Twice Claimed: Bound by the Billionaire

Chapter Four -

Sienna

Noah’s hand clasps mine, warm and sure. His other hand rests at my waist, and my breath catches - not because of attraction itself, but because of the relief that suddenly floods me. His touch feels human in a room made of cold glass.

He leans closer, his voice barely audible. “Smile for the cameras, Mrs. Hunter. You’re making enemies.”

I manage a weak laugh, careful not to look at him too long. “And are you one of them?”

“Not yet,” he says softly. “But give me time.”

We turn. The air between us hums. His thumb traces the inside of my wrist - an innocent motion to anyone watching, but one that makes my pulse stutter.

“Do you even know what you walked into?,” I ask before I can stop myself.

He smiles, slow and dangerous. “Maybe. But then again, that’s the fun part.”

The music ends, but neither of us move. For one long heartbeat, the world shrinks to just us - until Damian’s voice cuts through the air like a blade.

“To my wife.”

He stands at the head of the ballroom, glass raised. Cameras turn.

“She’s beautiful,” he says. “Brave, too. Not everyone could’ve done what she did. Saved a family legacy. Given us a future.”

The words hit like a slap. Applause swells, but all I hear is the truth behind the toast. My throat tightens. I force a smile, but my hand trembles in Noah’s.

“Touching,” Noah whispers, his gaze locked on Damien’s. “Almost believable.”

I pull away, the world tilting. The applause fades to a distant roar.

Noah Reed lifts his own glass toward me, the world’s most famous smile curved in secrets.

Damien approaches, slowly, and kisses my cheek. His hand rests on the small of my back.

And I realize that it’s going to be a long night.

- ### -

The string quartet slides into something slow and dreamlike, and the laughter in the ballroom softens into a slow hum. Damian’s hand settles at the small of my back, steady and possessive, guiding me back onto the dance floor. His touch feels like a brand - hot through the silk of my dress, impossible to ignore.

“Smile, my darling,” he murmurs. “They’re watching.”

So, I do. For the benefit of the crowd, the photographers, for everyone who believes this is a glittering fairytale instead of a contract written in blood and obligation. I lift my chin and rest my hand on his broad shoulder, the very picture of grace, while my pulse skitters like a trapped bird.

He leads me flawlessly. Of course he does. But when his gaze drifts over my shoulder - past me - to where Noah stands by the bar, watching us with that half-smile that promises to undo me, Damian’s steps falter just enough to betray the truth: He’s jealous. Or worse.

His grip on me tightens, and I can feel the evidence of his arousal, his c**k hard and heavy against me.

My own breath catches, a whisper of desire and rebellion stirring beneath the champagne and applause.

His lips brush against the shell of my ear. “Thirty more minutes,” he whispers. “We accept two more toasts and a few congratulations, then I’ll make our excuses. Thirty more minutes and you’re mine in every sense of the word.”

The music ends.

Our gazes lock and hold. I lick my dry lips, and his eyes darken as he follows the movement.

“I.. We should mingle -“

The sound of silver striking crystal cuts me off.

Noah’s voice carries across the room. “If I may have everyone’s attention, I’d like to offer a toast to the happy couple.”

There’s no sarcasm in his voice, nothing but warmth in his face - just an undercurrent invisible to everyone except Damian and me.

Damian’s hand tightens on my hip, sharp enough to make me gasp. His expression remains perfectly calm.