~~Ricardo's POV~~
Control. That was the essence of everything I'd built my life upon. Control over markets, over boardrooms, over men who swore they were too proud to kneel and then learned the taste of their own pride when I made them crawl. Control over enemies who thought they could outplay me, and control over silence, the quiet terror that comes when people realize I know more than they ever wanted me to.
But now, my control had narrowed into something far more dangerous. One girl. One fragile, trembling little creature with dark eyes that gave away everything she tried to hide. Anastasia Texas. The daughter of the man who destroyed my family. My enemy's blood. My prey.
And yet, when I looked at her, I didn't just see vengeance. I saw fear, and that fear ignited something darker than rage. It tasted sweeter than revenge. It tasted like possession.
I sat in my study long after midnight, the city lights sprawling endlessly beyond the glass walls, a tumbler of whiskey in my hand. Her face wouldn't leave me. Not the way she dropped her gaze when mine caught hers, not the stiffness in her shoulders when I deliberately invaded her space, not the quiet tremor in her voice when she tried to answer. I replayed every second of our encounter, the way her body betrayed her, the way her fear clung to her like perfume.
Lucas stood at the corner of the room, silent, waiting. He knew better than to interrupt when my mind was working.
"She'll break easily," Kenneth had said earlier, laughing over his drink. "She's too soft, Ricardo. One push and she'll collapse."
But I didn't want her to collapse. Not now. Where was the dignity in breaking a vase with one careless blow? No. I wanted to test her. Stretch her. Watch her bend until she begged for the breaking herself.
I set the tumbler down, the sound sharp against the mahogany desk. Lucas straightened instantly, though I hadn't spoken.
"Tomorrow," I said finally, my voice steady and cold. "She won't be allowed to walk freely anymore. I want her to be reminded of me. Every step she takes, every breath she dares to draw — she will feel me there. Arrange it."
Lucas's jaw tightened. He didn't like this. He thought it was too far. But his opinion didn't matter. He nodded, silent, and slipped from the room.
The next day, I made sure she saw me before she even realized she had. I didn't need to speak. I simply stood across the street from the restaurant, leaning against the sleek black car, sunglasses shielding my eyes, but my posture unmistakable. She froze when she stepped out with her friend. I could see the way her pulse quickened in her throat even from this distance. She clutched her bag tighter, her body stiff as stone.
Good. She was learning what it meant to live under a shadow.
When she walked faster, I let her. I didn't pursue, not directly. Instead, I ensured the car moved at a lazy crawl behind her, the hum of the engine filling the silence of the street. She didn't look back, but I knew she felt it. Fear is louder than footsteps.
Later, I entered the restaurant without warning. Not as a customer this time, but as the inevitable storm she couldn't avoid. Mr. Lexus nearly tripped over himself rushing to greet me, bowing, fumbling with words, his fear thick in the air.
"Don't," I said simply, brushing past him. My eyes found her instantly.
She was behind the counter, fumbling with receipts. The moment she sensed me, her hand froze mid-motion. Her shoulders stiffened. And then, with the courage of a trapped rabbit, she slowly looked up.
Our eyes locked.
For an instant, the bluster of the restaurant vanished. It was merely her and me, the silence extending taut, her fear shaking across the distance. I strode ahead, each stride slow, intentional, estimated. She backed up instinctively, bumping against the counter as if it could protect her.
"Anastasia," I murmured when I reached her, her name rolling from my tongue like a command.
She swallowed hard, her lips parting but no sound escaping.
I leaned closer, not touching her, but close enough that my shadow swallowed hers.
"You're avoiding me," I said softly, though my tone left no room for denial. "That's… disappointing."
"I—I-I'm not," she stammered, though the tremor in her voice betrayed the lie.
"Lying doesn't suit you," I whispered, close enough that only she could hear. "You'll learn that soon."
Her eyes darted to the side, desperate for escape, but I placed my palm flat on the counter beside her, caging her in without laying a hand on her. She froze completely, her breath shallow.
"I don't like being ignored, Anastasia," I continued, my voice low, steady. "When I give someone my card, I expect a call. When I send a driver, I expect compliance. You've tested my patience."
"I never asked for—" she began, but I cut her off with a look sharp enough to silence her.
"You don't ask. You obey."
Her lips quivered, her eyes wide, and for a fleeting second, I almost laughed. The innocence, the fragile defiance that was already collapsing under the weight of my presence.
I leaned back slowly, withdrawing just enough to let her breathe again. "You're not ready yet," I said almost thoughtfully. "That's fine. I enjoy the waiting." My gaze traveled down her trembling frame and back up to her eyes, letting her know without words that there was nowhere she could hide from me. "But don't mistake my restraint for weakness. When I want something, Anastasia… I take it."
I turned away then, leaving her shaken, pale, clutching the counter as though it were the only thing keeping her upright. I didn't need to touch her. Not yet. Fear did my work better than hands ever could.
Outside, Kenneth was waiting with a smirk. "You're scaring her senseless, brother. She'll snap."
"That's the point," I said calmly, sliding into the car. "Fear is the leash. Soon, she won't take a step without feeling it around her throat."
As the car pulled away, I allowed myself a smile. She thought she still had choices. She thought she could avoid me, escape me. But every day, every encounter, I was pulling the strings tighter. Soon, there would be no getaway.
And when that instant came, when I finally closed my hand around her fragile world, she would know the full significance of control.