Beneath His Rule (BL)

Punishment 2.2

Across the room, Cleo was engaged in a conversation with some business contacts, though his eyes were always on Genesis.

“Excuse me,” Genesis said to the heiress, his voice breaking through the moment. “I must speak with my husband. I’ll be back shortly.”

With a swift turn, Genesis walked away, moving through the crowd with grace. As he neared Cleo, he noticed the sharpness of the Alpha’s gaze, his jaw tense and his posture rigid. It was clear Cleo hadn’t missed a single moment.

But just when he thought he might get away with it, Cleo made his move.

As they stood in a quiet corner of the venue, discussing a contract with a potential investor, Cleo reached out again and placed his arm around Genesis’s waist—firm, possessive, yet gentle. The warmth of his hand seared through the fabric of Genesis’s suit, and his body tensed instinctively.

He could feel Cleo’s eyes on him, pressuring him against his side. Genesis held his ground, refusing to flinch, even though a part of him wanted to pull away. Cleo could claim ownership over him in every other way, but not in this moment.

As the night continues, Genesis grew a little restless. Cleo was deep in conversation with investors, ignoring him, so Genesis decided to slip away from the crowd, walking toward the bar. The click of his heels echoing in the quiet space. It was a small act, but it was enough to spark the quiet tension in Cleo’s jaw when he noticed Genesis’s absence.

Cleo’s eyes locked on Genesis from across the room. The subtle tightening of his lips told Genesis everything he needed to know. Cleo had noticed.

Genesis smirked to himself as he ordered a drink, his back to Cleo, knowing full well that Cleo was watching him, waiting for him to slip up further.

But the evening took an unexpected turn when a familiar figure approached Genesis, a man from one of Cleo’s rival families. His name was Marcus Devereux, a notorious flirt, known for his charm and the way he made even the most powerful men squirm. When he laid eyes on Genesis, it was as though the rest of the room faded away. His predatory gaze locked onto Genesis, his lips curling into a sly grin as he made his way toward him.

“Genesis Argent,” Marcus purred, his eyes raking over him. “Looking stunning as always.”

Genesis didn’t even flinch. As if he's alreqdy used to it, meeting Marcus’s predatory gaze with a mocking smile. “I tend to have that effect.”

Cleo’s eyes narrowed the moment he saw Marcus approach, gritting his teeth in restraint. Marcus, however, didn’t seem to notice or care about the tension coming from Cleo. He took a step closer to Genesis, his gaze lingering over his velvet suit, his smile widening.

Marcus chuckled, stepping closer, his eyes sweeping over Genesis’s outfit. “I have to admit, Cleo’s a lucky man. Cleo’s tastes are usually so... minimalist.”

Genesis, ever the provocateur, didn’t miss a beat. “I like to think of myself as a work of art,” he said smoothly, glancing at Cleo with a sly smile. “I’m sure Cleo will learn to appreciate the masterpiece.”

“I must say, I’m impressed, Though, I can’t help but wonder if you’d be happier elsewhere.” Marcus continued, his voice low and inviting. “You look exquisite tonight. What’s your secret? Or do I have to take you out to find out?”

Genesis, not missing the opportunity again to stir the pot, allowed his lips to curl into a teasing smile. “I don’t think that’s your business, Mr. Devereux. Perhaps you should take your flirting elsewhere.”

Marcus chuckled, “You’re always so full of fire. I like that.” His hand reached out, as though to brush a stray lock of hair from Genesis’s face

Before Genesis could respond, he felt a familiar presence behind him. Cleo’s hand slid firmly around his waist, pulling him away from Marcus. The gesture wasn’t harsh, but it left no room for argument.

“Scram.” Cleo said, his voice cold, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Genesis could notice the way Cleo’s fists clenched, and his jaw tight with anger. The words were restrained, but there was no mistake about the fury brewing inside him.

Marcus’s grin faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly, he put his hands up in the air, full of mockery “Ah, Cleo. Always so protective. You should loosen your grip—might make things more enjoyable for everyone.”

Cleo ignored him. With a slight tug, he guided Genesis toward the exit. Genesis didn’t resist, but his annoyance was clear in the sharpness of his steps.

Marcus laughed as he noticed that he's ignored, stepping back with a mocking bow. “Fair enough. Enjoy your evening.”

As Marcus disappeared into the crowd, Cleo leaned down, his breath brushing against Genesis’s ear. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Genesis pulled away from Cleo’s grip, his stubbornness still showing. “What’s your problem? He was just talking.”

Cleo didn’t respond, his jaw tight as he guided them toward the exit. Genesis tried to pull back, but Cleo’s grip on his waist was firm.

Back at the house, the air was heavy with tension. Cleo didn’t say a word as they entered the entrance of the mansion, but his every movement was precise and calculated. The workers, sensing something was off, quickly cleared the area, their footsteps echoing faintly as they retreated to avoid their master’s wrath.

He noticed Cleo’s workers standing near the staff exit, discreetly watching their boss.

The butler lingered for a moment, concern etched across his face. “Sir, is everything—” Cleo, ever aware, gave a subtle nod to cut his butler, who took it as a cue to leave.

Genesis watched the exchange, his brow furrowed.

“What was that about? Why are you dismissing him like that?” Genesis didn’t catch the meaning between their exchange, but the workers did. They knew better than to get involved when Cleo was in this mood.

Cleo ignored the question, his sharp gray eyes fixing on Genesis. “Upstairs. Now.”

Genesis crossed his arms, raising his right eyebrow. “Excuse me? I’m not some child you can order around.”

Cleo stepped closer, his presence towering. “Upstairs,” he repeated, his voice dangerously calm.

Genesis’s temper flared. “You have no right to—”

Before he could finish, Cleo grabbed his wrist and began leading him toward the staircase. Genesis yanked his arm back, glaring at him. “Let go of me!”

Cleo stopped, turning to face him fully. His expression was cold, unreadable, but his voice was softer when he spoke. “Go upstairs.”

For a moment, Genesis hesitated. There was something in Cleo’s tone—it was anger, but more controlled. More controlled than what he used to see on his father. It was unsettling. Reluctantly, Genesis turned and headed upstairs, though he made sure to slam the door behind him once he reached their room.