Claim Me

Chapter Five: Damian

The days passed, slow, smooth, clinging to all the wrong places. It's been one week since Ivy signed the contract, and I have not said a single thing to her since.

Ivy was at work every day at 8:45 sharp. Her hair was tied back, and her clothes were always neat. I watched her work, watched her listen in on senior associate briefings, case references, and read case files like she was building a puzzle that only she could solve, And I watched her walk the halls with fragile tension in her shoulders, like she was always holding her breath. I waited, giving her time and space.

Monday

The day started with back-to-back calls, one with a hedge client worried about a whistleblower fallout, and another with a tech startup that's desperate to hide harassment complaints under an NDA rug. By eleven, I needed coffee and much more patience. I walked past Ivy's desk. She never looked up, but I noticed her grip on the pen she was holding tightened more. While in the break room, I had just finished making my cup of coffee when Lexi walked in. She was wearing red. A warning sign if I ever saw one. "She's pushing herself," Lexi said, without a greeting. "She can handle it," I responded. Lexi smiled. "Is this part of your game? Leave her longing long enough that she will beg?" I raised a brow. "Are you worried about her?" I asked. Lexi's eyes darkened. "I'm not the one playing paralegal." I drew in a deep breath and stared her down. "No," I said calmly. "You're just pretending to care." I then walked past her to go back to my office, leaving Lexi behind.

Tuesday

Sam was restless this morning; he paced the apartment while I sipped my black coffee and reviewed a contract modification clause for an estate case. Sam always knew when something was off, and so did I.

At the office, I noticed Lexi was gone, and I ignored it. While I was going through emails, my phone pinged. It was Lexi.

Lexi [2:11 PM]

You keep circling her like a shark, and she's bleeding. That's cruelty, not domination.

Me [ 2:14 PM]

You don't understand the difference between submission and survival, she does.

Lexi [2:16]

And if she drowns?

Me [2:18]

I'll pull her back up.

Lexi didn't respond; she didn't need to.

Wednesday.

The second day, Ivy wasn't at her desk; her absence hit me the moment I walked into the firm. Like the hum of something that used to be there, now completely silent.

The space she usually held a kind of tension, quiet but loaded. Now the air was still quiet but different; it wasn't just stilled, it was completely empty. At first, I walked by Ivy's desk like I always did. I went straight to my office and shut the door before sitting down at my desk. I tried to focus on the memorandum draft that needed to be done. But my eyes kept drifting to her desk. It was still empty, her chair tucked in too neatly, no coffee cup, no bag, just nothing.

I pushed the document aside and buzzed Lexi. "Has Ivy called in?" There was a pause. "No." I looked up at Ivy's desk and sighed. "Has she checked in with anyone?" Another pause. "No, why?" I looked down at the buzzer, my eyebrows furrowed. "She's been out since Monday." Pause. "You're counting?" Lexi's tone was sharp, so I decided not to respond.

Noon

I was in a meeting with a tech venture client who was dragging his heels through negotiations. I had him cornered on two clauses. But my tone was off, and he clearly noticed. After the meeting, my junior partner asked if I was okay. "Fine," I lied. I went to the break room to grab myself a cup of coffee, and I thought maybe there was a chance that someone was in there that heard about Ivy. But all I saw were two interns sitting and talking about Lexi's shoes.

Lunch came and went, and I tried to eat: salad, grilled chicken, and sparkling water.

Once I was back in my office, I opened Ivy's file, and her emergency contact was empty. I felt a bit concerned about this. I quickly wrote down her address and shoved it into my pocket. The office buzzed like nothing happened. But to me, it had.

Lexi walked into my office late that afternoon. Red lipstick, perfect hair. "She's not gone." Lexi stated, I didn't look up. "She's sick," Lexi added. "I asked around, one of the assistants said she called in Tuesday morning, probably the flu." I could feel her shrug from over here. "and nobody thought to let me know?" My voice came out low, dark, and dangerous. "She's a paralegal, not your patient." I stood, Lexi flinched, not a lot but enough that I noticed. "I know exactly what she is." Lexi's face paled and she left without saying anything else.

That night, I pulled out my phone and texted Ivy, "You have until Monday, and next time, let me know before you are absent again."

The weekend went by in a blur. I spent most of the time with Sam and catching up on briefs. I never got a response to the text I sent, and not sending another one was definitely eating away at me, but I persisted.

Ivy returned to work on Monday. I heard the subtle scrape of her chair, the same rhythm as always. Precise, respectful, but just shy of relaxed. I passed her on my way to the elevator, our eyes met, but only briefly. Small steps, control was a lot about timing, always timing.

That morning, I asked Ivy to join us in a research meeting. Four partners, two associates. Lexi was sitting directly across from me, arms crossed and eyes tracking every move like a hawk. Ivy sat near the end of the table, quiet. Her notepad was open, and a pen in her hand. She thought she was there to take notes, but I had other plans.

We were reviewing motions on a complex fraud case, deep financial manipulation, and class-action exposure. I let the room argue itself out. Then, I learned forward, elbows on the table, and hands folded. My eyes were on Ivy, and she was taking notes with her head down. "Ms. Bennet." Her head snapped up, eyes on me. Several people turned. They were confused. Lexi raised a brow. "Yes, Mr. Blackwell?" Ivy asked, her eyes scanned the room briefly before landing on me, expecting, waiting. Her voice was soft but steady. "What are your thoughts?" There was a pause. Ivy looked down for a second before looking back up at me. "I believe the current language favors federal oversight." The room stayed silent, waiting for my response. I smiled. "Noted." Then the room went back into an uproar about everything, like nothing happened.

Later, I passed Ivy on my way to the office. My shoulder brushed hers. I kept walking, but I heard her exhale. Like she had been holding it in for a long time, good.

That afternoon, Lexi stormed into my office. "You humiliated her!" She stated. "She performed well," I replied flatly. "She was blindsided," Lexi stated bitterly. "She was prepared!" I spat back. My eyes were on the memo I was working on. Lexi scoffed, "You're building her up only to break her." I set the memo down. "I don't ruin what I value," I said quietly. "And I don't value people who pretend to care just to keep their place." Lexi's jaw clenched. "So she gets your attention now? "Because she's damaged enough to fit your taste?" I let out a soft sigh. "She earned it." There was a long pause. "And I didn't?" I could feel the hurt in Lexi's voice. I looked up at her. "Not like this." Lexi didn't reply; she just turned and walked out of the office, the door slamming shut behind her.

On Friday, I arrived at the office early. I didn't sleep well and spent the night with Sam taking over half the bed. I knew he could sense the unrest, his presence being the only warmth I'd have allowed myself over the years.

During the lunch hour, I sent boxes to Ivy's home address, tracked, timed, and sealed with a handwritten card.

Saturday, 8:00 pm

Masquraide at the local theater, across from the firm.

dress code: strictly formal.

Your attire has already been selected.

I'll find you.

-D