Ishouldn’t have been there.

Not in that house.

Not with him.

But I was.

The leather strap of my purse cut into my shoulder as I stood frozen in the grand marble entryway of the Ashford estate—my heels tapping nervously on the pristine white tile that probably cost more than my entire year’s salary.

I hadn’t seen him in months.

Not since the breakup with Drew.

And God, it had been ugly. Drew had caught me cheating, and in a fit of rage, he’d posted all my texts with that bartender I’d been fooling around with. Humiliating. Public. Messy. A perfect social media scandal. The kind that spreads like wildfire in rich circles. In my defense, I'd only done it because I'd come home and found him in bed with someone I thought was my best friend.

Now I was here.

Invited—well, summoned—by the man who saw it all unfold.

Drew’s father. Grant Ashford.

The door to his study creaked open, and there he was.

A tailored black shirt stretched tight across his broad chest, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing thick, veined muscles. Salt-and-pepper hair framed a jawline sharper than a damn blade. The man was sex and power wrapped up in one terrifying, magnetic package. And when his eyes—icy gray and filled with something dark—landed on me, I forgot how to breathe.

“You’re late, Quinn,” he said. His voice was low and sharp like gravel wrapped in velvet.

“I—traffic,” I muttered, sounding like a scolded child.

He didn’t move from the doorway. Just leaned his big frame against the edge and crossed his arms, letting silence stretch between us like a wire ready to snap.

Finally, he cocked his head. “Come in. We have things to discuss.”

I swallowed hard and followed him into the study. The door shut behind me with a soft click, and I realized we were alone. Completely, utterly alone.

God help me.

I clutched the strap of my purse like a lifeline. “Look, if this is about Drew—”

“It’s not.”

He turned to face me, eyes raking over my body in a way that made my skin tingle. I’d worn a modest black skirt and blouse. Professional. Respectable.

Pointless.

His gaze burned right through it.

“I don’t give a damn about Drew,” he said. “My son is an idiot. I care about the way you disgraced the Ashford name.”

I stiffened. “I didn’t—”

“You did,” he interrupted. “You embarrassed this family. My company. Me.”

There it was.

The real reason I was here.

“What do you want, Grant?” I asked, lifting my chin. “You didn’t call me here just to lecture me.”

His lips twitched at the corners. Not quite a smile. More like a warning.

“No. I didn’t.”

He walked to his desk and pulled open a drawer, tossing a glossy folder on the surface. It slid toward me with a soft thud.

I stepped forward and flipped it open. My stomach dropped.

Photos. Screenshots. Messages.

Stuff even I didn’t know still existed.

And then… the last page.

A series of transactions.

Money.

“Wh—what is this?” I asked, my voice shaky.

“You were extorting Drew. Manipulating him for cash while you fucked someone else,” he said casually. “That’s fraud, Quinn. Wire fraud. I could bury you in court.”

“No—I didn’t—” I reached for the folder, but he was already on me.

Fast. Silent.

His body pinned mine against the edge of the desk, one hand gripping my wrist, the other sliding the folder away.

“Don’t lie to me,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

My heart pounded. He was so close I could smell his cologne—rich, masculine, sinful.

I tried to pull away, but he only leaned in closer.

“You’re in a very delicate position,” he said, eyes locked to mine. “Lucky for you, I’m offering an alternative to prison.”

I hated how my body reacted to his voice. To the heat of him pressing against me. My thighs clenched, and shame bloomed low in my stomach.

“What kind of… alternative?” I asked, hating the tremble in my voice.

He smirked then. And I swear, it was the sexiest, most terrifying thing I’d ever seen.

“You work for me now,” he said. “No salary. No title. No days off.”

My mouth went dry.

“Doing what?” I whispered.

His eyes dropped to my lips.

“Whatever I want.”

The air snapped with tension. My breath hitched as he reached up, brushing his thumb across my mouth.

“You’re mine now, Quinn. You ruined my family’s reputation. You broke my son. And now…” His voice dropped lower. “Now you’ll pay me back. With your body. Your obedience. Your silence.”

I should have run. Should have screamed, fought, something.

But instead?

I felt myself getting wet.

And he saw it. The way his lips curled told me he knew.

“I’ll give you one chance to walk out,” he murmured. “But if you stay…”

He pressed his lips to my ear.

“I’ll make you my filthy little secret.”

My knees nearly buckled.

I didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

So he stepped back, slowly, and went to sit behind his desk like nothing had happened.

“Take off your blouse,” he said without looking up. “Let’s start with something simple.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I reached for the buttons.

And so it began.

