Nina woke the next morning in silk sheets. For a moment, she didn't remember where she was. The room smelled faintly of leather and sandalwood, the curtains heavy enough to blot out the rising sun. Then memory crashed back Adrian's kiss, his hand at her throat, the intensity of his eyes when he told her she belonged to him.
Her body still hummed with a mixture of fear and something she refused to name.
She sat up quickly, tugging the sheets around her, and realized someone had left a neatly folded dress draped over the armchair: midnight-blue silk, with a daring slit and a neckline that dipped far too low. On top of it lay a note, scrawled in dark ink.
Wear this tonight. Dinner at eight. Don't be late.
Her heart stuttered. Adrian had arranged everything without asking her. Without even considering whether she wanted to come back.
And yet… she knew she would.
The rest of the day crawled by in haze. She returned to campus, dragging herself through lectures, but she couldn't concentrate. Her classmates scribbled notes; Nina stared at her blank page, the ink of her pen drying at the tip.
"Are you okay?" one girl whispered.
Nina forced a smile, murmured something about being tired, and ducked her head again. If anyone knew she had spent the night with Adrian Moretti, that he was pulling her deeper into his dangerous orbit, the gossip would spread like wildfire.
But even as she sat in that lecture hall, her pulse quickened with the memory of his lips against her ear, his commanding whisper, the way his hands had owned every inch of her.
She hated herself for it. But she couldn't stop thinking about him.
By the time the car came for her that evening, her nerves were on fire.
The driver pulled up in a sleek black vehicle outside her hostel, the tinted windows giving no hint of the world inside. He opened the back door without a word, and Nina climbed in, clutching the strap of her bag like a lifeline.
The ride was silent, the hum of the engine the only sound. By the time they reached Adrian's penthouse, her throat was dry, her palms damp.
The elevator doors slid open, and there he was waiting, as though he had known the precise second she would arrive.
Adrian leaned casually against the wall, dark shirt rolled to the elbows, collar open, a glass of wine in his hand. His gaze swept over her, lingering, unashamed.
"You wore the dress," he murmured, a smile tugging at his mouth.
Her voice trembled. "You didn't leave me much of a choice."
He pushed off the wall, crossing to her in three strides. One hand slid around her waist, pulling her close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You'll find, Nina, that I rarely leave room for choice. Not with you."
Her breath caught. She wanted to push him away, to tell him she wasn't some possession he could summon with a snap of his fingers. But his nearness, his scent, the weight of his touch they dissolved her protests before they could form.
Dinner was already set: crystal glasses, silver cutlery, candles flickering against the city skyline. Nina sat across from him, trying to steady her hands as he poured her wine.
"Do you always control people like this?" she asked suddenly, surprising even herself.
Adrian raised an eyebrow, swirling the deep red liquid in his glass. "Control is an illusion, Nina. Most people beg for it, even when they think they're resisting. They want someone else to decide for them. To take away the burden of choice."
"And what if I don't want that?"
His smile was sharp, predatory. "Then why are you here?"
The words hit her like a slap. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. He had her, and they both knew it.
Dinner passed in a haze of tension. Every time she reached for her glass, his eyes followed the movement. Every time she shifted in her chair, his gaze darkened, as if undressing her in his mind.
By the time the plates were cleared, her pulse was a drumbeat in her ears.
Adrian rose and came around the table, holding out his hand. "Come with me."
Her body obeyed before her mind could argue.
He led her into the living room, where the dim light of the city poured through floor-to-ceiling windows. The glass reflected them back his tall frame, her trembling figure.
"Do you know what I see when I look at you?" he asked, standing behind her now, his breath brushing her neck.
She shook her head.
"A flower," he whispered, his lips grazing her skin. "Delicate. Untouched. But flowers like you don't stay pure for long. Not in my hands."
Nina shivered as his fingers traced the line of her shoulder, sliding down her arm until he laced his hand with hers. He turned her gently, pressing her back against the cool glass. The city lights sprawled out below, as though the whole world were watching.
Her lips parted, a protest caught in her throat. But before she could speak, his mouth was on hers hungry, consuming, stealing her breath.
She clutched at his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. His hand slid to her thigh, parting the silk of the dress, his touch firm, commanding.
"Adrian…" Her voice broke, half plea, half warning.
"Say it again," he murmured against her lips, his eyes burning. "Say my name when you need me."
The world blurred, reduced to the heat of his mouth, the strength of his hands, the dizzying surrender she couldn't fight.
Every time she thought she had found her limit, he pushed her further. Every whispered command drew her deeper.
And the most terrifying part was how much she wanted it.
Much later, she lay sprawled against him on the couch, her body trembling with aftershocks, her skin still burning from his touch. He brushed her hair back lazily, watching her with something between amusement and hunger.
"You'll get used to it," he said softly.
Her lashes fluttered. "Used to what?"
"To being mine."
Nina's chest tightened. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that this was temporary, that she wasn't someone to be owned. But the words wouldn't come.
Because part of her already feared he was right.
The following morning, she dragged herself back to campus, exhausted and conflicted. Her friends teased her about being distracted, but she forced a smile, pretending everything was fine.
Inside, she was falling apart.
Adrian's world was swallowing her whole. The money, the luxury, the pleasure it was intoxicating. But with each night she spent in his arms, each command she obeyed, she felt a little more of herself slipping away.
And yet, when her phone buzzed with his next message, her pulse leapt.
Tonight. Don't make me wait.
She stared at the words, torn.
But she knew she would go.
Because no matter how much she resisted, the cage was already closing around her.
And she wasn't sure she wanted to escape.