Eva woke up with a crushing weight at her waist. She didn't have to open her eyes to know who it was—Kevin's body radiated heat, and she could feel that quiet, dangerous energy humming through the air. She shifted, trying to wriggle free, but his arm just tightened and pressed her against that unyielding chest.
"Don't even think about running when you're this weak," he murmured. His voice was almost a growl, deep and rough from sleep, with an edge that felt both threatening and, annoyingly, way too seductive.
Eva twisted, fighting him until she finally came face-to-face with those dark eyes, as calm and bottomless as obsidian. "You're sick," she spat out. She yanked at her wrist for emphasis. "A bracelet that says 'Property'? What is this, slavery? You think you bought yourself a person?"
He didn't flinch. Instead, he grabbed her chin, dragging her face so close she could feel his breath ghosting over her lips. "I didn't buy a slave, Eva. You paid for your life with this. And I'm here to teach you what that actually means."
Hours dragged by. Tension smothered every second. Eva never saw the trip to the basement coming, or that the place would be a private gym packed with gear she'd seen only in brutal training videos. Kevin ditched the bedroom for sleek black athletic clothes that clung to every muscle, making it clear he was ready for whatever she threw at him.
"Your hand's busted but you can still use your legs," he said, tossing her a pair of gloves. "Let's see what your old man taught you. Land so much as a finger on my face, and you walk free of that bracelet."
A spark lit behind her eyes, pure fury and the kind of reckless courage that made her reckless. She took a fighting stance, ignoring how her hand throbbed with pain. "You're going to regret challenging me."
The fight was chaos. Eva's kicks sliced through the air—fast, sharp, trained—but Kevin moved like a shadow. No matter what she tried, he was always a step ahead, cool and unreadable, slipping through her attacks with frustrating ease. Sometimes he brushed past her, close enough to send electric shocks down her spine—feelings she tried hard to ignore.
She lunged, all rage and adrenaline, but Kevin caught her easily. In a blink, he'd spun them around; his arm locked under her chin, her body slammed onto the mat, pinned flat beneath him.
"Fast, but you let your feelings control you," he said, breathing hard right into her ear. "In my world, emotions are a death sentence."
Their bodies were flush, sweat and heat mixing, his heart pounding so loudly she almost forgot where she was. The anger blurred—something sharper, stranger, and dangerously close to yearning.
Eva stilled—not because he'd beaten her, but because his closeness blanked out everything, even common sense. Their eyes locked, and the silence was thick, squeezing all the air from her lungs. Then, his hand touched her face, gentle this time. He brushed away a line of sweat, his touch softer than it had any right to be.
"Why are you doing this?" she managed, voice shaky, raw.
He leaned in, his lips almost brushing her skin as he spoke, low and wild, "Because you're the only one who looked me dead in the eye. Everyone else sees a monster. You glared back. And now, I'll break that until you only see me."
He leaned in, inhaling her scent—not a kiss, more like a dangerous promise—and she gasped. It wasn't fear, not really. It was something darker. Something she didn't want to admit.
When night came, Kevin didn't give her a choice—he ordered her into a black silk dress. It clung to her like a secret, and as she walked into the dining room, she felt his eyes on her the entire time. He lounged at the head of a long table, wine in hand, looking at her like she was both his victory and his favorite weapon.
"Tomorrow, you're coming to my company's gala," he said coolly. "You'll be at my side. The whole city will see you—the missing stuntwoman—protected by Kevin Fontaine."
"They'll think you're screwing me," she snapped.
A faint smile, sharp and dangerous, flickered across his mouth. "No. They'll know you're mine. My most prized possession." His eyes lingered, sending another shiver down her back. "They'll be right."
His phone rang. Instantly he was all ice, face shifting to something lethal. "What? The director wants more? Tell him another word and he'll never leave that film set alive."
That's when reality sank in. There was no good side to Kevin, and yet… some part of her, the part that craved chaos, felt drawn to his darkness.
Much later, Eva slipped into bed, mind spinning. That's when she found the note—Sandra's handwriting, urgent and harsh: "Eva, run. Kevin isn't who he says. He caused your father's heart attack. The accident was no accident."
Her blood turned to ice. Before she could move, she saw him in the doorway, holding the note. He met her eyes, that strange, cold smile twisting his lips.
"Enjoy your bedtime story?" His voice was soft but deadly as he crossed the room.
He didn't wait for an answer. "Now," Kevin said, "the real game starts."