Chapter 4 Love Me Like a Pet

The gala was all glass and power.

A skyline stretched behind the ballroom, a gleaming cityscape Xander Vale had already conquered by twenty-six. Billionaires in tuxedos, heiresses dripping in couture, CEOs pretending to laugh all circling one another like wolves in velvet.

And right in the middle of it all, Alina Rae stood like a prop someone forgot to pose properly.

She wore a dress that didn't belong to her.

Nude satin. Backless. Cut low enough to shame.

She didn't know how to stand in heels.

Didn't know how to hold the champagne flute they gave her at the door.

Didn't know why Xander had picked this night, this dress, this city.

But then she saw her.

Seraphina.

Dark-haired, red-lipped, all silk and smirk, clinging to the arm of a man almost as rich as Xander and nowhere near as dangerous.

Alina's stomach twisted.

She shouldn't care.

She shouldn't even be here.

Xander didn't say a word as they approached.

Seraphina's eyes flicked over him. Then to Alina.

And narrowed.

"Well," she said, voice like poisoned honey. "This is new."

Xander slid his arm around Alina's waist. "Wife," he said flatly.

Seraphina tilted her head. "She's wearing my dress."

"Looks better on her."

Seraphina's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Still playing dress-up with orphans, are we?"

Alina flinched.

Xander's grip on her waist tightened.

"Tell your boyfriend to enjoy tonight," he said softly. "Because I already own tomorrow."

He turned and walked off, dragging Alina with him before she could even breathe.

They didn't speak until the car.

The ride back to the penthouse was silent.

Except for Xander's breathing.

Rough. Tight.

Like something was cracking behind his ribs.

Alina sat beside him, unsure whether to speak, move, or disappear.

He didn't look at her.

Until they were inside.

Then he snapped.

He pinned her to the bedroom door, mouth hard on hers, hands already yanking the dress down her shoulders.

"You let her talk to you like that?" he growled.

"I didn't "

"You stood there like a goddamn ornament."

"You made me come!"

He paused.

Breath hot against her mouth.

And then he laughed. Cold and bitter.

"You want to blame me, little girl? You want to act like you don't love this?"

His hand slid between her thighs no warning, no care.

She gasped, back arching.

"Already wet," he muttered. "Like you want me to hurt you."

"I don't," she whispered.

But her body betrayed her.

He spun her around.

Bent her over the bed.

Ripped the panties from under her dress.

And slid inside her in one rough thrust.

She cried out half pain, half heat.

He didn't slow.

Didn't ask.

He fucked her like she belonged to him.

Like she owed him something.

His fingers dug into her hips. His teeth grazed her shoulder. His voice was ragged in her ear.

"Say it."

She didn't answer.

"Say you love me."

"I do," she gasped. "I do "

He slammed into her, deep and brutal.

And when he came inside her, it wasn't gentle.

It was a claim.

He pulled out, breath ragged, and stood over her.

Chest rising.

Jaw locked.

Then, softer almost broken:

"Don't ever let her look down on you again."

She looked up at him, flushed and shaking.

And whispered, "I won't."