Claim Me

Chapter Four: Damian

The room was calm when I opened my eyes. The only sound was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. The weight of quiet pressing against the sound of my ears, and the familiar warmth of breath at the side of my bed. Then suddenly, the sound of claws against the hardwood and a low huff.

I turned and reached over the side of the bed and ran my fingers through Sam's soft, thick fur. "Morning, bud," I muttered. The dog huffed again, half complaint, half reminder. He was patient, but not completely. We all have needs after all. I sat up and stretched, then got up and moved through the apartment like I always did—no alarms, no wasted moments, just the ritual of silence. The apartment was clean, with warm chestnut colored walls and a black leather couch. Everything had a place and served a purpose. Sam moved next to me, his eyes were alert but unhurried. He was more than just a dog; he was my companion whom I didn't have to explain myself to.

I fed Sam first, raw kibble with a small amount of bone broth. He waited for me to give the go-ahead, then while he ate, I made my own breakfast. I cooked up two sunny-side up eggs and some toast, then I ate them with a cup of black coffee that was made with a French press. I ate slowly, silently, watching the sun inch closer to morning. My phone buzzed once, Lexi confirming a 10 AM prep with one of our clients, and I completely ignored it. I rarely spoke to anyone in the morning, and I enjoyed my quiet. But today my thoughts were on Ivy.

The way she stood in my office, eyes bright with defiance, she would break; she just didn't know it yet.

I arrived at the firm just before eight, and the morning moved slowly. 9:15 client call with tech, 10 strategy session, 11:30 conference with opposing counsel, noon lunch meeting with a political consultant. By 3, I was done being polite, and by 5, I was ready to retreat. I didn't speak as I walked through the executive floor. The associates knew when to shut up and stay out of my way. Lexi passed me in the hallway with a knowing glance. She always knew too much but was good at keeping it to herself.

I stepped into my office, and there it was, the folder. The same one Ivy had less than twenty-four hours ago. Closed and centered on my desk. I slowly opened it, finding it signed with her signature. It was small and neat. Like always. I closed the folder and sat back, letting the weight of it settle in. I'd made the offer because I saw the truth in her. She needed someone to see what she was under all the armor. She needed to have someone see her, to see the real her. The contract was signed, a single stroke of ink. Ivy Bennet had said yes. I should have felt satisfied and in control. But this field is wild and energetic.

I left the office without another word, folder tucked into my coat pocket. The sun was lowering behind the buildings, casting long shadows between the buildings. The streets were still alive with people, but I didn't feel part of it; I never really did. Halfway home, I stopped at a quiet corner cafe, no name on the sign just a rusting awning and a single low-watt light bulb hanging over the entrance. And they had staff that didn't care as long as you tipped well and minded your own business. I sat at the far table in the back, the one I always sat at. The waitress took my order: Roasted chicken, greens, brown rice, and still water.

I ate in silence while Ivy's signature echoed in my mind. She signed. Why her? Why now? Because Ivy Bennet is the first person I've seen in years who doesn't flinch when she's hurt. She fights quietly and alone. But something beneath that fire is something so fragile it hurts. She's like me.

I sip on my water and remember what it's like to lose control, not to give it but to have it ripped from me.

Paris 2012

It started with her voice.

Low, French accent, almost bored. Elise had a way of speaking that made you lean in, like every word she said just drew you in. She was older than I by a few years. She wore control like it was a scent, every once of her was deliberate, precise, and untouchable. And I thought I was absolutely in love with her. Then, after four months, I was not only hooked, but I was completely addicted. She told me I was her favorite, that I obeyed.

Until I didn't.

I was too intense, too possessive. I wanted something real; she wanted to be worshiped. She left me one night in a hotel room with nothing but a note on the side table. "Sorry," It said, nothing more. I lived in silence for years, and when I rebuilt myself, I never offered anything again. Because when someone controls you, you learn the difference between surrender and sacrifice. And you never let it happen twice.

That's how I see Ivy, I see fracture, I see the fight. And for the first time, I don't want to take, I want to heal.

I blinked against the memory as the city lights sharpened against my apartment windows. The contract was sitting on my desk now. Ivy signed it, no hesitation, no note. She just gave me the consent and ink in silence. And that kind of trust im not going to f**k up.

Sam padded across the floor, heavy paws, dark eyes, tail swaying. He circled me, then laid down, resting his head next to my feet. "You'll like her," I muttered as I bent down and scratched behind his ear.

I glanced back at the contract, at Ivy's signature. It wasn't about s*x, not entirely. It was the hunger underneath it, to be seen, to be taken seriously. I knew that hunger, I lived it once. And now that she gave me permission, I would give her something no one had offered me, not pleasure, not power, but safety.

I quietly fed Sam, showered, and changed into a T-shirt and sweatpants before heading over to my home office to store the contract.

That's when my phone rang. I answered without hesitation. "What is it?" I asked, "She signed it, didn't she?" Lexi asked, her voice smooth. "Yes," I said simply. "So you're actually doing it, you're going to take her?" I narrowed my eyes at this. "Is this why you called?" I asked. Lexi laughed, but there was no humor in it. "She's a mess, Damian. She's not ready; she's clinging to you because she has nowhere else to go. That's not desire, that's desperation." I let out a hard sigh at this. "You don't know her," I responded. "I know women like her, they break. And they expect people like you to pick up their pieces. I've watched you do it before, you take in strays, and then wonder why you're cleaning up the mess after they leave." Lexi's voice was cold. "Careful," I replied sharply. Lexi's tone changed. "You think she's any different from Elise?" I ground my teeth and growled. "She's nothing like Elise." "You're right." She said. "Elise never pretended to be broken." I held a breath for a moment, the words hanging between us. "Im concerned for you and the firm. This little project is going to cost you more than you think." Lexi added. "Ivy is not a project!" I spat back. "She's going to hurt you." Lexi said dryly. "I'm counting on it."

Then I hung up.