"Tell me again how your grandmother managed to book the entire first-class cabin for just the two of us?" Chloe teased, glancing over at Damian as the flight attendant discreetly closed the cabin door.

Damian smirked, his bright eyes meeting hers. "Elizabeth Scott has her ways. When you're the matriarch of one of the world's most influential families, doors tend to open—or in this case, cabins clear out."

Chloe chuckled, leaning back into the plush leather seat. "She's certainly made our honeymoon unforgettable so far."

He reached over, his fingers brushing a strand of dark hair from her face. "Just wait until we land in Zurich. The experience she's arranged will surpass everything."

She raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her gaze. "Bigger than the private tour of the Louvre last year? Or the dinner at that castle in Tuscany?"

Damian's lips curved into a confident smile. "Much bigger."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she accused lightly.

He leaned in closer, his voice a low murmur. "Seeing you happy? Always."

A warmth spread through her chest. "You know, for a notorious bad boy, you have a surprisingly soft side."

"Only with you," he replied, kissing her mouth.

***

The black Rolls-Royce Phantom purred to a halt outside The Dolder Grand, an exquisite hotel nestled on a hill high above Zurich. Chloe stepped out, her loose dress swirling in the afternoon breeze, brushing her legs as she paced over the cobblestones with her glittered tweed pink Chanel ballet flats. Her morning sickness had eased, and she started enjoying the glow of pregnancy.

"Elizabeth sure has expensive taste with picking places," Chloe remarked, admiring the majestic architecture overlooking the city. "Lagerfeld, Jimmy Choo, the Rolling Stones, and Churchill... Didn't they stay here?"

"Yep. My grandparents have dined with celebrities and global leaders here. At the end of the day, people are people," Damian responded nonchalantly.

"But still. Wow. Elizabeth has style."

"She wants the best for us."

Chloe wrinkled her nose. "It takes time to adjust to your world. But you're used to this, and I'm just Chloe."

"And I'm just Damian, a man in love with the enchanting Chloe Carter. This is our world, babe. Plus, you're going to make every man in this hotel wish they were me," he boasted, showing off his pearly whites.

She glanced up at him, her pulse quickening.

Damian Scott was trouble wrapped in sin—his jaw sharp, and that 'sexy as hell' dark blond stubble framing a mouth that carried just the right amount of arrogance. That mouth had kissed the junction of her thighs countless times. His special place. His shirt collar, crisp with a hint of cologne, was unbuttoned just enough to show a glimpse of hard, tanned skin. The glint in his green eyes dared her to test his limits.

"Every man?" Chloe teased, tilting her head. "You sure about that?"

His smirk deepened, eyes flicking over her slowly, deliberately. "I'm sure of one thing. They can look, but I'm the only one who gets to touch."

"You dirty boy," Chloe breathed into his ear, her hand sneakily pinching his hard ass cheek.

"Dirty gets me places," he shot back, grinning as he pulled her into him.

There was no escape.

Damian was her seducer—a sorcerer with intense sex appeal and captivating charm.

With one hand on her back, Damian steered her toward the grand entrance, where the hotel staff snapped to attention. He moved like he owned the place, his presence drawing quiet glances, but he paid them no mind. He didn't need validation; he carried it with him.

Inside, the lobby exuded quiet, old-world luxury blended with a touch of art and modernism. The marble floor glistened under a chandelier, and soft murmurs filled the air. But none of it registered in Chloe's mind. All she felt was the heat of Damian's hand at her waist, the way his thumb traced lazy circles, igniting a burn that refused to cool.

They approached the private elevator, and when the doors slid shut, Damian's grip tightened. He turned her, pinning her back against the mirrored wall with a subtle but unrelenting force. His green eyes were dark, heavy with ardor, as his thumb grazed her lower lip.

"When you tempt me, you're playing with fire," he growled.

Chloe met his hungry stare with a knowing smile. "I'm testing if you can keep up."

His eyes flashed with amusement, his lips parting into an alluring smile as he leaned closer, his breathing warm against her neck. "I don't keep up, Chloe. I set the pace."

Before she could respond, his hand slid beneath the fabric of her dress, fingertips brushing her panties. His lips grazed her ear as his groin pushed against her. "Soon, you're going to feel every inch of my cock."

