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A Conquest Foretold

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I had saved myself, faithfully waiting for the day my fiancé would propose. So the night I saw him emerge from a gay bar, tucked snugly under the beefy arm of another man, my world shattered. I waited at home all night. He finally strolled in, acting as if nothing was wrong. When I confronted him, he offered no explanation, no apology—nothing. Blind with rage, I yanked down his pants. What I found wasn't just a betrayal, but a bizarre humiliation: his manhood was locked away in an ugly, chastity-like cage. And he didn't even hold the key. Furious and heartbroken, I fled. But my own sister, my flesh and blood, drugged me and delivered me straight into the bed of my CEO. "See what you've done to me?" he rasped, his voice a low, insistent pressure in the dark. "I'm not letting you leave now. The faster you take care of this," he guided my hand, "the sooner we can both get back to work." A fiancé who stole my future. A sister who sold me out. And a boss accustomed to taking whatever—and whoever—he wants.

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