Donovan leaned against the elegant balcony railing, the sprawling cityscape beneath him an intricate web of twinkling lights and restless energy.
"Boma," he breathed into the phone, the distant urban symphony harmonizing with the velvety timbre of his voice. "I trust you're conducting yourself with decorum tonight. You know the repercussions if you decide otherwise. You know me. I will find out if you misbehave."
Boma's voice quivered on the other end, an intricate blend of reverence and apprehension infusing her response. "I'm not doing anything bad, I swear," she whispered, her words a delicate fusion of compliance and trepidation.
"That's sweet to know, baby. Who's your man?"
"You." she responded, giving him the answer he expected.
"Me who?"
"Donovan"
"That's right. You're mine c
