Ariella crouched beside her bed, heart pounding in her chest like it was trying to break free.
She'd never seen Dominic look like that before. What was she even thinking she never knew him so obviously she hadn't seen him that way. But it was terrifying the look in his eyes.
Cold, Lethal. Nothing like the man who had pinned her against the desk some minutes ago and this was what truly lived beneath the suit and silk. He didn't lie when he said he's world is messy.
"Oh Arielle what have you gotten yourself into" she lamented.
The monitors had shown two black SUVs idling at the front gate. Men in dark coats. Armed. Moving with the kind of caution that meant they weren't here to talk.
She'd wanted to ask questions, to beg him to stay, but his voice and aura had changed when he ordered her to go. Not loud. Just final.
And she had obeyed. How couldn't she. He was nothing like the Dominic she was used to when he command her like that the only thing she could do was obey.
Minutes passed. Maybe more. She didn't have her phone, didn't have a clock only her own pulse ticking time in her ears.
Then gunshots.
Three in a row. Muffled. Distant.
She covered her mouth, panic clawing at her chest.
Another round of shots. Then silence.
She pressed herself tighter to the corner of the bed, stomach rolling. This wasn't just the world Dominic belonged to. This was the world she was was in now.
And it was soaked in blood.
When the door creaked open, she nearly screamed.
But it was him.
Dominic stepped inside, his dark shirt stained at the shoulder, a deep scratch across his cheek. His eyes met hers instantly. Sharp and assessing, like he was making sure she was still breathing.
"Ariella," he said.
She rushed to her feet. "Are you hurt?"
"I've had worse." He walked toward her. "Did you stay in here?"
She nodded.
"Good girl."
She shivered at the way those two words sounded on his lips. Rough, Praising and Possessive.
"What happened?" she whispered.
"An ambush," he said. "Two men made it through the perimeter. They were dealt with."
"Dealt with?"
His eyes stayed on her. "They won't be back."
Ariella swallowed hard.
He reached up and brushed a piece of hair from her face. His knuckles were bruised. His fingers smelled faintly of gunpowder and leather.
"They were sent by a man named Calvetti," he murmured. "He thinks he can rattle me. He thought you were my weakness."
Her lips parted. "And are you?"
He didn't answer. Not with words.
Instead, he leaned in and kissed her forehead. Soft, slow, lingering. Her breath caught in her throat.
"You're moving rooms," he said.
"To where?"
His gaze was unreadable. "Mine."
"But... "
"Shhhh do as you're told." He said leading her towards his bedroom.
Dominic's bedroom was darker than hers. Masculine. Expensive. Hardwood floors. Black silk sheets. A faint, smoky scent of bourbon and cedarwood clung to the air. And yet… there was warmth to it. A private fire beneath all the cold.
He gestured to the bed. "You'll sleep there."
Her brows lifted. "And you?"
He unbuttoned his shirt with slow, practiced fingers. "Beside you."
She flushed. "That's not necessary."
He stepped closer, bare chest on display, blood-streaked shoulder flexing with movement. "If someone breaks in again, they'll come for you. I'd rather they have to step through me to get there."
Her heart skipped. "You expect them to come again?"
"I expect the worst. Always."
He tossed the shirt into a hamper. She stared at the scar trailing down his torso long, angry, faded but brutal.
"What happened there?" she asked softly.
"Someone wanted what was mine."
She swallowed. "And did they get it?"
Dominic's gaze burned into hers. "No. But they died trying."
She changed in his en suite bathroom, slipping into a soft nightshirt. Her nerves felt raw. Every part of her buzzed like a live wire. When she stepped out, he was already in bed, propped up against the headboard, a book in his lap and a gun on the nightstand.
"Is that really necessary?" she asked, nodding toward the weapon.
"In my world, everything's necessary."
Nodding, she slipped under the covers, careful to leave space between them. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions. Her mind raced.
"Dominic," she whispered.
He didn't look at her. "Mm?"
"Am I really just a liability to you?"
He closed the book. Turned toward her. "You were. The night you walked in."
"And now?"
Now, he looked at her.
Looked at her the way no one ever had like she was breakable and dangerous all at once.
"Now I don't know what the hell you are," he said. "But I do know this…"
He reached out, brushing the back of his fingers along her jaw. She leaned into the touch without meaning to.
"If anyone touches you again, if anyone even thinks about hurting you, I'll bury them."
Her breath caught.
"Why?" she whispered.
He leaned in, lips near her ear, voice a velvet blade.
"Because I don't share what's mine."
The lights went off. Silence settled.
Ariella lay still for a long time, every sense alert. She could hear his breathing beside her. Calm. Controlled. His heat so close.
She couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said.
I don't share what's mine.
And worse… she couldn't stop the thrill it gave her. She was scared, neither was she afraid. Instead she felt something hotter, something wilder.
Possessiveness didn't feel like a threat when it came from him.
It felt like protection.
It felt like… Belonging.
Sometime around dawn, she stirred. A soft nightmare. Cold fingers. Dominic was asleep beside her, one arm loosely draped across his waist.
She turned gently, trying not to wake him.
But his arm moved,curling around her like it belonged there.
Her body stiffened in surprise.
He didn't speak. Didn't open his eyes.
He just pulled her closer.
And for the first time in days, she let herself rest.
Because maybe, just maybe, the devil in this silk sheets wasn't her captor.
Maybe… he was her shield.