Aria's POV
I pull my hand back like his touch burned me.
"No," I say, my voice stronger than I expected. "I need to know exactly what you're asking for. No games. No pretty words. The truth."
Dominic's expression doesn't change, but something flickers in his eyes. Approval, maybe. Or respect.
"Smart," he says, settling back into his chair. "Most people would have grabbed at the offer without thinking."
"Most people haven't spent three years learning that nothing comes free."
He nods slowly. "Fair enough. You want the truth? Here it is."
He stands and walks to the windows, looking out at the city below. When he speaks, his voice is cold and businesslike.
"I own a security company. Cross Security Solutions. We provide protection for high-profile clients—politicians, celebrities, executives. People who have enemies." He turns to face me. "I need a personal assistant. Someone intelligent, observant, and completely loyal."
"You could hire anyone for that."
"I could," he agrees. "But I don't want anyone. I want you."
"Why?"
"Because you're invisible, Aria. The world has already written you off as worthless. No one pays attention to homeless women or convicted criminals. You could walk into any room with me and people would look right through you." His eyes pin me in place. "That makes you valuable."
My stomach twists. "You want me to spy for you."
"I want you to observe. Listen. Remember. And tell me everything you see and hear." He moves closer. "You said you have a photographic memory. Is that true?"
I hesitate, then nod. It was one of the things that made me good at my old job. I could remember every piece of art, every client preference, every detail.
"Perfect," Dominic says. "That's exactly what I need."
"And in return?"
"In return, you get a life. An apartment—nothing fancy, but clean and safe. A salary. New clothes. New identity documents that aren't flagged in every database. Most importantly, you get protection."
"Protection from what?"
His jaw tightens. "From the people who destroyed you. Marcus Vaughn has powerful friends, Aria. If he ever discovers you're still alive and functioning, still a potential threat, he'll eliminate you. But if you belong to me, if you're under my protection, he can't touch you."
The words "belong to me" send ice through my veins.
"For how long?" I ask.
"Five years."
"Five years of what, exactly?"
Dominic returns to the couch and sits across from me. When he speaks, his voice is completely neutral, like he's reading a contract.
"Five years of complete obedience. You go where I tell you. You do what I say. You speak when I allow it and stay silent when I don't. You ask no questions about my business or my clients. You tell no one about our arrangement." He pauses. "And you never, ever betray me."
"That's not a job. That's ownership."
"Yes," he says simply. "It is."
My hands clench into fists. Everything in me wants to scream, to throw his offer back in his face. I spent three years being treated like garbage, like property. And now this man wants me to volunteer for it?
But then I remember the alley. The hands on me. The fist coming toward my face.
I remember sleeping in doorways, going through trash for food, being chased away from every shelter. I remember the cold and the hunger and the absolute certainty that I would die alone and forgotten.
"What happens after five years?" I whisper.
"You're free. I'll provide references, help you find legitimate work, set you up with enough money to start fresh." His eyes never leave mine. "Or you can choose to stay. But that would be your choice, not an obligation."
"And if I break the rules before then?"
"Then the contract is void and you're on your own." His voice drops, becoming softer and somehow more threatening. "But I should warn you, Aria—I don't forgive betrayal. If you take this deal and then cross me, I won't just abandon you. I'll destroy whatever life you've managed to build. Do you understand?"
I understand perfectly. He's offering me a beautiful cage, and if I try to escape, he'll burn down the world around me.
"Why should I trust you?" I ask.
"You shouldn't," Dominic says bluntly. "Trust is earned, not given. But ask yourself this—have I lied to you yet? Have I pretended this is anything other than what it is?"
He's right. He's been brutally honest about everything. No false promises, no pretty lies.
"I need time to think," I say.
"No."
The word hits like a slap.
"The offer expires when you leave this room," Dominic continues. "Either you agree now, or I drive you back to the streets and we never speak again. Those are your only options."
"That's not fair!"
"Life isn't fair, Aria. You of all people should know that." He leans forward. "But here's what is fair—I'm giving you a real choice. Slavery to the streets or slavery to me. At least with me, you'll be warm, fed, and protected. At least with me, you'll have a purpose."
Tears burn my eyes. I hate him in this moment. Hate him for being right, for offering me hope wrapped in chains, for making me choose between death and surrender.
