Elena
The moment my heels touched the marble floors, I knew I didn't belong here.
Everything gleamed too brightly, too perfectly—the kind of wealth you only ever see in movies or magazines. Crystal chandeliers glittered above like frozen stars. Black marble reflected my pale face, my wide, terrified eyes. The walls wore paintings older than me, each one whispering of power and bloodlines and money I couldn't even imagine.
I felt like a stain on this perfection. A mistake that had been dragged in and dropped at the feet of a man who could erase me with a word.
Damian walked ahead of me, slow, deliberate, every step echoing like a command. His suit clung to him like it had been stitched directly to his body. Even the way he moved was intimidating—quiet power, dangerous grace. He didn't have to speak to remind me who owned this place. Who owned me.
My heart pounded so hard I thought it might bruise my ribs.
One of his men touched my arm, guiding me toward the grand staircase. I jerked back instinctively, panic flashing hot, but Damian only turned his head slightly, his dark eyes pinning me where I stood.
That look froze me more than the guard's grip.
So I let them lead me up the staircase, my legs trembling, knees threatening to buckle. I should've been screaming. I should've been fighting harder. But the truth was—I couldn't stop replaying the sight of Damian's hand stretched out toward me earlier. The way I'd placed mine in his without even thinking, like his gravity had pulled me in.
Why had I done that?
The hallway upstairs was long, lined with more doors than I could count, each one carved with gold handles. Finally, we stopped at one. A guard opened it, revealing a bedroom larger than my entire apartment.
White silk sheets spilled across a bed big enough for three people. Heavy curtains framed windows that looked out onto gardens glowing faintly in the moonlight. A fireplace flickered, warming the air.
It was beautiful. And yet… all I saw was a cage.
The guard released me, but I didn't move. My feet rooted to the polished floor.
Then Damian's voice cut through the silence.
"Stay here tonight."
I turned. He leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, his gaze sharp enough to slice through me. He looked devastatingly handsome under the glow of the chandelier. So handsome it hurt to look at him.
"But—" My voice cracked. I swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "Why me?"
For a moment, silence stretched. His lips curved—not a smile, not exactly. More like a shadow of one.
"Fate," he said simply. Then, tilting his head, "Or maybe punishment."
The way he said it made my blood run cold.
I wanted to scream at him, to demand he let me go. But all I could do was stand there, trembling, my fists curling at my sides. My body screamed fear, but something inside me whispered something else. Something dangerous.
Because underneath the terror, there was an ache. A pull I didn't understand. The way his voice slid over my skin like velvet and fire. The way his eyes held mine as if he could see everything—my secrets, my shame, my weakness.
I hated it. I hated him.
And yet, when he finally turned to leave, a part of me wanted him to stay.
The door shut with a soft click, and the lock slid into place.
Only then did I sink onto the bed, my chest heaving. My hands gripped the silk sheets so tightly my knuckles burned.
This wasn't safety. This wasn't luxury. This was a prison dressed in gold.
But worse than that…
I wasn't sure which terrified me more: the thought of escaping this man.
Or the thought of what might happen if I didn't want to.