I smiled at everyone. It was just me being friendly. I didn’t know one smile would be enough for him to decide I was his. Lucien Ashford. Cold. Brilliant. Terrifying. The guy professors fear and girls whisper about. He started small. My seat. My coffee. My schedule. Then bigger. My friends. My phone. My freedom. “I like that you’re innocent,” he murmured, caging me against the library wall. “It means you won’t understand how dirty my thoughts about you are. Yet.” He says he’s protecting me. But his eyes say I’m already his. I’m just a lively 20-year-old who wanted a normal uni life. He’s a man who doesn’t ask. He takes. And he chose me. Now the question isn’t if I’ll fall for him. It’s if I’ll survive him.