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I look at Luciano, who is relaxed back in his chair, a cigar in one hand and the drink I have just placed on the table in the other.

“You have all been here at least once,” I say, looking around the table and then back at Luciano.

He is a handsome man. Classically handsome. With a sharp jawline, light blue eyes that remind me of a cloud-free sky in summer, and wavy black hair styled to perfection. He exudes more power than most of the men on this level. Most except one, his presence felt across the room even now.

“Still. It is an interesting talent.” I leave his words hanging in the air, not wanting anyone in this room to know I have a photographic memory. I’m not dumb enough not to know that the documents changing hands here contain sensitive and confidential information.They might kill me for what I have seen.

“You have not been at work.” I am getting used to powerful men making statements instead of asking a question. And their assumption that they are privy to an answer. But not answering seems foolish, so I supply the generic excuse.

“I had a family situation I was dealing with.”

Luciano assesses me, taking a drag of his cigar and then sipping his whiskey. He does not believe my story, his eyes dipping briefly to my neck scarf. I blink a couple of times, thinking I must be mistaken when his gaze lingers on my lips for a moment.

The longer I stay at the table, the more this begins to feel personal.

Luciano puts his drink down, and then his hand disappears inside the pocket of his Armani suit. He pulls out a cream card and hands it to me, his finger grazing mine briefly. Yes, this feels way too personal for my liking.

It was an invitation. To an event being held tomorrow night at The Barcelona, a fancy hotel in town. I had read about it once in a magazine. The restaurant was world-renowned and had four Michelin stars.

“It is late notice, but you have not been around. You will be there.” I look from the invitation to him and then at the men at the table, still staring at me. The demand is clear, and his tone broaches no argument.

“You will be my date.” My head snaps over to Luciano, my mouth opening and closing as I try to find the right words to decline an offer from such a man without insulting him.

Then I feel him behind me. Damon. His large hand snakes around my waist before pulling me flush against his body. I squeak in surprise, my hand flying up to muffle the sound.

His hold is possessive. Dominating. He is staking his claim forall to see. I am a feminist. Or so I thought. But my traitorous body responds to this masculine alpha action not by feeling indignant. No. She blossoms. She blooms. She leans into the man, for heaven's sake.

Luciano's eyes narrow on the contact, and then his gaze flicks up to meet with Damon’s.

“I’m afraid Sienna cannot be your date tonight as she is already going with me.”

The entire room falls silent. When I dare glance around, all eyes are on us, including the staff. Kate and even Stacey look far from pleased.

“I did not know she was taken.” Luciano’s words finally elicit the indignation that had been missing. I wasn’t some object to be owned.

“She is. She ismine.” Like a yoyo, the annoyance that should still apply fades and melts away, as do I at Damon's words. Swoon.

She is mine.

Three words. I now understand why I have always been so fascinated by dark romance books. Those words slide over my body and then hit the little nerve between my legs. It was so hot hearing them spoken out loud. In a voice so dominating. By a man who holds me with such familiarity and avariciousness, it leaves no room for doubt that we have been here before. In each other's arms.

Luciano and Damon stare at each other for what feels like a lifetime before some unspoken understanding is reached. However, I get the feeling from Luciano, whose light blue eyes look at me like a possession coveted even more now that another has claimed it, that this will not be the last.

The next minute, he and his entire entourage rise, forcing us to step back.

“I will see you both tonight. Damon.” Luciano dips his head in greeting, his face a blank mask, and then they all leave in a cloud of smoke and confusion, on my part. What just happened?

Damon spins me around. His eyes narrow slightly before landing on the invitation in my hand.

Slowly, he takes it and then looks at it.

“He didn’t even include a plus one. The presumptuous asshole.” His eyes meet mine, and then he slowly tears the invitation in half, the sound grating on my nerves. It wouldn’t take much at this point.

“I can’t leave you alone for five minutes. Go to my office and wait there.”

“But I can’t just leave. What will everyone think?” I mumble, Stacey's words from earlier coming to haunt me. This reinforced everything she said and did not endear me to the rest of the staff.

“Don’t test my patience, Sienna. I don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks. And if I have to see one more man's eyes rake that delicious body of yours, I will commit murder.”