The work event was supposed to be boring. A sleek rooftop lounge downtown, string lights twinkling against the night skyline, open bar, and colleagues in business casual pretending they weren’t networking aggressively. 

Alex had dragged himself there for the sake of the mixed-use project—his bold curved-glass concept was gaining traction, and the partners wanted him visible.

He hadn’t expected the flirting. His boss, Jordan Hale—thirty-four, sharp-suited, openly gay, and known for his charm—had been circling him all evening. 

At first it was professional: compliments on the latest revisions, questions about design influences. Then it shifted. 

“You’ve got a real eye for tension and release in your lines,” Jordan said, leaning against the bar beside Alex, whiskey glass in hand. 

His smile was easy, appreciative. “Makes me wonder what else you bring that kind of intensity to.”

Alex laughed politely, swirling his drink. “Just trying to make the buildings breathe.”

Jordan’s gaze lingered. “I bet you do the same in your personal life.”The comment was light, but the intent behind it wasn’t. 

Alex felt a flicker of discomfort—not because Jordan wasn’t attractive (he was), but because every cell in his body already belonged to someone else. 

Someone currently not supposed to exist in public.He was about to deflect when his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

A quick glance at the screen made his stomach flip.

Dami: Saw the story. Who’s the guy leaning too close?

Alex had forgotten Lena had tagged him in an Instagram story earlier—him and Jordan at the bar, laughing. 

Innocent on the surface. Poisonous underneath. Alex typed quickly under the bar.

Alex: Boss. Work thing. Nothing. 

The three dots appeared instantly.

Dami: Looks like more than nothing. Before Alex could reply, Jordan touched his arm lightly. “Another drink? My treat.”

Across town, Dami was fuming.

He sat in the back room of the bar where he worked, phone gripped tight, the Instagram story playing on loop in his mind. 

Alex looking relaxed, handsome in a fitted button-down, while some polished suit leaned in like he had every right to. 

The caption had been harmless—“Team night out”—but the image burned.

Dami wasn’t used to this. Jealousy wasn’t his usual flavor. He’d always kept things casual, never let anyone close enough to matter. 

But Alex had changed that. Alex made him want to claim, to mark, to make sure the world knew those smiles belonged to him.

By 10:30 p.m., he couldn’t take it anymore. He clocked out early, lied about a family emergency, and drove straight to the event venue. 

He didn’t have an invite, but the rooftop lounge wasn’t exclusive enough to stop a determined man in dark jeans and a black leather jacket. 

He slipped in through the side entrance, blending with the catering staff until he spotted Alex near the railing overlooking the city.

Alex was still talking to Jordan. The boss’s hand rested casually on the small of Alex’s back as he pointed out some architectural feature in the distance.

Dami’s blood ignited. He moved through the crowd like smoke, eyes locked on his target. When he was close enough, he stepped into Alex’s space from behind, voice low and edged with possession.

“Hey. Didn’t know you’d be here so late.” Alex startled, turning sharply. His eyes widened in a mix of shock and instant heat.

 “Dami—what are you doing here?” 

Jordan glanced between them, eyebrow raised. “Friend of yours?” Dami didn’t smile.

 “Something like that.” His hand slid possessively around Alex’s waist, fingers pressing just hard enough to remind. “Can I steal him for a minute?”

Jordan’s expression cooled, but he nodded professionally. “Of course. Alex, we’ll continue that conversation tomorrow.”

The moment Jordan walked away, Alex rounded on Dami, voice a furious whisper. “Are you insane? This is my work event. You can’t just show up and—”

“And what?” Dami backed him against the railing, bodies close but not touching enough to draw attention. “Let some suit put his hands on you while I sit at home knowing exactly how you sound when you come?”

Alex’s breath hitched. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Looked like that.” Dami’s eyes darkened, jealousy and desire twisting together. “You’re mine, Alex. Even if we have to hide it. Especially because we have to hide it.”

The words sent a shiver down Alex’s spine. He glanced around—colleagues scattered in small groups, no one paying them direct attention yet. “Not here.”

“Then where?” Dami’s hand brushed Alex’s hip, hidden by the angle of their bodies. “Because I’m two seconds from dragging you into the bathroom and reminding you who you belong to.”

Heat flooded Alex’s face. The risk was insane, but the possessiveness in Dami’s voice made his knees weak. 

“My car. Basement parking. Five minutes.” 

Dami’s smirk was dark and satisfied. “Don’t make me wait.”

They separated. Alex made quick excuses to his team—early morning tomorrow, headache starting—while Dami slipped out first. 

By the time Alex reached the dimly lit parking garage, Dami was already waiting beside his car, leaning against the driver’s door like he owned it. The second they were both inside, doors locked, Dami was on him.

He climbed over the console, pushing Alex’s seat back as far as it would go, and kissed him hard—tongue sliding deep, teeth nipping at his lower lip. Hands roamed greedily, unbuttoning Alex’s shirt just enough to expose skin.

“You let him touch you,” Dami growled between kisses, sucking a fresh mark onto Alex’s neck, right where his collar would barely hide it.

 “Right here. Where only I get to touch.” Alex moaned, hands fisting in Dami’s jacket. 

“He didn’t—fuck—Dami, it was nothing.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Dami’s hand slid down, palming Alex through his slacks, stroking firmly. 

“You’re hard for me now. Only me.” He freed Alex with quick, efficient movements, wrapping a calloused hand around him and stroking with perfect pressure. Alex’s head fell back against the seat, hips bucking up into the touch. 

Dami watched him with hungry eyes. “That’s it. Let me see how much you need this. Need me.”

Alex came fast and hard, biting Dami’s shoulder to muffle his cry, spilling over Dami’s fist. The sight pushed Dami over the edge—he stroked himself once, twice, and came with a low groan, marking Alex’s stomach in hot pulses.

They stayed slumped together in the cramped car, breathing hard, foreheads pressed close. “Jealous asshole,” Alex whispered, but there was no heat in it—only affection and lingering pleasure.

Dami kissed him softly this time, thumb brushing a streak of come from Alex’s skin. “Yours. Completely.” 

Later, back at Alex’s apartment, they showered together—slow, soapy hands washing away the evidence. Under the warm spray, Dami pulled Alex close again, voice quieter now.

“I know I shouldn’t have shown up. But seeing someone else want you…” He swallowed. “It scares me how much I need you to be only mine.”

Alex cupped his face, water streaming down both of them. “I am. Even when we’re hiding. Especially then.” They made love slowly that night—Dami taking his time, whispering possessive words and tender promises against Alex’s skin until the jealousy burned itself into something warmer, deeper.

But as they lay tangled in the sheets afterward, the flame flickered with new awareness.

Jealousy had a way of making secrets harder to keep.And sooner or later, the fire would demand to be seen.