THE GLIDED CAGE OBSESSION OF THE IVORY TOWER

The intercom's buzzing was a persistent, irritating fly in a room filled with the scent of spent passion and sweat. Alaric finally withdrew, the sound of their separation a wet, heavy echo in the vast office. Elara slumped against the desk, her legs shaking so violently she couldn't close them. Her breasts, still slick and flushed a deep rose-pink, jiggled with every ragged breath she drew.

Alaric didn't look tired. He looked energized. He adjusted his trousers with a calm, cold efficiency, though his eyes remained fixed on Elara's disheveled state.

"Fix yourself," he commanded, his voice returning to its boardroom steel. "Julian doesn't get to see you like this. Not yet."

Elara scrambled to pull her silk blouse together, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. Her pussy was still throbbing, a rhythmic ache that reminded her of every inch of him. She felt branded. As she stood, a small trail of his claim slid down her inner thigh, making her shiver.

The double doors swung open before Alaric could even give the word. Julian Vane strolled in, the personification of "old money" arrogance. He was leaner than Alaric, with a face that was too handsome to be trusted and eyes that scanned the room like a thermal camera.

Julian's gaze immediately landed on Elara. He took in her swollen lips, the slight tremor in her hands, and the way her blouse was tucked in just a bit too hastily. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face.

"Alaric. I see the 'negotiations' for the Vance line were... hands-on," Julian drawled, his voice a smooth silk that made Elara's skin crawl. He walked toward her, stopping much too close, sniffing the air with blatant disrespect. "The scent of desperation and Alaric's cologne. A classic mix."

"You're overstepping, Julian," Alaric said, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave as he stepped behind Elara, placing a possessive hand on her shoulder. His thumb dug into the soft meat of her trap muscle. "Elara is under an exclusive contract. Everything she produces-and everything she is-belongs to Thorne Enterprises."

Julian laughed, a dry, melodic sound. "Contracts can be broken, Alaric. Or shared. I've always found your taste in women to be... impeccable. Though I prefer them a bit more broken in."

Julian reached out, his hand moving toward Elara's chin. Before he could touch her, Alaric caught his wrist in a grip that turned Julian's knuckles white. The air in the room turned frigid.

"Go to the lounge, Elara," Alaric said, not taking his eyes off Julian. "Seraphina is waiting for you there. She'll show you to your new quarters."

Elara didn't wait. She gathered her bag and hurried out, her heart hammering. As she reached the private elevator, she caught a glimpse of Julian whispering something to Alaric, his eyes tracking the sway of her hips until the doors slid shut.

The elevator descended to the 40th floor-the residential wing. When the doors opened, she wasn't met by a secretary, but by a woman who looked like a living masterpiece.

Seraphina was tall, with amber skin and hair like a waterfall of midnight silk. She was wearing a sheer, floor-length robe that did nothing to hide the fact that she was completely naked underneath. Her breasts were small, firm, and tipped with piercings that glinted in the light.

"So, you're the new one," Seraphina said, her voice a sultry purr. She walked around Elara, her eyes appraising. "Alaric has a type, doesn't he? Soft, heavy, and full of untapped hunger."

Seraphina reached out, her long, manicured fingers tracing the damp patch on Elara's skirt where Alaric's heat had soaked through. "He was rough with you. I can smell it. Come. Let's get you cleaned up. Alaric likes his women to be friends... and I find I'm in the mood for some company."

As Seraphina led her toward a bathroom that looked more like a Roman spa, Elara realized that the "Thorne Collection" wasn't just a metaphor. It was a harem of the elite, and she was the newest exhibit