to shrink down to nothing.
Leon’s hand pressed gently at her back, nudging her forward. “Ava Sinclair. She follows orders.”
The man gave her a once-over—quick, cold, dismissive.
She swallowed, forcing herself to sit tall.
They took their seats. Leon at the head, Ava right beside him, exactly where he wanted her. The other man poured himself wine, didn’t offer. Rude as hell.
“Your name was all over the Rossi negotiation,” he said, sipping like this was some kind of performance. “They’re spooked.”
Leon’s smile was slow and sharp. “That’s the point.”
“And this?” The man nodded at Ava. “A message?”
Leon’s hand vanished under the table.
Ava snapped straight, but didn’t move away.
“Yes,” Leon replied, ice-cool. “She’s mine. Every inch. Untouchable.”
Ava bit her lip so hard she almost tasted blood, Leon’s fingers tracing her inner thigh—slow, deliberate, calculated. Her whole body was a live wire.
He stopped just before the point of no return. Just hovered there. A warning and a promise rolled into one.
“Beautiful,” the man said, almost bored. “But risky. You’re exposing a weakness.”
Leon didn’t flinch. “Power isn’t always about hiding your cards. Sometimes it’s about showing the world what you own.”
After that, they dove into business talk—contracts, leverage, some merger Ava couldn’t even follow. She barely heard any of it anyway. Leon’s hand stayed right there, thumb moving in maddening little circles. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, praying she wouldn’t make a sound.
She made it. Barely.
When lunch wrapped, her legs felt like jelly and her skin was on fire.
Leon stood, smoothed his cuffs, and looked down at her with a darkness in his eyes that made her shiver.
She’d survived round one.
But she knew—this was just the opening act. Leon clearly liked to play his games in public. This was about obedience, sure, but also about showing off. And she wasn’t sure yet if the thrill of it all would break her… or if she already wanted more.