My breath catches in my throat.
I freeze, completely, hopelessly still.
What am I supposed to do with a gun pointed at my forehead?
My back presses into the wall, the cool metal of the elevator button digging into my spine. Aiden Hernandez doesn't blink. The barrel of his gun doesn't waver. His eyes are ice, darker than I imagined they could be dangerous, unreadable.
"Wait, please," I stammer, voice barely audible. My hands rise instinctively, trembling. "I didn't mean to—"
"Quiet." His voice is soft. Deadly.
And it silences me instantly.
I've heard rumors. Everyone in the city has. Aiden Hernandez; young, insanely rich, a CEO made of smoke and secrets. Some say he inherited his father's empire. Others say he took it.
I used to think those rumors were exaggerated.
I was wrong.
He looks away from me, his gaze drifting to the wall covered in my photos. My face. My life. Caught in time from angles I didn't know existed.
A shiver ripples through me.
"Who are you really?" he asks, stepping closer.
"I'm just a courier," I manage. "It's a temp job. I—I don't even work for the hotel. It's one delivery. That's all."
My voice cracks.
He stares at me for a long, hard second. Then, finally, he lowers the gun.
I don't dare move. My legs threaten to collapse.
"Turn around," he orders.
I hesitate.
"Now."
Slowly, I turn, expecting pain. Expecting a bullet. Instead, I hear the shuffle of his steps as he walks past me.
He picks up the envelope I dropped and tears it open with one hand. His brow twitches as he scans the paper inside. Then, without a word, he crumples it and tosses it to the floor like trash.
"What did you see?" he asks.
I turn back toward him slowly. "Just… the photos. That's it. I swear. I didn't take anything. I—I didn't even know—"
"You saw enough."
I want to bolt. To scream. To disappear. But I just stand there, paralyzed under his stare.
Then he sighs. Not tired. Calculated.
"I can't let you leave."
My chest tightens. "Wait, what? No—please, I won't tell anyone. I won't breathe a word. I don't even know what any of this means—"
He crosses the room, pulls open a sleek drawer near the minibar, and retrieves a black phone.
He dials. One ring. Then: "She's staying."
Pause.
"Clear the elevators."
Click. He hangs up.
"You'll stay here tonight." His voice is cold. Unmoving.
I blink. "What? No! I have a life, I—"
"You had a life," he corrects. "It changed the moment you stepped through that door."
My breath shortens. I look at the door, the hallway, anything.
He turns his back to me and starts typing something on a glass tablet.
"You're safe…, for now," he adds.
"But if you try to leave, I won't hesitate next time."
It isn't a threat. It's a fact.
"Why are you doing this?" I ask.
He turns, slowly. His expression is unreadable, carved in stone.
"Because, Serina Davies…" he says softly.
My heart stops.
He knows my name.
I never told him.
A silence stretches between us—long, suffocating.
"I never—how do you know my name?" I whisper.
He doesn't answer. Just watches me.
"You had this planned?" My voice sharpens. "You planned for me to walk in here?"
"I didn't," he admits. "But someone else might have."
"What does that mean?"
"It means…" He closes the distance between us slowly. "Someone wanted you in this room. And I want to know why."
He's too close. His scent is expensive cologne and something darker, gunpowder and blood, maybe. My instincts scream at me to run.
But my feet won't move.
Then I spot a security camera in the top corner of the room, hidden, barely noticeable.
"Because, Serina Davies… someone went to great lengths to get you here. And I intend to find out why."
And I believe him.
Because whatever I've been dragged into?
It's only just beginning.
I take a shaky breath. "You think someone sent me?"
"Yes."
"I don't even know you."
"Exactly," he replies. "Which is why you showing up… is a problem."
I stare at him. "Then let me go. Let me prove I'm not part of whatever this is."
"No." His voice hardens. "Until I know everything, you will stay."
I walk to the windows, needing distance. The city sprawls below in glowing lines of gold and shadow. I wonder if anyone even noticed me disappear.
Probably not.
"How long are you going to keep me here?" I ask.
"As long as it takes."
He moves to the bar, pours something dark into a glass. He drinks like he's done this before—imprisoned someone before. Controlled them.
"Where will I sleep?"
He points down the hall. "There's a guest room. First door on the right."
I hesitate. "And if I say no?"
His eyes meet mine again. "Then I'll make you."
The room tilts for a second. This isn't some overprotective CEO. This is a man used to owning people.
I back toward the hallway.
"Goodnight, Serina," he says softly. Like it's a joke.
I step into the guest room and shut the door. There's no lock. I jam a chair under the handle anyway.
I collapse onto the edge of the bed, mind spinning. How did this happen?
I reach for my phone, but it's gone. Probably taken when I wasn't looking.