Her pulse thundered in her ears, and just as her body began to arch toward him, the elevator chimed, announcing their arrival. The doors slid open, and Damian's eyes remained fixed on her as he led her out of the elevator and into the suite.

Chloe's jaw dropped at the sight of the suite. "Oh, my God. Dami, this is just stunning! It's two floors of heaven."

"The Maestro suite is one of my grandmother's favorite getaway places," Damian answered, stroking Chloe's hair. "There's a library here, too. I know how much you love to read. And a private lounge terrace with a view of the city, the lake, and the Swiss Alps."

The suite was pure indulgence—the sleek furniture blending modern design with the old-world elegance of leather seating. But Chloe barely had a moment to take it in before Damian had her backed up against the wall, his body pressed intimately against hers.

"You like pushing me, don't you?" His lips grazed the side of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

Chloe smirked, fingers teasing the collar of his shirt as her breath quickened. "I think deep down, you want to be pushed."

His hands slid down to her hips, pulling her hard against him, his mouth hovering just inches from hers. "You think you're in control here?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Depends. Would you ever switch?"

"No more talk," Damian groaned. His eyes darkened, and in a flash, his mouth was on hers, rough, demanding. His hands gripped her waist, lifting her as her legs instinctively wrapped around him. The heat between them was all-consuming, leaving no room for thought, just the raw pull of him, the way her name sounded when it fell from his lips.

The world outside vanished as they stumbled toward the main bedroom, Zurich's lights forgotten beyond the window as the sun began to set. Every touch, every breath—how they consumed each other—how everything else faded away when they were like this.

Damian fulfilled her.

***

The following day, Chloe strolled along Zurich's prestigious Bahnhofstrasse, the iconic storefronts shining under the crisp autumn sun. Her sleek, tailored black coat kept her warm from the wind sailing through, creating a cool draft in the city. Damian had a business meeting with an old friend, Nate Spencer from Vanguard Suisse Bank, leaving behind a note:

Off to deal with Nate. Try not to bankrupt Zurich before lunch.

Chloe smirked as she tucked the note into her purse. She wandered through the heart of the luxury district, savoring the freedom to indulge without restraint.

It wasn't long before she stood before a high-end fashion boutique. The glass doors opened automatically, and she stepped inside, immediately enveloped by the familiar scent of leather and sophistication. The shop's mirrored walls, plush carpets, and racks of finely crafted handbags and couture pieces gave an intimidating sense of luxury.

Chloe trailed her fingers along the delicate edges of a limited-edition handbag, admiring the smooth, buttery leather. She was absorbed in her thoughts when a sales assistant behind the counter strode toward her with a tight smile. Chloe didn't miss the fleeting flash of judgment in her eyes.

"May I help you, Madame?" the assistant asked, her voice cool and distant. Her use of the word Madame felt like an insult disguised as politeness.

Chloe kept her smile in place. "I'd like to see your exclusive collection," she replied, her tone calm but direct, her gaze steady as she met the woman's eyes.

The assistant's brow furrowed as her eyes flicked over Chloe. When she spoke again, her tone was filled with the kind of patronizing politeness Chloe had heard too many times before. It was a microaggression often from people who assumed she didn't understand Western culture because of her Asian appearance. "Perhaps we can start with something more... accessible? Over here, we have some classic pieces that may be—how should I say—more within reach."

Chloe's heart gave a single thud of disbelief. Yet, she remained composed. The smile on her lips sharpened as she caught the subtle condescension in the woman's words. Her fingers trailed over the bag she had been admiring before. She could feel the eyes of other customers on her now, some whispering behind perfectly manicured hands.

"I don't think you understand," Chloe said, clearing her throat. Her gaze locked onto the assistant, unflinching. "I asked for your best. Not for what you think I can afford."

The woman blinked, her smile faltering as the words sank in. There was a brief flicker of discomfort behind her eyes, but she recovered, giving a tight-lipped smile as she gestured toward a different display—still not the exclusive section Chloe had requested. "Of course, Madame. Let me show you some of our popular items."

Chloe raised an eyebrow, her patience wearing thin, but before she could respond, another sales associate—a manager by the looks of his impeccably tailored suit and air of authority—approached swiftly, his face already colored with understanding.

