The silence in the room stretched like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap.
Eva stood still, heart thudding against her ribs as the door clicked shut behind Enzo. The sound echoed through the polished marble like a verdict. He didn't speak at first he just looked at her. That same unreadable expression, that calculating calm that hid storms behind his silver gaze.
She hated how her body responded to it.
He looked like sin wrapped in silk. A tailored charcoal suit hugged his broad shoulders, the collar of his shirt open, revealing the edge of the ink curling across his throat. The same tattoo she'd felt under her fingers. The one she swore she'd forget.
She hadn't.
"You're settling in," Enzo finally said, eyes drifting over the cream sweater she wore and the teacup on the table.
It wasn't a question. Just a statement. Like everything with him controlled, measured, inevitable.
Eva swallowed hard. "You tricked me."
"I didn't lie," he said smoothly. "I said you'd be compensated. And you are."
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the chair. "You didn't say I'd be working here. At your… palace."
A flicker of amusement touched his lips. "You make it sound like a prison."
"Isn't it?" she shot back, breath catching. "You knew I wouldn't have come if I knew the truth."
Enzo walked closer, each step deliberate. Controlled. Dangerous.
"I knew you'd come if you needed the money," he said quietly, pausing in front of her. "And I made sure you did."
Eva's breath caught. Her fists clenched at her sides.
"Why?" she asked.
He tilted his head, studying her like a puzzle he hadn't quite solved. "Because one night wasn't enough."
Her eyes narrowed. "You already paid for one."
"I don't want to pay anymore," he said simply. "I want to keep you."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
Enzo reached into his jacket and pulled out a small black velvet box. He didn't open it, just set it gently on the table between them like it was nothing at all.
"Luxury suite. Designer wardrobe. A private chef. And access to anything you want on one condition."
Eva stared at the box like it might explode. "What condition?"
He smiled faintly. "You stay here. With me."
Her stomach flipped. "As what? Your mistress?"
"No," he said, voice cool. "As mine."
"Yours?" Her voice cracked. "What the hell does that mean?"
His gaze sharpened. "It means no one else touches you. No one else sees you like I have. It means I protect you, provide for you, and you belong to me. No lies. No pretending."
She stared at him, stunned. "That's not love, Enzo. That's ownership."
His jaw tightened. "I never said anything about love."
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Of course not."
The room went still. Her breathing was ragged now, emotions swirling too fast to catch. Anger. Confusion. Need. The way he looked at her wasn't lust it was obsession. And the worst part? Her body betrayed her all over again.
The heat. The ache. The longing.
"I'm not a toy," she said hoarsely. "You can't buy me."
"I'm not trying to buy you," he replied. "I'm offering you freedom in a golden cage. You'd never want again."
"I don't want this," she whispered.
His eyes searched hers for the lie he hoped to find. But Eva didn't lie. Not with her mouth.
Her body, though, was another story.
The air thickened between them. He stepped forward slowly, deliberately, as if giving her time to run. She didn't. Couldn't.
"I see the way you look at me," Enzo murmured. "You want this. Even if you hate that you do."
"Shut up," she breathed, trembling.
He was so close now, she could feel his breath. It smelled like cedar and smoke, like everything sinful she'd tasted that night she was supposed to forget.
"I'll never hurt you," he said. "Not unless you want me to."
Her lips parted, but no words came.
"I don't do relationships. I don't do hearts and flowers. I don't do sweet." His voice dropped to a whisper. "But I'll ruin you for anyone else."
She should've walked away.
Should've screamed.
Instead, she whispered, "You already have."
Enzo reached up, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers traced her cheek, then slid down to her jaw.
"You can leave now, Eva," he said. "But if you stay, there's no going back."
She stared at him, throat tight, heart breaking open and flooding everything with heat and confusion and hunger.
"I hate that I want you," she whispered.
He smiled faintly. "Then stop pretending you don't."
She didn't know who moved first. Maybe it was both of them. One second, her feet were frozen. The next, his mouth was on hers.
There was nothing gentle about it.
His lips crushed hers with a fury that felt like ownership, like punishment, like need gone rabid. She gasped, and he took it as invitation, deepening the kiss, claiming every inch of her mouth like it belonged to him.
Her hands fisted his shirt. She didn't push him away.
She pulled him closer.
And when his tongue slid against hers, she let it. Welcomed it. Matched him.
Because he was right.
She wanted him.
Even if it meant her ruin.