Scene I: The Morning Buzz
The elevators of King Enterprises opened at 8:01 a.m. sharp.
Silence hit the floor as Tyrone Dominian stepped out.
He was dressed in a black, custom-fitted suit—open collar, no tie. His skin still carried the golden sheen of time in the sun, and his walk had the fluid confidence of a man who’d spent a week being worshipped and adored. Behind him, Daniel followed—immaculate in his slate-gray slacks and a crisp navy shirt, his eyes cast slightly downward but glowing with quiet power.
Eyes followed them. Conversations stopped mid-sentence.
Some women straightened their spines.
Some men adjusted in their seats.
And a few exchanged knowing glances. Whispers had been flying for days:
“Did you hear? Tyrone’s intern went on the trip with him.”
“I bet they didn’t talk strategy the whole time.”
“He’s back. Wonder who’s next.”
But Tyrone didn’t say a word. He headed straight to his corner office, the door closing behind him with a quiet, definitive click.
Scene II: The Subtle Challenge
By 10:00 a.m., Ava was in his office.
Not scheduled. Not invited.
She entered wearing a tight white blouse tucked into a pencil skirt that hugged every curve. Her makeup was flawless. Her lips were red. Her smirk? Dangerous.
“You look relaxed,” she said. “Did you enjoy your little sabbatical?”
Tyrone leaned back in his chair. “It was productive.”
“I’m sure it was,” she replied, crossing one leg over the other. “Meanwhile, half the company’s been eating itself alive trying to figure out if Daniel’s on your staff or your… personal payroll.”
He didn’t blink. “Anything else, Ava?”
She leaned forward, palms on the desk.
“Yes. You left a power vacuum. And people are getting ideas.”
His eyes darkened. “And you’re getting bold.”
She smirked. “You always liked that about me.”
Tyrone stood slowly. Walked around the desk. Stopped behind her.
“Strip,” he commanded.
Ava froze. Turned slightly. “What?”
“You want my attention again?” he said, voice a growl. “Prove you can still handle it.”
She hesitated—just a beat.
Then unbuttoned her blouse, slow and sultry. Dropped it on his chair. Slid her skirt down her hips. Her black lingerie glistened under the office lighting.
Tyrone stepped in behind her, pressing her hips against the desk.
“You talk about power vacuums. But you forgot who the f*ck you’re dealing with.”
His hand slid between her thighs—teasing through lace.
“Moan too loud, and the floor hears you.”
She bit her lip, eyes fluttering.
“Say my name,” he whispered.
“Tyrone…” she gasped.
“Louder.”
“Tyrone.”
He leaned in, thrusting his fingers deeper, his other hand gripping her throat gently from behind.
“This is dominance,” he growled. “Not whispers. Not gossip. Me.”
She came hard on his fingers, body convulsing, nails clawing at the desk.
When it was over, he stepped back, adjusting his cuffs.
“Get dressed. You’re late for your 10:30.”
Scene III: Reestablishing Order
Word spread fast.
By lunch, Juliette Vernier had arrived—unannounced, of course. Elegant. Immaculate. Dangerous in heels and a silk scarf.
She found Daniel in the hallway.
“He’s reclaiming his kingdom, isn’t he?” she asked, lips curling.
Daniel nodded. “They forgot. He’s reminding them.”
“Should I let him know I’m available?” she said, coy.
Daniel hesitated. “He already knows.”
Juliette brushed a finger down his chest. “And you, darling? Are you still his?”
Daniel’s gaze hardened. “More than ever.”
She smiled. “Good. Then watch closely.”
Scene IV: Afternoon Audits
Tyrone called three executives into the conference room around 2:00 p.m.—two women and a man. They’d been too noisy in his absence. Too eager to claim “influence” over departments that weren’t theirs.
He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t issue threats.
He simply locked the door and said:
“Strip. All of you.”
They stared.
“Right now.”
And they obeyed.
In the next thirty minutes, Tyrone dominated all three—one bent over the table while he pinned her down and used her mouth, the other on her knees between his legs, and the man—naked, flushed, desperate—ordered to hold back until Tyrone allowed release.
“You wanted attention?” he said mid-thrust. “Now you have it.”
He finished on all of them—owning them. Reminding them.
The conference room reeked of sweat and sex.
By the time the door opened, they were speechless. Humbled.
And the rumors had grown fangs.
Scene V: The Private Debrief
That evening, Tyrone called Daniel into his office.
The lights were low. The blinds drawn. The air heavy.
Daniel stepped inside, pulse racing.
Tyrone was seated in the armchair. Shirt unbuttoned. A glass of whiskey in his hand.
“You saw what today was,” he said.
Daniel nodded. “You took back control.”
Tyrone stood.
“But I never lost it. They just forgot who owns this place.”
He stepped close, brushed a hand along Daniel’s cheek.
“And who owns you.”
Daniel dropped to his knees without command.
Tyrone smirked.
“Good boy.”
And then he took him. Right there on the office rug—rough, slow, thorough—reminding Daniel that he was the only one who got everything. The only one Tyrone whispered to during the final thrust. The only one he kissed after.
“They can watch. They can beg,” Tyrone said.
“But only you get all of me.”
Tyrone’s Page