POV: Ella
Nighttime New York blurred past the limousine window in a streak of distorted lights, but inside the cabin, time seemed to have stood still. The air was so thick with tension it felt as though I could reach out and touch it with my fingers. The silence pressed against my ears more violently than the roar of the crowd back at Obsidian.
I sat huddled against the leather seat, trying to stay as close to the door as possible. Every breath I took was cautious, as if I were afraid of disturbing the beast sitting beside me. Kaiden remained silent. His profile, illuminated by the cold glow of streetlamps, looked as if it had been carved from granite. He didn't look at me, yet I felt his presence in every cell of my body. His anger wasn't loud—it was cold as ice and heavy as the depths of the ocean.
I flinched involuntarily when Kaiden moved suddenly. With one sharp, almost predatory motion, he closed the distance between us. The limousine's interior, which had seemed spacious moments ago, instantly shrunk to the few centimeters between our bodies.
"You're too far away, Ella," his voice rumbled low, sending a shiver racing down my spine.
Before I could muster a response, his hand landed on my shoulder. He didn't ask for permission. He simply stripped off my blazer, tossing it onto the floor of the car like it was nothing more than trash. Indignation rose in my throat, but the words died there when I saw his eyes. They burned with a wild, dangerous gold, fixated on my collarbone.
His fingers, hot as tempered steel, touched my skin. He was staring at the faint redness on my shoulder—the exact spot where Julian Vargas had let his hand linger far too long.
"He touched you here," Kaiden whispered, his voice laced with such a threat that I wanted to vanish. His thumb traced my skin with force, as if trying to scrub away the invisible mark. "He dared to lay his filthy hands on what belongs to me."
"He was just saying hello, Kaiden, it doesn't mean anything..." I started, but he cut me off, leaning in so close that I was engulfed by his scent—expensive wood and danger.
"To me, it means everything."
He didn't let go of my shoulder for the entire ride to the penthouse. His grip was dominant, nearly painful, as if he were branding his territory. When the car finally stopped and the door opened, he didn't wait for me to step out. He hauled me from the cabin and, ignoring my protests, dragged me toward the elevator.
The moment the penthouse doors clicked shut behind us, Kaiden didn't even give me a chance to kick off my heels. He grabbed my elbow and pulled me down the hallway.
"What are you doing? Let me go!" I struggled to break free, but he didn't even flinch. His strength was absolute.
He dragged me into the massive bathroom, a space of sleek black anthracite. The lights flickered on automatically, blinding me for a second. Kaiden shoved me toward the vanity and jerked the faucet open. Water slammed against the marble with a roar, and steam immediately began to fill the room.
"Kaiden, you're going crazy! What is happening?" I gasped, caught between outrage and fear.
He didn't answer. Instead, he took an expensive sponge, soaked it, and grabbing my arm, began to scrub my shoulder. It wasn't gentle. He was washing away the invisible filth with such ferocity it felt as if he wanted to peel away the top layer of my skin.
"I do not tolerate the scent of other men on my property," he growled, pinning me with my back against his chest.
I could feel every line of his hard body. The heat radiating from him mingled with the hot steam, creating the illusion that we were both burning in hell. His hands were everywhere—wiping my neck, my shoulders, my collarbones—ignoring my weak attempts to push him away.
"You have no right!" I cried out, feeling tears of helplessness prick my eyes. "I am not a thing!"
Kaiden stopped abruptly. He spun me around to face him, pinning me between the sink and his massive frame. His face was wet from the steam, his hair disheveled, and his eyes looked at me with such obsession that I forgot how to breathe.
"You're wrong, Ella," he whispered, leaning in so close his lips nearly brushed mine. "I didn't pay a billion for other men to lay hands on my treasure. Not so you could smile at other men. Every cell of your skin belongs to me. Your laughter, your tears, your fear, and your passion—it's all mine. Remember that. Forever."
He dropped the sponge, and it hit the water with a dull splash. His palm slid up my neck, tangling in my hair. He looked at me as if he wanted to drink in my very breath. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me—truly kiss me, obliterating the remnants of my resistance. My heart hammered so hard I feared it would simply stop. I hated him in that second, but simultaneously, I felt a wild, inexplicable pull spreading through my veins like liquid fire.
"Go and change," he snapped suddenly, pulling away. "Throw the dress away. I don't want to see it again."
I stood in the bathroom for several minutes after he left, trying to steady the shaking in my hands. My shoulder burned from his rough movements, but only one thought pulsed in my mind: he knows more about me than he's saying. Much more.
I walked out into the living room without changing. Rage had finally overtaken fear. Kaiden stood by the window with a glass of whiskey, staring out at the city lights.
"Who is the woman in the photo, Kaiden?" My voice sliced through the silence of the room like a blade. "And what was that nonsense Julian was talking about? Why did he call my father a guardian? What kind of game is this?"
Kaiden turned slowly. He set the glass on a side table and began to approach me. Every step was full of predatory grace. I didn't retreat. I stood my ground, though my heart was ready to leap from my chest.
He stopped only when there was no room left for air between us. In one motion, he caught my wrists and pinned them to the wall above my head. The cold marble at my back contrasted with the incredible heat of his body.
"Do you want to know the truth, Princess?" His voice became dangerously quiet, husky with suppressed emotion. "Are you truly ready to hear it?"
He leaned into my ear. His lips were a millimeter from my skin, and I felt his breath scorching my shoulder.
"Your father... the man you defend so loyally—is a murderer. He is a monster who doesn't deserve life, let alone a daughter like you. And the woman in the photo was the only one who knew the truth. The only one who could have stopped him, if not for the circumstances."
I held my breath. Kaiden's words sounded like a death sentence, but I couldn't believe it. My father? A murderer?
"You're lying!" I shouted directly into his face. "You just want to justify what you're doing to me!"
Kaiden only pinned my hands harder against the wall. His gaze dropped to my lips, and for a fleeting moment, something akin to pain mixed with greed flickered there.
"I am not lying. Your father owes me more than can be measured in money. He took everything I valued from me. And now, you are my payment for his sins. You are my way of erasing that debt."
He lingered for a second near my lips, as if hesitating to cross the line. The air between us was electrified to the breaking point. I felt my own lips involuntarily reach for him, seeking answers to questions I was afraid to even ask.
But he suddenly released my hands and took a step back.
"Sleep, Ella," he snapped coldly, without looking at me. "Tomorrow, your new life begins. A life where the past no longer exists."
He turned and walked toward his quarters, leaving me alone in the center of the vast, cold penthouse. I slid down the wall to the floor, feeling the chill of the marble seep into my bones. Chaos reigned in my head. My father—a murderer? And the mysterious woman in the photo was the key to everything?
But the most terrifying thing was something else. Despite his cruelty, despite the fact that he viewed me as merchandise, I still felt the ghost of his breath on my lips. And deep in my soul, I knew: he was right. I already wanted to belong to him, even if it meant burning in the flames of his revenge.