Prologue
Prologue
The house was dark when Vivienne Heaven Jacinto stepped inside.
She closed the front door as quietly as she could, but the soft click still sounded too loud. Her pulse was already too fast. The project with Rowena had run hours later than planned, and she had forgotten to send a single message. The second she saw the time on her phone, she had driven home too quickly, hoping—praying—that he would already be asleep.
He wasn’t.
Arcturus Vesarius Callahan sat on the living room sofa, a glass of whiskey resting in one hand. The single lamp he had left on cut hard shadows across his face. Thirty-seven. Dark hair. Darker eyes. The same unmovable stillness that had ruled every year of her life since she was twelve.
“You’re late.”
Two words. Quiet. Final.
Vivienne stopped in the middle of the room. The tote bag strap bit into her shoulder. She was twenty-one. Legal. An adult by every standard that mattered on paper. None of it mattered when he looked at her like this.
“D-Daddy—”
“Come here.”
There was no space to argue. Her feet moved before her mind could catch up. The moment she was within reach, Arcturus caught her wrist and pulled her down onto his lap in one smooth, ruthless motion. Her back hit the solid wall of his chest. One large hand locked around her waist, the other settling heavily on her bare thigh. The short skirt she still wore offered no protection.
“You didn’t text,” he said against her ear, voice low and cold. “You didn’t call. You simply decided I didn’t need to know where my daughter was.”
“I lost track of time,” she whispered. “We were finishing the project. I swear—”
His fingers tightened on her thigh hard enough to bruise.
“Don’t swear. Don’t explain. Answer me.” His breath was warm against the side of her neck. “Was there a boy?”
The question landed like a blade.
Vivienne hesitated a second too long.
“There’s a friend of ours. Alex. He’s just—”
Arcturus’s arm banded tighter around her waist, dragging her fully against him until she could feel every hard line of his body—and the thick, unmistakable length pressing firmly against the curve of her ass.
“A boy,” he repeated, voice dropping into something darker. “You let a boy near what belongs to me.”
“He’s only a friend—”
“I didn’t ask what he is.” His free hand slid higher beneath her skirt, rough palm dragging over soft skin until his fingers rested at the edge of her panties. “I asked if you let him near you. And you did.”
Vivienne’s breath stuttered. Tears already burned at the corners of her eyes. She had never had a boyfriend. Not once. The closest any boy had come was a single clumsy kiss at eighteen—shut down the same night Arcturus found out. After that, the rules had been absolute. No dates. No late nights. No one touching what he had already decided was his.
His mouth brushed the back of her neck, open and deliberate. A slow drag of his tongue followed. Goosebumps raced down her arms. A small, broken sound escaped her before she could stop it.
Then he shifted beneath her, grinding that hard length more deliberately against her.
“Feel that?” he murmured, almost gently. “That’s what happens when you test me, Vivienne. When you forget who you answer to.”
She couldn’t speak. Shame and something far hotter tangled low in her belly.
Arcturus’s fingers traced the damp center of her panties, slow and possessive.
“So wet,” he said quietly, almost thoughtfully. “My disobedient girl comes home late, lets a boy near her, and still soaks through her underwear the second I put my hands on her.”
Vivienne’s hips twitched despite herself. Tears slipped free, tracking down her cheeks.
He pressed harder against her through the thin cotton, feeling exactly how ready her body already was.
“You don’t get to decide the rules anymore,” he said against her ear, voice soft and ruthless. “You don’t get to stay out. You don’t get to speak to boys. You don’t get to pretend this cunt isn’t already mine.”
His fingers pushed the fabric aside just enough to brush bare, slick skin. Vivienne’s whole body jerked.
“Tonight you learn what happens when you forget.” Arcturus’s free hand came up and caught her chin, turning her face just enough that she could feel the cold weight of his stare even in the dim light. “And you will not forget again.”
He released her chin. The loss of contact felt almost worse.
“Stand up.”
The order was quiet. Absolute.
Vivienne rose on unsteady legs, skirt still hiked high, panties already ruined. Behind her, she heard the soft, deliberate sound of leather sliding free from belt loops.
Arcturus’s voice followed her like a claim.
“Hands on the armrest. Ass out. Eyes forward.”
A pause.
“We begin.”
