Into the Lion's Den

Alessia wasn’t sure what she had expected when she agreed—or rather, was forced—to leave with Damian. But she certainly hadn’t expected to be whisked away in a sleek black car that screamed wealth and danger in equal measure.

The second she slid into the passenger seat, Damian shut the door behind her and circled the car, slipping into the driver’s seat with effortless ease. The engine purred to life, and the vehicle glided onto the road like a predator prowling through the city streets.

She crossed her arms, trying to suppress the unease settling in her stomach. "Where exactly are you taking me?"

Damian didn’t glance at her, his hands steady on the wheel. "Somewhere safe."

Alessia exhaled sharply. "You really like being cryptic, don’t you?"

"Would it make a difference if I told you?"

She turned her head to glare at him. "It would make me feel less like a kidnapped hostage."

His lips quirked in amusement. "If you were a hostage, sweetheart, you'd be tied up in the backseat."

Her breath hitched at the way he said it—low, smooth, and entirely too confident.

She snapped her gaze forward, refusing to let him see that his words had affected her.

Minutes passed in tense silence, the city lights blurring as they drove. Alessia tried to keep track of the streets they passed, but it quickly became clear that they were leaving familiar territory.

When the car finally pulled up in front of a massive estate, her stomach clenched.

The mansion loomed before them, all sharp edges and sleek, modern architecture. Tall iron gates secured the perimeter, and armed guards flanked the entrance.

She turned to Damian, her heart pounding. "What the hell is this place?"

"My home," he said simply.

Her mouth went dry.

Of course, he lived in a place like this.

A fortress. A palace built for a king.

The guards nodded as Damian drove through the gates, their sharp gazes flickering to Alessia for only a second before looking away.

"Let me guess," she muttered. "They’re not just here for decoration."

Damian parked the car and turned to her, his expression unreadable. "They’re here to make sure no one touches what’s mine."

Something in the way he said it sent a shiver through her.

She swallowed hard, gripping the strap of her bag. "And I’m supposed to feel safe here?"

"You’re supposed to be smart enough to know this is your best option," Damian said smoothly.

She hated that he was right.

With a sigh, she reached for the door handle, but before she could open it, Damian leaned over, his scent—a mix of expensive cologne and something darker—filling her senses.

She froze as his fingers brushed against her wrist.

"One rule, Alessia," he murmured. "No wandering. You don’t leave this house unless I say so."

Her pulse spiked.

She should have pushed back. She should have fought harder.

But instead, she whispered, "And if I do?"

Damian’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smirk. "Then I’ll have to remind you why that’s a bad idea."

Her breath caught, heat pooling in her stomach.

She had just stepped into the lion’s den.

And the lion was watching her like she was already his.

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