Chapter six
829 Words
Elena didn’t remember the drive. One minute she was protesting in her apartment, the next she was standing in Damian’s penthouse…glass walls, sweeping views of Paris, and a silence heavy with his presence.
“I’m not staying here,” she snapped the moment he set down her bag.
“Yes, you are.” His tone left no room for argument. “You’re safer here.”
“Safe? With you?” She folded her arms.
Damian’s eyes darkened. “Safer with me than with the men who broke into your apartment.”
Her chest tightened. He wasn’t wrong, and that terrified her more than the threat itself.
He poured two glasses of wine, handed one to her. “Sit. Drink. You need it.”
She hesitated, then sank onto the sofa, gripping the glass like a lifeline.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked finally. “Why chase me when you could have anyone?”
His gaze locked on hers, unflinching. “Because they’re not you.”
Her heart lurched.
The air thickened between them, charged and dangerous. Elena broke eye contact first, standing abruptly. “I should leave. I can’t….”
The elevator chimed.
Damian’s head snapped up, instantly alert. He pressed a finger to his lips and moved silently toward the door.
Elena’s pulse raced. She followed, her breath caught in her throat.
The doors opened and a stranger stepped out, tall, dark-coated, expression unreadable.
Damian’s arm shot out, slamming him against the wall. “Who sent you?” he growled.
The man choked out, “Delivery…wine for Mr. Cross”
Elena’s hands flew to her mouth. Damian searched the man’s pockets, finding nothing but an invoice. He released him with a shove.
“Get out,” Damian snapped.
The man fled.
Elena’s knees trembled. “You can’t live like this.”
“You can’t live without it,” Damian countered. His voice softened. “You think you ran to escape me. But what you were really running from was this world. The truth. And you can’t.”
Tears burned her eyes. “I don’t want this life anymore.”
“You don’t have a choice, Elena. Not while they’re hunting you.”
Her breath hitched. “And what if it’s you I need protecting from?”
For the first time, Damian’s mask slipped. Pain flickered in his eyes.
“Then I’ll protect you from myself too,” he said hoarsely.
Elena turned away, her chest aching. She had wanted freedom, but instead, she was caged again only this time, the bars were built from danger and desire. And the worst part? A piece of her heart didn’t want to escape.
Elena woke to sunlight spilling through glass walls, disoriented. For a split second, she forgot where she was. Then the scent of Damian’s cologne hit her and everything rushed back.
His penthouse. His rules.
She sat up on the sofa still in yesterday’s dress. Damian was in the kitchen with his shirt sleeves rolled up pouring coffee like it was any ordinary morning.
“Good,” he said without turning. “You’re awake.”
“I’m leaving.”
He faced her, coffee in hand, his expression calm but iron underneath. “No, you’re not.”
Elena’s jaw clenched. “You can’t keep me here.”
His gaze darkened. “Watch me.”
She stood, disobeying him. “This is kidnapping.”
“If it keeps you breathing, call it what you want.” He handed her a mug. “Drink.”
Her hands trembled as she took it. “You can’t control me forever Damian.”
“I don’t need forever,” he said quietly. “I just need long enough to end this.”
Something in his tone chilled her. She set the mug down untouched.
Later, as she wandered the penthouse, she realized every door had security locks. The elevator required Damian’s fingerprint. Cameras lined the hall.
It wasn’t safety. It was a cage.
When Damian returned from a phone call, she confronted him. “You locked me in.”
“You’re not a prisoner,” he said evenly.
“Then why do I feel like one?”
He stepped closer, his voice low. “Because freedom has always been your illusion, Elena. With me, at least you’re alive.”
Her chest tightened, torn between fury and the echo of old longing.
That night, she sat by the window, staring at the Paris skyline. She whispered to herself, “I can’t live like this.”
A voice answered from the shadows. “Then you shouldn’t have left me.”
She turned. Damian was leaning against the wall, his eyes unreadable.
“Every choice has a price,” he said softly. “And this one? It might cost us both.”
Her phone buzzed on the table. A message flashed across the screen.
We know where you are. Penthouse or prison, you can’t hide.
Elena’s blood ran cold. Someone had found here even here.
- Writer