"I need you to say it," Dominic says quietly. "I need to hear you agree. Out loud. No confusion, no excuses later."
My throat is so tight I can barely breathe.
"If I say yes..." I start.
"Then you're mine for five years. Completely. No take-backs."
I close my eyes. I think about David, my ex-fiancé, who promised to stand by me and then disappeared the moment things got hard. I think about my parents, who believed strangers over their own daughter. I think about Sienna, my best friend, who probably helped destroy me.
Everyone I trusted betrayed me.
So why not trust someone who's honest about being dangerous?
I open my eyes and look directly at Dominic Cross.
"I agree," I say. "Five years. Complete obedience. I'm yours."
Something dangerous and satisfied flashes across his face.
"Say it again," he commands. "Say 'I belong to you.'"
Every part of me rebels against the words. But I force them out.
"I belong to you."
Dominic stands and extends his hand one more time. "Then we have a deal, Aria Quinn."
I take his hand and he pulls me to my feet. For a moment, we stand there, connected, and I feel the weight of what I've just done settling over me like a blanket.
"What happens now?" I ask.
"Now, I take you home." He releases my hand and walks toward the elevator. "You'll stay here tonight. Tomorrow, we'll get you cleaned up, get you new clothes, and begin your training."
"Training for what?"
He looks back at me, and his smile is sharp enough to cut.
"Training to become the perfect weapon."
The elevator doors open and he gestures for me to enter. I step inside on shaking legs, my mind spinning.
As we descend back into the parking garage, Dominic pulls out his phone and makes a call.
"Gabe, it's me," he says. "Prepare the east wing apartment. I need it ready by tomorrow morning." A pause. "Yes, I found her." His eyes flick to me. "And yes, she agreed."
He hangs up and we walk to the SUV in silence. This time when he opens the door, I climb in on my own, though my body screams in protest.
Dominic gets behind the wheel and we pull out into the rain-soaked streets. The city looks different now—less like a prison and more like a chessboard. And somehow, I've just agreed to become one of Dominic Cross's pieces.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"I told you. Home."
"I don't have a home."
"You do now."
We drive through downtown, past the familiar landmarks of my old life. The gallery where I used to work is dark. The coffee shop where David proposed is closed. Everything that mattered is gone.
But as we turn onto a tree-lined street I don't recognize, something occurs to me.
"You said you've been tracking me for six months," I say carefully. "Why wait until tonight? Why let me suffer all that time if you needed me so badly?"
Dominic's hands tighten on the steering wheel.
"Because I needed to be sure," he says.
"Sure of what?"
"That you were desperate enough to say yes. That you'd been broken down enough to be rebuilt the way I need you." He glances at me, and there's something almost apologetic in his expression. "I'm sorry, Aria. But I couldn't risk approaching you until you had absolutely nothing left to lose."
The words hit me like ice water.
"You... you let me suffer on purpose?" My voice shakes. "You watched me starve and freeze and almost die, all so I'd be desperate enough to agree to this?"
"Yes."
The simple admission steals my breath.
"And tonight?" I whisper. "Those men in the alley—did you arrange that too?"
Dominic's expression goes hard. "No. That was real. When I saw them corner you, I knew I'd waited too long. If I'd lost you tonight..." He doesn't finish the sentence.
We pull up to a beautiful apartment building. Nothing like his penthouse, but nicer than anywhere I've lived in three years. Dominic parks and turns to face me.
"I know you hate me right now," he says. "And you have every right to. But I saved your life tonight, Aria. Whatever my reasons, whatever my methods, you're alive because of me. Remember that."
I want to scream at him. Want to claw his eyes out for manipulating me, for watching me suffer.
But he's right. I am alive because of him.
Dominic gets out and comes around to open my door. When I don't move, he reaches in and unbuckles my seatbelt.
"Come on," he says gently. "You need rest. Tomorrow is going to be a very long day."
I let him help me out of the SUV, my mind numb with shock and exhaustion and a terrible realization.
I just sold myself to a man who watched me suffer for months without blinking.
What have I done?
As we walk toward the building entrance, Dominic's phone buzzes. He checks it and his entire body goes rigid.
"What?" I ask. "What's wrong?"
He shows me the screen.
It's a text message from an unknown number. Just three words:
She's still alive?
Below it is a photo.
Of me.
Taken tonight.
In the alley.
Before Dominic arrived.