My descent into the twisted world of Grant Ashford.

Where every touch, every command, every degradation was a silent apology for what I’d done.

Where every moment I stayed was another nail in my coffin of pride.

But I had a secret of my own.

I liked it.

The power. The fear. The way he made me feel alive.

I’d become his dirty little pawn in a game of redemption.

And as I slipped my blouse from my shoulders, I knew I’d do whatever he asked.

Because I owed him.

And because, deep down, I craved it.

He barely glanced at me as I unhooked my bra, letting my breasts spill out.

The cool air of the study brushed against my nipples, making them peak.

“Good,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Now the skirt. Slowly.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

My trembling fingers unzipped the side, letting the fabric pool around my ankles.

I stepped out of it, my heart hammering in my chest.

I was now standing before him in nothing but my lacy black lingerie.

He took his sweet time looking his fill, his gaze lingering on the dampness between my thighs.

“Now the panties,” he ordered.

I swallowed hard and hooked my thumbs under the waistband, sliding them down.

They dropped to the floor with a whisper, and I stepped out of them, feeling utterly exposed.

“Kneel,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine.

I sank to my knees, the cold marble sending a shiver through me.

This was it. The moment I became his.

But instead of fear, I felt something else.

Excitement.

The kind that made me feel like I was on the edge of a cliff, about to jump into the unknown.

He took his time walking around me, his gaze raking over my bare skin like a brand.

I felt every inch of him—his power, his control, his hunger.

And as his hand reached out to cup my chin, forcing me to look up at him, I knew I’d never felt so alive.

“You’re going to do everything I say, Quinn. Without question. Without hesitation. Do you understand?”

I nodded, my voice lost in the thickness of the air.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip.

The sound of his zipper echoed in the silent room.

I watched as he pulled out his thick, hard cock, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

The scent of him filled my nostrils—musky, male, and utterly intoxicating.

“Open your mouth,” he said, his voice a command that sent a thrill through me.

I parted my lips, and he guided his cock inside, his grip on my chin tightening as he pushed deeper.

He tasted of power and sin—everything I’d ever wanted but never knew how to get.

As I began to suck, my mind raced.

This wasn’t supposed to turn me on.

This was blackmail.

This was wrong.

But as he grew harder, as his breathing grew ragged, I couldn’t deny the heat pooling in my core.

I liked serving him. Liked making him feel good.

It was a heady feeling—being under his control.

He groaned, his hand sliding to the back of my head, pushing me further down.

I gagged, my eyes watering, but I didn’t stop.

I liked it when he lost control.

I liked the power I thought I had in this moment.

The power to give him pleasure.

To take it away. Or so I thought…….

His hips began to move, fucking my mouth in a slow, steady rhythm.

I felt his hand in my hair tighten, the grip almost painful.

But I didn’t care.

I liked the way his body reacted to me.

I liked knowing that I could do this to him.

“Take it all, slut,” he growled, his voice gruff with lust.

The word should have repulsed me, but instead, it sent a jolt straight to my pussy.

I took him deeper, letting him hit the back of my throat, my eyes watering.

He was getting rougher now, his movements more erratic.

I could feel his orgasm building—his whole body was tense, like a coiled spring about to snap.

“You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, his hand in my hair, pulling harder.

I nodded, the pressure increasing.

My mouth was his, and I was his.

A whine escaped me as he picked up the pace, my jaw aching from his relentless fucking.

It was a reminder of what I’d become.

His property.

His whore.

“Look at me when I come, Quinn. I want to see your eyes,” he ordered.

I complied, looking up through tear-blurred vision as he stared down at me, his face a mask of concentration and desire.

His hand tightened, and I knew he was close.

The thought of his hot cum filling my mouth made me wetter, and I felt the muscles in my stomach clench in anticipation.

“Swallow it all,” he breathed.

But just as I felt him about to release, the door to the study burst open, and in stumbled Drew, his eyes wide with shock.

“What the fuck, Dad?” he choked out.

Grant’s hand didn’t leave my head. Instead, he squeezed tighter.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” I tried to say, but all that came out was a muffled moan around his cock.

“Oh, it is exactly what it looks like,” he said, his voice cold and unforgiving.

Drew stared, horrified, at the scene before him.

Grant’s eyes never left mine. “You see, Drew, your little whore here has been a very bad girl. And she’s going to learn her lesson.”

I felt the first hot spurt of cum hit the back of my throat, and I swallowed it down, my eyes never leaving Drew’s.

His face was a mask of disgust and anger, but there was something else there too.

Something darker.

Something that made my stomach turn.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just watched as his father used me.