Ariella didn't know what was worse. The danger outside Dominic's walls or the one standing inches from her.
He hadn't kissed her.
But he hadn't stepped back, either.
He just stood there, one hand pressed against the desk beside her, his body boxing hers in without touching. The silence between them felt charged, heavy with a pull she didn't understand. She should have been terrified.
Instead, she felt hot and breathless. A strange ache curling low in her belly.
"I should hate you," she whispered.
Dominic's voice was low and dangerous. "Then why are you trembling like you want me to touch you?"
Because I do.
The thought slammed into her uninvited, and she hated how real it felt. She didn't know this man. He was violent and controlling. Possibly dangerous. But his voice could melt steel, and when he looked at her like that,like he wanted to devour her. She couldn't think straight.
Her lips parted.
But he stepped back.
Just like that, the heat broke. He turned away from her like it had meant nothing, like he hadn't just made her heart pound against her ribs like a trapped thing.
"I'll have clothes brought to your room," he said, voice cool again. "You'll stay inside unless I say otherwise."
She blinked, trying to breathe. "Am I your prisoner now?"
Dominic glanced over his shoulder. "No, Ariella. You're my responsibility."
"And what does that mean?"
He paused at the door, his tone flat. "It means you belong to me now."
---
The next few days passed in a blur of luxury and quiet tension.
Dominic had a staff. Discreet, silent, gone before she even knew they were there. Her meals appeared on a tray outside her door. Her old clothes were replaced with silk, lace, and soft cotton. All far too intimate for someone who wasn't supposed to be touched.
But the strange part was… he didn't come back.
No knocks in the night. No more heavy conversations. No stolen touches.
He disappeared into his world of phone calls and locked doors, leaving her to wander the penthouse in silence. She told herself she was grateful for the space.
But every night, she found herself listening for his voice.
It wasn't until the fifth day that she saw him again. Shirtless, sweat-slicked, and throwing punches in his private gym.
She hadn't meant to walk in. She was looking for a book, but then she pushed open the wrong door and saw him...
"God." She exclaimed under her breath.
His back muscles flexed with every swing. Tattoos inked his ribs and shoulder blade. A long scar curved across his side, disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants. He moved like he was made of coiled steel.
She didn't mean to gasp. But she did.
He stopped mid-way, turned instantly, eyes locking onto her like a predator spotting prey.
"You're up early," he said, grabbing a towel and dragging it across his neck.
"I...I didn't know you had a gym."
He gave her a slow, unreadable smile. "You lost?"
"A little."
He crossed the room, sweat-slick skin gleaming, towel tossed around his neck. "I like that you wander. It makes it easier for me to find you."
She looked up at him. "Do you always flirt like this with your prisoners?"
He laughed softly. "Only the ones who stare at my chest like they want to lick it."
She turned crimson. "I wasn't..."
"You were."
He stepped closer, heat rolling off his skin. Ariella backed up instinctively, only to bump against the edge of the treadmill behind her. Dominic placed his hand beside her head, trapping her without even touching.
"I thought you said you wouldn't touch me," she whispered.
"I did."
"Then why do you keep doing things that make me want you to?"
His jaw clenched.
For a second, it looked like he might break. That he might lean in, finally give her what she hadn't stopped thinking about since their first conversation.
But then... he exhaled, Stepped back and Walked away.
"You should go shower," he said over his shoulder. "You're flushed."
She stared at him, stunned.
"Dominic..."
"Don't tempt me, Ariella. Not unless you're ready for what will happen next."
---
Later that night, after a long bath and several failed attempts at reading, Ariella wandered into the library.
He was there.
Seated behind the desk in a black dress shirt, sleeves rolled, collar undone. Glass of bourbon in hand. He didn't look up as she stepped inside.
"You didn't answer your door," she said softly.
"I was working."
"I noticed."
A pause. Then, "Come here."
She moved around the desk slowly, until she stood beside him. He glanced up at her, and his gaze trailed down her body, abare feet, soft white sleep shorts, tank top too thin for modesty.
"I told you not to tempt me," he murmured.
"And I told you I wanted answers."
He set the glass down. Turned fully in his chair to face her.
"You think I'm playing some kind of game, little dove?" he asked, voice velvet-wrapped danger. "You think this is some twisted fantasy where the bad man breaks the sweet girl and she falls in love with her monster?"
"I don't know what this is," she said, heart pounding. "But I know I'm not afraid of you."
That surprised him. Dominic stood slowly. "You should be," he said.
She didn't move. "But I'm not."
He reached for her, then one hand tangled in her hair, the other sliding around her waist, pulling her against him in one smooth, fluid motion. Their bodies touched. She gasped. Heat licked up her spine.
"You're untouched," he growled. "And you're looking at me like I'm your first taste of sin."
She didn't deny it.
"I won't take what you're not ready to give," he said, voice thick. "But if you offer it,
Ariella... if you beg... I won't stop."
Her eyes fluttered shut. Her lips parted.
"I..."
A sudden beep interrupted them. A flash showed on the monitor. Movements at the gate.
Dominic froze.
His entire demeanor shifted. Calm turning to violence, lust into steel. He pushed her behind him with one hand and grabbed a gun from the drawer with the other.
"Ariella," he said without turning around, "go to your room. Now."
"What's happening?"
"Now."
She flinched backing away as his voice darkened, and the monitors zoomed in on a pair of black SUVs pulling up to the estate.
Trouble had arrived.