Maya Sinclair had always loved her birthdays at least, she used to. Until today.
Turning twenty one should have felt like freedom, celebration, possibility. Instead, her stomach churned with a gnawing dread. Over the past week, her father, Charles Sinclair, had become a stranger, his smiles too tight, his eyes avoiding hers, his whispered conversations behind closed doors too urgent and secretive. Maya, who had been raised in privilege but sheltered from reality, felt the first sharp sting of fear in her life.
Her instincts told her something was wrong. And for once, she wished she could ignore them, but the pit in her stomach refused.
The front doors of the estate opened abruptly, drawing every gaze. A hush fell over the room, as if the music itself had stopped mid-note.
Dominic DeLuca.
The name alone would have caused murmurs in any crowd, but tonight, it carried weight beyond recognition. Tall, imposing, and impossibly precise, he entered as though the room belonged to him and perhaps it did. His eyes, dark as storm clouds, swept the guests with a calm, unreadable intensity until they landed on her. And in that instant, Maya felt something she had never felt before: a cold, sharp edge of fear wrapped around her chest.
He smirked faintly, almost imperceptibly. That smirk alone made her stomach flip. Dangerous, calculating… the kind of man who could take life without hesitation, who could strip the warmth from a room without raising a hand.
Her father cleared his throat. "Maya… come here," he said, his voice unusually soft, almost apologetic.
Maya obeyed, heart hammering violently against her ribcage. As she approached, she noticed a subtle tension in the crowd, the way the guests shifted uneasily, glancing between Dominic and her father. Something about the man radiated threat, a quiet assertion that no one in this room dared challenge.
"You know why he's here," Charles said softly. His gaze avoided hers, but Maya caught the slight tremor in his hands.
Before she could reply, Dominic's voice rang out, smooth and lethal.
"From this moment, you belong to me."
The words slammed into her like a punch to the chest. Gasps rippled through the hall. Maya's knees threatened to buckle, but she fought to stay upright, eyes wide in disbelief.
"Belong to you? What… what are you saying?" Her voice trembled.
Dominic's gaze swept over her like a judge passing sentence. His calm was terrifying. "I'm not here to negotiate. You'll learn soon enough what obedience looks like. Your father has made a deal."
The word "deal" lodged in her throat. Her mind raced, trying to comprehend the impossible.
Her father's eyes darted to hers, full of a strange mix of regret and fear. "It's… for the business, Maya. You'll understand one day."
Maya's stomach twisted violently. "You… sold me?" The words slipped out, barely believable even to her.
Dominic took a deliberate step closer, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. Every instinct in Maya screamed to run, to escape this nightmare, but her feet were rooted to the floor. His aura was magnetic and terrifying at the same time calm yet full of lethal promise.
"You're mine now," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His fingers were cold, almost cruel, but the intensity in his eyes burned hotter than any touch. "Do not test me, Maya. Do not even think about disobedience."
Her world shattered.
Charles Sinclair flinched but said nothing.
Before Maya could speak, Dominic nodded to his men. In seconds, two of them moved behind her. Not touching but close enough to block any escape.
Maya's breath hitched. She tried to step back, but his eyes held hers in place. For a moment, she could see nothing else the crowd, the music, the chandeliers all disappeared. There was only him, dominant and unyielding, a predator in tailored black, and her.
Her mind reeled. This was impossible. Her father, the man she had trusted her entire life, had betrayed her in the cruelest, most unimaginable way. And the man standing before her Dominic DeLuca was the embodiment of danger itself.
Her father whispered something, but she barely heard it over the pounding of her heart. "Maya… it's for the family. It's what's best."
"What's best?" she repeated, disbelief sharp in her voice. "You're selling me to a killer!"
Dominic's smirk widened just slightly, amused by her defiance. "Killer?" His voice was a low growl now, smooth and dangerous. "Perhaps. But only to those who threaten me. You, Maya… you are mine. And I do not lose what is mine."
The words felt like chains wrapping around her, and the crowd around her seemed to blur, as if the world had been reduced to the two of them predator and prey, master and captive, fire and ice.
She wanted to scream, eventually she did "I'm never marrying him father, you are cruel and I hate you for selling me for your selfish desires" she tried to run, to demand the impossible.
"How dare you" replied her father raising his hand to give her a slap but Dominic stopped him, held his hands and responded
"She's mine now, no one touches her but me"
Fear gripped her, a cold, sharp thing that left her trembling. And yet, beneath it, a quiet defiance simmered. She would not be broken without a fight even if she didn't know how yet.
Dominic tilted his head slightly, studying her reaction. His eyes flickered with something she didn't understand curiosity? Amusement? Obsession? The realization struck her slowly, like a shadow creeping over the sun: he wasn't just dangerous. He was danger himself.
And that terrified her more than anything.
The music resumed, the guests whispered again, and the chandeliers sparkled overhead, but Maya felt disconnected from it all. In that moment, everything she had known about her life her family, her safety, her future shattered.
She was no longer Maya Sinclair, the sheltered daughter of a wealthy businessman. She was Maya Sinclair, sold into a world of danger, obsession, and power. And standing before her, cold was the man who now owned and held her life in his hands.
As Dominic extended a hand towards her, a warning clear in every movement, she hesitated. Trembling, afraid, but she finally placed her hand in his.
This was the beginning of her imprisonment and, perhaps, the start of something neither of them could control.