Elias slammed against the locked door, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. The consultation room was small and dim, lit only by the glare of a single, flickering fluorescent light. The air felt thin, thick with the scent of Dante's cologne and the metallic smell of his own fear.
"You're completely insane," Elias breathed, his voice barely a whisper. His wrist was still throbbing where Dante had grabbed him. "You can't just... threaten another doctor like that! You can't lock me in here!"
Dante slowly stepped forward. The unbuttoned silk shirt hung loose on his broad frame, revealing the broad swath of bandages across his ribs. He looked weak, pale, but the intensity burning in his dark eyes was anything but weak. He looked terrifyingly alive.
"Elias," Dante said, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous register that made Elias's spine shiver. "Rule number one was simple: don't look away. You broke that rule."
He advanced another step, forcing Elias deeper into the corner of the room. "And then I find another man—a surgeon, no less—with his hands on you. Touching what belongs to me."
"Julian was just being friendly!" Elias argued, pressing his hands against the wall behind him. "I don't belong to you! You bought the hospital, you didn't buy me."
"Debts must be paid, Elias," Dante said, now standing so close that Elias could feel the heat radiating from his body. "A Moretti life is the highest currency. You saved me. And now, you think you can just go off on dinner dates while my blood is still drying on your gloves?"
"I don't want your thanks! I want my life back!"
"I am giving you your life back," Dante said. He suddenly reached out and touched Elias's neck, his thumbs rubbing gently against Elias's pulse. "You are thirty-five, Elias. A Chief of Neurosurgery. You should be the highest-paid doctor in this entire region. Instead, you're working double shifts in a private hospital. I looked at your finances. You're brilliant, but you are not rich. The system failed you."
Elias couldn't move. Dante's touch was light, almost tender, yet it felt like a shackle. "What are you talking about?"
"A new contract," Dante said, his lips brushing against Elias's ear. He pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pants pocket and pressed it into Elias's hand. "Sign this. You become my exclusive, private doctor. You will have a staff of ten surgeons under you. You will have a budget of ten million dollars a year for your research. And you will never have to answer to a board of directors again."
Elias looked down at the paper. The numbers were staggering. "What's the catch?"
"The catch," Dante said, his voice smooth as velvet, "is that you belong only to me. You don't take dinner dates. You don't look at other men. And when I call, you answer. Every time."
Dante leaned back, a predatory smile spreading across his beautiful, ruthless face. "What is it going to be, Elias? Do you want to be a simple surgeon? Or do you want to be my surgeon?"