The air between them burned.
Elena's back pressed hard against the headboard, her pulse thundering as the Don loomed over her. His words—Everything—still vibrated in the space between them, heavy, suffocating. His hand braced on the mattress, caging her in without touching her. He didn't need to. His presence was enough.
Her voice scraped against her throat. "You can't just take whatever you want."
His lips curved faintly, not into a smile, but something darker. "Can't I?"
Elena forced herself to meet his gaze. Fear clawed at her insides, but she refused to let it show. "That's not power. That's cowardice. A man who needs to cage a woman to keep her isn't strong—he's pathetic."
For the first time since she met him, his expression flickered. The mask slipped, just for a breath, revealing a flash of something sharp and raw. Then his jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
"You have no idea who you're talking to," he said softly.
"Then enlighten me," she shot back, her voice steadier now. "Because all I see is a man terrified of being alone. So terrified that he has to trap someone who doesn't want him."
His hand moved before she could react—gripping her chin, forcing her to look at him. His thumb brushed her lower lip, and the gesture was as intimate as it was suffocating.
"I could break you with a word," he murmured. "One call, and your world disappears. Your friends. Your family. Everything you've ever known. Gone."
Her throat tightened, but she didn't flinch. "Do it then. Kill me too while you're at it. Because no matter what you destroy, you'll never own me."
The silence that followed was knife-sharp. His eyes bore into hers, unreadable, his breath slow, controlled. Finally, he released her, stepping back. The sudden distance made her chest ache with relief.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. "You think your defiance makes you strong. But all it does is make me want you more."
He turned toward the door. Elena exhaled, her body trembling now that the weight of him had lifted. But he paused, his voice slicing through the dark.
"You'll learn, Elena. Fire always burns out. Ice always cracks. And when you do, you'll be mine."
The lock clicked as he left, the echo louder than any slam.
Morning came too bright, too golden for the prison she woke in. Sunlight spilled across the gilded room, mocking her with its warmth. Elena sat on the edge of the bed, her stomach in knots, exhaustion dragging at her bones. She hadn't slept. Every creak of the floorboards, every shadow had made her flinch, certain he'd return.
The same older woman from last night entered again, this time with a tray of breakfast. Eggs, bread, fresh fruit, steaming coffee. The smell turned Elena's stomach.
"I told you, I'm not hungry," she said, sharper than she intended.
The woman didn't flinch. "Then starve. It changes nothing."
Elena's eyes stung. "Why are you here? Why do you serve him?"
The woman's gaze lingered on her for a long moment. "Because in this world, survival isn't about what you want. It's about who controls the game."
Elena's chest cracked. "And what am I supposed to do? Pretend I want this?"
The woman's voice softened, almost pitying. "You don't have to pretend. You just have to endure."
With that, she left, the door locking once again.
Elena shoved the tray away, the clatter of dishes shattering the silence. She pressed her hands into her face, rage simmering in her chest. Endure? No. She wouldn't just survive. She would fight.
That afternoon, the door opened again—but this time, it wasn't the maid.
It was him.
The Don strode in like he owned the air itself. He wore a crisp black suit, a watch glinting on his wrist, his hair slicked back. He looked untouchable, dangerous, lethal. And worse—utterly calm.
Elena's spine straightened instinctively. She would not cower.
"I don't want your food. I don't want your mansion. And I don't want you," she snapped before he could speak.
His brow arched, amusement flickering across his face. "You've been practicing your speeches."
"I mean it. Let me go."
He chuckled low, shaking his head. "Still bargaining as if you have something I want besides yourself." He stepped closer. "You're not here because I enjoy obedience. If that's all I wanted, I could buy it a hundred times over. You're here because you fight me. And every time you do, I taste victory in your defiance."
Her chest heaved. "That's twisted."
He smirked. "No. That's obsession."
His hand reached toward her face again, but this time she slapped it away. His eyes darkened instantly, the room dropping into a dangerous silence. Elena's heart pounded, but she refused to take it back.
He leaned close, his voice dropping low. "Careful, Elena. Even I have limits."
Her lips curled into a bitter smile. "Good. So do I."
For the first time, he laughed—not cruelly, but deeply, unexpectedly. It rattled her more than his threats. His eyes glittered with something sharp, something unshakable.
"You're going to ruin me," he said softly, almost to himself.
Then he turned, striding out of the room. The lock clicked, but his words lingered, echoing in her chest long after he'd gone.
That night, Elena stood by the window, staring out at the sprawling grounds. Guards patrolled below, their rifles glinting in the moonlight. The iron gates loomed in the distance, freedom on the other side. The urge to scream, to run, to claw her way out burned inside her. But his words came back—One call, and your world disappears.
She pressed her forehead against the glass, her breath fogging the surface. She wouldn't break. She couldn't. If he wanted her fire, then she'd burn hotter than he could handle.
Behind her, she heard it again. The sound of the lock turning.
Her chest tightened. Slowly, she turned.
He was back.