Date Published: August 7, 2026
Marley -- I built the model. Denton stole the credit, sabotaged my numbers, and tried to bury me in front of the client. Then Lucan walks in. Three nights ago, he was the Dom who bound my wrists, stripped away my control, and made me scream inside Sanctum Black. Today, he’s the client who can save my career -- or destroy it. He demands I lead the account. Demands a direct line to me. And when he orders me back to his private room, kneeling and waiting, I know exactly what he wants. Worse, I know exactly how badly I want to give it to him.
Lucan -- Marley thinks she can hide behind sharp suits, sharper words, and professional boundaries. She’s wrong. I saw what she needed the first night I had her under my hands. I saw the hunger, the surrender, the beautiful way she fought herself before giving in. Her boss tried to take what belonged to her. I handled that. Now I’ll handle Marley. I won’t break her. I’ll bind her, test her, praise her, punish her, and make her beg. She’s mine. By the time I’m done, she’ll say it. More? She’ll believe it.
Read an Excerpt:
Marley
I sat at my desk, staring at my finished project. Three weeks of work stacked into a clean PowerPoint. The numbers aligned. The previous projections had been spot on, and I had worked to complete this project and move to the next phase for over two years. Now waves had started in upper management. The completed work would not be presented by me.
My boss, Denton, had made that clear in his email yesterday. He would lead. I would attend as backup for any questions he couldn’t answer. The email didn’t mention why he’d pulled the rug out from under me, but I had a good idea.
My phone buzzed. A text from the front: Denton wanting me in the conference room now. I’d already sent him my presentation for review so I couldn’t imagine why he’d want me early. Even with him doing the bulk of the meeting, I still had prep work to finish.
With a sigh, I shut my laptop and slipped it into my briefcase before leaving my tiny cubicle. The open-plan office stretched around me. No one looked up… which was the first warning. The conference room sat at the far end of the floor, all glass walls and polished table. I could see two junior associates already seated inside, their postures attentive, laptops open. Denton stood at the head of the table with the room’s projection screen pulled down. The navy suit he wore looked expensive and tailored, his tie perfectly straight.
I stepped inside and the door closed behind me with a soft click. Denton did not look up from his phone. “Marley. Thank you for joining us.” He set his phone down and reached for the laptop in front of him. “I’ve made a few adjustments to the presentation.”
He opened the file to the first slide. My name in the bottom corner was now gone, replaced by his name in a large, bold font.
He glanced up at me. “Optics. I’m sure you understand.” His curt explanation cut me off before I fully processed he’d actually taken credit for my work. His voice stayed level. I opened my mouth to object but heard how petty I’d sound in front of my colleagues. “The client expects senior leadership on engagements of this size. It’s about inserting confidence into the relationship between our companies.”
Neither of the other two men in the room spoke up. Instead, they both kept their eyes on their own screens.
“This is an editorial decision, not a reflection on your work.” Denton smiled, though there was nothing remotely friendly or pleasant about the expression on his face. “You’ll be in the room. You’ll have the opportunity to contribute during Q&A.”
My heart pounded in alarm. He was edging me out. Denton had every intention of taking credit for the work we’d done on the first phase. He knew enough about the next steps to make everything work, but I doubted he could explain the finer points, or keep the project on track to meet the projections for phase two which would mean a significant delay in phase three. Assuming the assigned team made it to phase three.
“I understand the optics,” I said. My voice came out clipped, precise. Anything louder would give him what he wanted. “But the analysis is mine. The client should know who built it in case there are adjustments leading into phase two.”
“Of course.” Denton nodded as if I had said something helpful. Then he pulled up a slide with a page I had never seen. A figure chart with numbers that did not match any data set I’d worked with.
“I did want to raise one concern.” He turned the slide toward the juniors. “This figure. The correlation coefficient here is significantly off from the rest of the model. I caught it during my review.”
The room went very quiet. I stared at the slide. The numbers were wrong. They weren’t numbers I had generated and they definitely didn’t belong in my analysis. Nor had I put them there. Suddenly, everything made sense. The way he’d undercut me in the first meeting when he’d replaced my topic without notice. The way he’d taken credit for my work. He wanted point on this project and the prestige that went with it.
“This is exactly the kind of oversight that concerns me,” Denton continued. His tone had shifted to something gentler, almost paternal. “Attention to detail matters at this level. The client will have questions. We need to be prepared with answers.”
My whole body broke out into a sweat, the visceral reaction to the way I’d just been undercut. My jaw tightened. The furrow between my brows deepened, a physical response I could not control.
“That slide isn’t mine,” I said. The words came out steady. Barely.
Denton’s expression did not change. “The file was submitted to me under your name.”
“I didn’t build that chart. The numbers are wrong.”
“Then we’ll correct it.” He set the slide down. “The important thing is that we caught it before the client saw it. That’s what a senior review process is for.” Could he sound more patronizing?
Through the glass walls, I could see heads turning toward the conference room. Not staring directly. The careful, sidelong attention of people who understood exactly what was happening without needing to hear the words. The shape of a public correction. The unmistakable geometry of a superior establishing dominance.
About the Author:
Welcome to Wanda Violet O.'s world of bedtime fantasy, where you'll find a variety of sexy creatures ready to drink their fill. Wanda specializes in extreme kink. Monsters, BDSM role play... she's got it all. Come take a look for yourself!
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