"Is there a problem here?" he asked, his tone polite but edged with concern as his gaze flicked between Chloe and the assistant.

"No problem at all," Chloe said smoothly, turning her attention to the manager. "Though I did request to see your most exclusive pieces. My husband's grandmother, Elizabeth Scott, suggested I try this store for a new handbag."

The manager's eyes widened as he looked back at the assistant, who had suddenly gone pale. Then, his gaze returned to Chloe, and recognition flickered across his face. It was clear he knew exactly who she was now.

"Miss Carter," he said quickly, his tone filled with sudden deference. "I apologize for any misunderstanding. Please, allow me to personally show you our finest collection. We would be honored."

Chloe didn't bother hiding the satisfaction that flickered in her eyes as she nodded, but she didn't immediately follow him. Instead, she turned her attention back to the assistant. "You should start reading books about customer service. Try The Paradox of Choice or The Thank You Economy."

The woman's face flushed a deep red, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find the right words. "I—I didn't realize—" she stammered, her confidence crumbling beneath her misjudgment.

Chloe leaned in just a fraction, her eyes blazing. "Next time, don't assume."

With that, she turned on her heel and followed the manager, who led her to a section roped off by velvet curtains, where rare, limited-edition pieces sat behind glass displays like museum exhibits. As he opened the case and handed her a one-of-a-kind handbag, Chloe ran her fingers over the soft leather, her earlier irritation dissolving into satisfaction.

The world might judge her by her skin and heritage, but Chloe knew her worth—and it had nothing to do with the price tags in this boutique. She was Chloe Carter, someone who never had to beg for anyone's respect.

***

A few nights later, Chloe stood before the full-length mirror, fastening the delicate clasps of the diamond earrings that shimmered with every movement. The gems caught the light, throwing tiny stars across the room, their brilliance undeniable. Elizabeth Scott's mark was all over them—decades of family wealth embodied in the flawless stones.

Chloe's fingers brushed her collarbone, feeling the cool metal graze her skin as she adjusted her necklace. Her gown—a gift from Elizabeth, too—was pure elegance. The black fabric clung to her body in all the right places, making room for the gentle swell of her pregnancy while drawing attention to her slender neck and rounded shoulders. The material flowed with each step she took, soft and rich, like it had been spun from midnight itself. The high neckline contrasted with the dangerously low cut at the back, exposing a sliver of bare skin.

She turned, catching the glimmer of the city lights through the window, the reflection casting her silhouette in shadow and light. Her hand rested over her abdomen, a private gesture, as if grounding herself amid the opulence she now lived in.

And then she felt him.

Damian stood in the doorway, silent, but owning the room as if he had been standing there all along. His gaze roved over her, taking in every inch as though he memorized how the dress kissed her curves. His black dinner jacket fit like it was made by a tailor who understood not just fabric but the power that came with wearing it. The crisp white shirt underneath accentuated his athletic frame.

The cufflinks on his sleeves caught the light, small flashes of silver hinting at the man's precise taste—understated but powerful. And yet, none of that commanded attention the way his presence did. There was something about how he stood, hands casually tucked into his pockets, the slight raise of his brow, the curve of his lips—like he knew the effect he had on her.

He pushed off the doorframe with a languid grace, stepping closer, his movements smooth, predatory.

"You're trying to kill me," he murmured, his lips grazing her ear as he came up behind her.

Chloe's heart quickened, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she met his gaze in the mirror, a smile curling at the corners of her lips. "It's just a dress, Dami."

He tilted his head, his eyes glinting. "No," he whispered, his fingers ghosting over her back's bare skin. "It's never just a dress when it's you."

Her breath caught at his touch, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing. Instead, she straightened, turning in his arms as her hand slid up the lapel of his jacket. "If you don't behave, we'll be late for dinner."

His grin was teasing. "Let them wait."

Chloe's lips twitched, her heart racing as his hand pressed against the curve of her waist, pulling her flush against him. "We can't keep Nate waiting forever."

Damian's eyes darkened, the hunger unmistakable. "Nate can wait a little longer."

***

A/N: I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Dami and Chloe need time to enjoy and get to know each other better on their honeymoon before returning to Lester Harbor. Ugh, I'm dreading what's in store for them.