The car was silent, save for the smooth hum of the engine and the storm building outside the tinted windows.
Leila sat pressed against the far door of the back seat, her wrists aching from the discreet cuffs Dominic had clicked on her with clinical ease. Not tight enough to bruise,but snug enough to remind her she wasn't free.
He sat beside her, legs spread, jacket off, sleeves rolled, like he hadn't just carried her out of a five-star hotel like a possession. He hadn't spoken a word since they'd left.
She needed control. Any scrap of it.
So she leaned back, crossed her legs, and slowly turned toward him.
"You know," she said, her voice carefully light, "there are better ways to get a woman's attention."
His head turned. Those eyes landed on her again…gray, unreadable, dangerous.
"Stealing eight million usually works," he said dryly.
She smiled. Flirty. Calculated.
"And threatening her? Carrying her off like some villain from a dark fairytale?" Her voice dropped, husky. "Is that your kink, Mr. Raine?"
A flicker of something-amusement, maybe,passed across his face.
"You don't want to know what my kink is," he said quietly.
"But I'm curious." She shifted, letting the silk of her dress slide higher over her thigh. "You went to a lot of trouble to catch me. Maybe you want something more than just your money back."
His gaze dropped for a beat,to her legs, her lips,then snapped back to her eyes.
"You're trying to seduce me."
She gave a casual shrug. "Is it working?"
Dominic leaned in suddenly, so fast and close her breath hitched. His hand slid up her leg, slow and deliberate, until his palm rested just beneath the hem of her dress.
Her heart thundered.
"Careful," he whispered. "If you're offering your body as payment, I'll take it."
Her mouth went dry.
"But," he added, pulling back, face now unreadable again, "I don't accept lies as currency. You think you're playing a game. You're not."
He turned away, just as the car turned off the main road and onto a winding, tree-lined drive.
Leila's facade cracked just slightly.
Because ahead, through the mist and shadow, rose a mansion that looked more like a fortress—stone walls, iron gates, and lights that glowed like fire through tall windows.
Not a home.
A kingdom.
And she was no longer the thief.
She was the prize.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The grand doors closed behind her with a final, echoing boom.
Leila stood in the foyer, soaked from the rain, arms crossed tightly under her chest as Dominic shrugged off his coat and tossed it to a waiting man who vanished without a word.
The estate was cold stone and darker luxury,sharp lines, tall ceilings, and an atmosphere that seemed to hum with power.
She turned to him. "So? What now? You chain me to a wall? Make me dance for you?"
Dominic raised a brow. "If I wanted a dancer, I'd have bought one."
He stepped closer, circling her slowly.
"No, Leila. You're here for a much simpler reason." His voice dropped. "You owe me."
"I'll give it back," she snapped. "The money's untouched—"
He laughed. Once. Low and cruel.
"You think this is about money?" He stopped in front of her, and the room felt smaller. "You took something from me. Violated my world. My system. My trust in the idea that I couldn't be reached."
He leaned in.
"You don't pay for that with dollars."
"Then what?" she whispered.
His eyes burned into hers.
"Six months. Here. With me. Under my command. You eat when I say. Sleep when I say. Work where I place you. No games. No escape. You earn your freedom one day at a time."
She swallowed hard.
"And if I say no?"
Dominic's smile was slow and terrifying.
"Then I send every trace of your little heist to the authorities. And you rot in a cell while I buy the prison you sleep in."
Leila clenched her fists, chin lifting.
"And if I say yes?"
His eyes softened, just slightly.
"Then we'll see what else you're good at besides breaking rules."
~~~~~~~~~~
The room was too beautiful to feel like a prison.
That made it worse.
Velvet drapes, a four-poster bed with silk sheets, gold accents laced through carved wood. A walk-in closet larger than her old apartment, already stocked with clothes that fit her perfectly. He had planned all of this.
Leila stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, staring at the closed door.
Locked.
Of course.
She pressed her ear against it. Silence. Then, footsteps—measured, echoing—fading down the hall.
He was leaving her alone.
For now.
She exhaled and moved fast. Checked the windows (sealed). The vent (screwed shut). The closet, the drawers, even behind the mirror. No surveillance she could see.
But she didn't trust it.
She never did.
Her laptop and gear had been confiscated, but she'd already clocked the hidden panel under the dresser. A pressure trigger, probably biometric. It hummed faintly when she touched it.
She smiled.
Challenge accepted.
She paced the room once, then stopped by the nightstand. A small silver bell sat on top of it, next to a folded card in thick cream paper. Her name was written in clean, black script.
She opened it.
"Ring if you need anything.
Or if you're ready to start earning."
—D.R.
She rolled her eyes. "Prick."
Still, her fingers hovered over the bell longer than she liked to admit.
⸻
Midnight.
She hadn't tried to sleep.
Instead, Leila spent hours testing—every inch of the floor plan, every hidden seam. Her fingers were itching for a keyboard, but for now, her mind was the weapon.
Then came the sound.
A quiet knock.
She froze.
The door creaked open. Dominic's silhouette filled the frame, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled high. His presence dragged the temperature down and spiked her pulse all at once.
"You haven't rung," he said, stepping in. "I expected more curiosity."
"I don't play fetch," she said flatly.
He smirked. "You break into systems guarded by military-grade encryption, but you're afraid of a little obedience?"
"I'm not afraid of anything."
"Good." He closed the door behind him. "Then let's set the tone."
He stepped closer. Slow. Measured. A predator testing prey.
"You have one rule for tonight," he said. "Stay in this room. Cross the threshold, and the six months resets."
She arched a brow. "That's it?"
"For now."
She stared at him, trying to read more. "And what if I walk out anyway?"
He leaned in, close enough for her to feel his breath. "Then I'll assume you're aching to be punished."
Something about the way he said punished made her knees tighten together.
She didn't respond.
He didn't wait.
He turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.
And for a full minute, Leila just stood there.
Then,smiling to herself,she walked straight to the door, opened it an inch… and stuck her foot out into the hallway.
Just her toes.
Just enough to cross the line.
The alarm didn't sound.
But her body froze.
Because behind her, in the shadows of the darkened room, Dominic spoke—low and calm.
"I admire your curiosity," he said. "But you should know something, Leila."
She turned, heart in her throat.
He stepped forward again, out of the shadows like he never left, eyes darker than before.
"I always know when you disobey."