Damian
The meeting dragged longer than it should have. Enzo knew better than to waste my time with excuses, but tonight even he looked unsettled, as though speaking about the shipment in front of me was walking barefoot across glass. Maybe it was.
By the time I left my office and returned upstairs, I was already on edge. The weight of numbers, routes, and names pressed in my skull. But when I opened the door to my room, everything shifted.
She was there.
Exactly where I had left her.
Elena.
Curled up small on the edge of my bed, her knees tucked to her chest, her arms wrapped around herself like she could hold the world out if she just squeezed tight enough. Her hair fell loose around her face, a curtain that couldn't quite hide the glimmer of tears on her cheeks.
The sight stopped me cold.
Not because she was crying. I'd seen people cry more times than I could count. Blood, snot, spit, broken bones—nothing new.
No. It was the way she looked in this room.
This kingdom of mine, built in black and white, iron and silk. A room designed to remind anyone who entered that this was my domain. Yet she didn't belong to it. She didn't blend into the sharp contrasts, the ruthless lines. She stood out like color against shadow—fragile, trembling, alive.
And I couldn't look away.
I closed the door behind me, the lock sliding into place again. Her head jerked up at the sound, her eyes going wide when she realized I was there. Fear flared instantly in those eyes, and I felt it like a spark down my spine.
"Are you comfortable?" My voice was low, even, but deliberately edged with something darker. A reminder.
She shook her head quickly, then froze, as though even that tiny defiance might anger me.
Good. She was learning.
I crossed the room, slow and deliberate, until I stood before her. She didn't move, but I could hear her breathing—shallow, uneven, the way a bird beats its wings against a cage.
I reached down and caught her chin, forcing her head up until our eyes locked. Her skin was warm under my fingers, her jaw trembling.
"You tried to escape once," I said softly, dangerously calm. "And you failed."
Her lips parted like she wanted to speak, maybe to beg, maybe to explain. I didn't let her.
"You're mine now, Elena. That's not a threat. It's a fact."
I let the words sink in, then brushed my thumb slowly along her jawline, a touch that was both intimate and cruel in its control. She flinched, her whole body stiffening, and I almost smiled.
"Running isn't an option anymore. From now on, you'll be under my watch. Closer than ever."
Her breath caught, and I leaned closer, lowering my voice until it was just for her.
"You'll sleep in this room. In my bed. Where I can keep an eye on you."
The way her eyes widened, the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed—that reaction was worth more than money, more than blood. Fear laced with something she didn't want to name.
I released her chin at last, straightening. She sagged slightly, as though my touch had been holding her up as much as pinning her down.
"This is your punishment, Elena. Not chains, not bruises. Just proximity." My gaze lingered on her, sharp and unyielding. "You'll eat with me. Sleep where I sleep. Breathe the same air I breathe. And maybe then you'll understand—there's no escaping Damian Moretti."
I turned away, heading toward the dresser to loosen my tie, though I could still feel her eyes on me.
The empire outside demanded my cruelty. My enemies demanded my fire. But this girl?
She demanded something else. Something I hadn't named yet.
And I hated how much I wanted to.
I loosened my tie, sliding it off with a sharp pull. The silence stretched thick across the room, broken only by the faint rustle of Elena shifting on the bed, as though she couldn't decide whether to stay frozen or bolt for the locked door.
I didn't look at her right away. Let her squirm. Let her feel the weight of my presence in her bones. Fear was a powerful teacher, and I intended to use it.
Finally, I turned.
She was still curled at the edge of the mattress, clutching her knees, her wide eyes never leaving me. Like a rabbit cornered by a wolf. Her fear poured off her in waves—tangible, intoxicating.
I shrugged out of my suit jacket, laying it neatly across the chair. My shirt stretched across my chest as I rolled my sleeves, exposing forearms lined with veins, muscles honed by years of violence and control. Her gaze darted there for half a second, then away, her cheeks flushing with something she didn't want me to see.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
"You should sleep," I said casually, undoing the first button of my shirt. "Tomorrow will be… long."
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She looked like she wanted to argue, to beg me to let her go, but terror sealed the words in her throat.
I stepped closer. She stiffened, her breath catching. I leaned down, one hand braced on the mattress beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat of me, smell the smoke and spice that clung to my skin.
"I can hear your heart," I murmured, my lips near her ear. "It's beating so fast I wonder how you haven't passed out already."
She shivered, pressing tighter into herself.
I tilted my head, studying her trembling form, then whispered, "Do you think I brought you here to hurt you?"
Her silence was answer enough.
I smiled faintly, though it held no warmth. "You'll learn, Elena. I don't waste time on things I don't want. And you—" my fingers brushed her chin again, tilting her face up, "—I want close. That's all you need to understand."
Her breath hitched, her lashes damp with unshed tears.
I released her, straightening, and stripped off the rest of my shirt, tossing it aside. Her eyes followed despite herself, and I caught it—the flicker she tried to hide. Not just fear. Curiosity. Something darker, forbidden.
Good.
I moved to the other side of the bed and sat down. The mattress dipped under my weight, making her stiffen even more.
"You'll stay here tonight," I said, my tone final. "Not because you want to. Because I decided it."
She swallowed hard, nodding once.
I lay back against the pillows, stretching out like a king on his throne. She stayed perched at the edge, stiff as a statue, as though moving even an inch closer would break her.
I let the silence drag before I spoke again, my voice low.
"If you try to run again, Elena… there won't be warnings. There won't be mercy. Do you understand?"
Her whisper was barely audible. "Yes."
I closed my eyes, though every part of me stayed alert, aware of her every breath, every twitch.
She thought this was punishment. She thought this was cruelty.
She didn't realize it yet, but it was something far worse.
Obsession.
And I was already too far gone to stop.