Chapter 6:A dangerous game
667 Words
The moment Ellie was summoned to Salvador’s study, she knew she was in deep trouble.
Her pulse thudded as she walked down the long hallway, her bare feet cold against the marble. The house was silent—too silent. Every step closer felt like a countdown to something she couldn’t prepare for.
When she reached the heavy double doors, she paused.
Breathed.
Knocked once.
“Come in.”
His voice, smooth and low, rolled through her like the scent of smoke before fire.
She opened the door and stepped inside.
The study was shadowed and still. Bookshelves towered around her. A fireplace glowed low, casting gold against the dark walls. Salvador stood by the window, his shirt sleeves rolled up, no tie, two fingers resting on a glass of whiskey.
He didn’t look at her.
Didn’t need to.
“Shut the door,” he said.
She did.
Then waited.
Still, he didn’t turn.
“I gave you a home,” he said finally. “Security. A chance to live, even after you saw what no one else should have. And you tried to run.”
“I didn’t ask for any of this,” she said. Her voice shook a little—and she hated that it did.
He turned, slowly, his eyes darker than she remembered. “No. You didn’t. But you accepted it the second you stepped into my world.”
He crossed the room, unhurried, like a predator that had all the time in the world. When he stopped in front of her, the air grew tight.
“I should lock you in the basement,” he murmured, “until you learn respect.”
She forced herself to look him in the eye. “I won’t sleep with you.”
A pause. Then—his mouth curved, but it wasn’t a smile.
“I won’t touch you without your permission,” he said softly. “And you’ll be begging for it.”
Heat surged through her chest—equal parts fury and something else she refused to name.
He leaned in, not close enough to touch, but enough for her breath to catch.
“You think I’m angry because you tried to escape?” he asked. “I’m not. I expected it. I even respect it. But don’t confuse mercy for weakness, Ellie.”
She swallowed hard. “So what, you’re going to punish me?”
He stepped around her, slow, circling her like he was deciding where to strike.
“No,” he said behind her. “Punishment implies pain. I prefer… restraint.”
He came to her side and lifted his hand—not to touch her, but to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. He didn’t even make contact.
But she flinched anyway.
His voice lowered to a whisper. “See? All I have to do… is nothing. And still, you react.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be.”
She turned to him, anger flaring again. “Then just do it. Hurt me. Lock me up. Whatever it is you’re trying to prove, get it over with.”
He chuckled—dark and amused.
“Oh no, Ellie,” he said, stepping closer, his voice now just above her skin. “This isn’t about hurting you. This is about breaking you in.”
She took a step back, pulse racing.
“Dismissed,” he said, turning away.
She didn’t move.
“You brought me here just to scare me?” she snapped.
“I brought you here,” he said without turning, “so you’d stop confusing your position in this house.”
“And what is my position?”
He looked at her finally. Dangerous. Icy. Beautiful.
“Mine.”
⸻
She stormed out before he could see the way her hands trembled.
Not from fear.
Not entirely.
Because the scariest part wasn’t what he said…
…it was the part of her that almost wanted to stay and hear more.
- Writer
