It was time. Time to show her she was wanted—no, desired. He'd studied her for a week now: her schedule, her laughter, her sadness, even the hollow left by her father's absence. Every detail was his to claim, every breath catalogued. One thing burned clear in his mind—she would be his. And she would be happier for it.
From the shadows, he watched. Every movement, every stolen smile, every sigh behind closed doors. Even in her home, she thought herself safe. Foolish little rabbit. She wasn't Lily Garcia anymore. She was his Lily.
She didn't know his name. Not yet. She had no idea how close she was to the moment her world would flip, her future rewritten by his hand.
In his office, the glow of the screen painted his face as he gazed at her image—live, vulnerable, his secret. A predator's smirk curved his lips. "Moya lyubov" he whispered, almost reverent. My love.
A knock shattered the silence. He didn't look away.
"Come in."
"Boss, what's the next move?" one of his men asked cautiously.
"The next move?" His smile sharpened. "Bring me lilies. Pure ones—just like her innocence. A symbol of our beginning."
"As you command, boss. Anything else?"
"Yes." He pulled a sticky note from his drawer, scrawling a message without tearing his eyes from her face on the screen. 'You're mine. Make no mistake, you may not know me yet but YOU ARE MINE.' He held it up between his fingers, eyes gleaming with a darkness only he could call love.
"And send this with the lilies. But make them gold. Real gold."
The men nodded silently. The weight of his obsession settling in the room like smoke. Little did she knew, a storm was already surrounding her world.
MEANWHILE, Lily…
The doorbell rang. The maid peeked through the peephole and froze. Outside rested a bouquet—not ordinary flowers, but golden lilies, each stem glinting as if dipped in sunlight. Tucked in the petals was a small note.
"Miss… Miss L-Lily… o-outside—" the maid stammered, voice shaking.
Lily cut her off, frowning. "I'll check it myself."
The maid gulped, stepping aside as Lily descended the stairs. She stepped onto the porch, eyes widening at the sight. The bouquet shimmered in her hands, impossibly heavy.
"Gold?" she murmured, brushing her fingers over the metallic petals, disbelief and awe warring on her face.
Then she noticed the note. She unfolded it, breath hitching.
You're mine. Make no mistake. You may not know me yet, but YOU ARE MINE.
Her fingers trembled. Heart racing, mind spinning. "Who could do this? If Dad finds out… he'll kill me. Who could spend this much? Is this… real gold?"
For a heartbeat, she felt the thrill of fear curl into her chest, a shiver she couldn't name. Someone was watching. Someone was close. And suddenly, the world she thought she knew felt too small, too fragile… and entirely, terrifyingly his.
Lily held the buquet a little tighter, heart hammering in her chest. Her eyes darted around the quiet street, half-expecting someone to appear from the shadows. But there was no one. Just the golden lilies, glinting in the sunlight like they were alive, mocking her.
She turned the note over in her hands, trying to find a clue—an initial, a mark, anything. Nothing. Just the same chilling certainty: YOU ARE MINE.
Her mind raced. "Could it be one of Dad's business rivals? No… too personal. Too… deliberate. Someone knows me. Someone knows everything."
A shiver ran down her spine, and yet… a strange pull rooted her to the spot. The fear and fascination coiled together, tightening around her chest like a vice. She tried to shake it off, forcing herself to think logically, but her fingers kept tracing the golden petals, almost hypnotized.
The maid hovered nervously behind her. "Miss… should I—"
"Shh," Lily said, almost to herself. "No… I need to see… who sent this."
But even as she spoke, she knew: she wouldn't find them. Not yet. Someone was watching, waiting. And for the first time, Lily realized that the safe world she thought she had… was gone.
The question that echoed in her mind, unbidden and impossible to ignore: "Who is he? And why am I already… his?"
MEANWHILE, Mikhail…
He leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the screen, savoring the way her pulse betrayed her. The golden lilies in her hands were more than flowers—they were a promise, a whisper, a tether pulling her toward him whether she realized it or not.
A slow, deliberate smirk curved his lips. "Bring Alec Garcia to me," he said, voice ice-cold, leaving no room for hesitation. "Tell him it's about work. Don't mention Lily. I want him here. Soon."
The room seemed to bend around his authority. Every movement calculated, every pause deliberate. He was not just planning—he was orchestrating. His goal wasn't just to own her attention; it was to consume her world, little by little, until she had no choice but to think of him, to feel him, always.
His gold lilies were already working—beautiful, deadly, subtle. She would see them and wonder, fear and fascination intertwining in her chest. And somewhere deep inside, she would feel him there, watching, waiting.
His fingers drummed against the desk. She was on his mind constantly, and now… he would make sure he was on hers. Every thought, every heartbeat, every moment—his. Forever.
The man nodded and left after bowing silently.
Mikhail mind consumed with one thought "soon she'll know me, know that she belongs to me, know that she has no other choice"
Every step she takes, every breathe she steals...is desired by him.