His to Ruin

him

Morning came down like a thin shadow on the bedroom wall. Sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, casting golden lines that danced across the wooden floor, while the air remained cold and still. Outside, the house began to stir in a slow rhythm.

The sound of a servant passing in a distant hallway, the rustle of fabric in the kitchen, and the occasional soft creak of an old window that still hadn’t been replaced.

I sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee that was no longer warm. My fingers traced the edge of the mug, my eyes fixed on the backyard, which felt too quiet this morning, as if there hadn’t been blood, bullets, and someone standing like a human shield in front of me and Abraham just yesterday.

I didn’t know what was harder to face: the fear that had just started to fade… or the feeling I hadn’t yet found a name for.

Then came the sound of footsteps. Steady. Heavy.

I didn’t need to look.

Alec.

He walked in like he always did. Like gravity, never needing to explain why it pulls everything down. Light gray linen shirt, sleeves haphazardly rolled up, hair slightly tousled like it had just been towel-dried, and that face… the face of someone who never learned how to regret.

He moved to the coffee machine, grabbed a mug, filled it halfway, then sat in the chair across from me like last night’s kiss never happened. No sign. No trace.

I thought he’d stay quiet.

But of course, he didn’t.

“In case you’re wondering,” he said without looking at me, “yeah, I know I kissed you.”

My breath caught in my throat for half a second. I didn’t respond.

He took a sip of his coffee, completely at ease. “And yeah, I’d do it again if it were the same situation.”

My eyes narrowed. “The situation?”

He finally looked at me. Those eyes, dark hazel with lines of exhaustion that never touched his mouth. Sharp, honest, and… hollow in a way that was frightening.

“The deal,” he said flatly. “You walked into my house. I protect you and your son. And in the process, I take what’s already mine.”

My chest tightened. “That kiss—”

“Wasn’t theft,” he cut in. “I took it.”

His words made the world feel smaller.

I set my cup down on the table with a soft but firm clink. “You’re Camilla’s fiancé, Alec. Whatever happened between us, you… belong to her.”

He stared at me for a long moment.

Then, slowly, Alec leaned back in his chair. One arm rested on the backrest, his body relaxing like the question wasn’t even enough to keep him upright.

“Camilla’s dead, Daniella.”

His voice didn’t change, but something inside it collapsed by an inch. “And fiancé is a title that only counts if one of you’s still breathing.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

“I didn’t kiss you by mistake,” he continued, voice low, almost flat. “I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I could.”

My hands curled into fists on the table.

“You can’t keep treating people like they’re yours.”

Alec stood up.

One smooth motion. Calm. As if last night’s wounds didn’t exist, as if the world was still fully under his control.

He walked toward me.

Heavy, certain steps, like the ticking of time that can’t be delayed.

When he stood in front of me, I turned my head away but he reached for my chin and gently turned my face back, no force, no pressure. Just unshakable intent.

“And you,” he said quietly, “keep thinking I’ll stop.”

Before I could speak, his lips had already closed the distance. Again.

But this time, there was no hesitation. No pause.

The kiss was deep, dark, and cold like the night sea. But beneath all of it, something more dangerous lurked. A desire not born from love, but from possession. From a claim that didn’t need words.

His hand moved to the back of my neck, holding me like a secret too precious to lose. His lips locked onto mine, leaving no room for pretending. I could feel his breath, his heat, the way he kissed like the world could end any second, and he wasn’t going to waste a single one.

When he finally pulled back, just a few inches, his eyes stayed on mine.

“You’re staying here, Daniella,” he whispered. “And I won’t let anyone touch what I’ve already touched.”

Then he turned.

Left like a storm that knew exactly where the wind would take it.

And I… I was still sitting there, breath heavy, chest full, and my whole body trembling with one truth more dangerous than any bullet.

:::

The night sky wrapped the city in a shade that wasn’t quite black. More like a heavy charcoal gray, hanging low and full of hidden intent. From my bedroom window, the distant hum of traffic drifted in, but inside Alec’s mansion, everything was the same—too quiet to be called comforting.

I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my room, a long black dress cascading down my body like a shadow. The cut was simple, elegant—the back dipped low to my waist, the neckline high. Not overly revealing, but enough to make it clear I wasn’t attending tonight as just another guest.

My hands trembled slightly as I fastened the last earring. I wasn’t even sure why I’d been invited to this dinner. Alec had only said quietly at lunch:

“My leverage tonight needs a face that makes people forget to question my motives.”

And apparently… that was me.

I looked at my reflection. Eyes too used to fear, a jaw that clenched too often, and lips that still held the memory of a kiss from a man who should’ve been far removed from all of this.

A soft knock on the door made me turn.

Then the door opened, just like that. Alec walked in.

No permission, as usual.

He was in a black suit. The tailoring clung to him like it had been carved into place—precise and cold. His shirt was a deep navy, almost black, no tie, the top two buttons undone. His hair was slicked back, but not stiff. Just enough to show he knew how to look like a king… or a devil.

I froze as our eyes met through the mirror.

His gaze moved slowly, from the hem of the dress to my shoulders, then to my jawline. He didn’t say a word, but the air between us changed temperature immediately.

“Is it too much?” I asked, my voice flatter than I meant it to be.

“No,” he said shortly. “But if you wear that in front of the people I’ve invited tonight… there’s one thing you need to understand.”

“What?”

“They’re going to look at you, Daniella.” He stepped closer. “And I’ll remember every single one who looks too long.”

My hand clenched against the fabric of the dress. “You can’t control everything, Alec.”

“I’m not trying to control,” he said, now standing right behind me. “I’m warning you.”

He leaned in. His breath grazed my neck. Not touching skin, but close—too close.

“You know who’s going to be at this party tonight?” he whispered.

I shook my head slightly.

“People who smile while hiding knives behind Armani jackets. Who talk about art while planning murder in the same breath.” He paused, then added, “And they’re all going to look at you.”

I swallowed hard.

He looked at me through the mirror, and in that reflection, my eyes met his. His gaze wasn’t angry. Not soft. But solid. Dark. Like a pothole in the road you know you shouldn’t step into… but you do anyway.

His hand touched my shoulder. No pressure. Just resting there.

“Are you scared?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. The answer was too complicated.

Then he whispered, “Good.”

And before I could turn around, his lips brushed against my shoulder. Light. Hot. Misleading. A small kiss on skin that hadn’t been touched in far too long.

I turned to face him.

Our eyes locked. And without warning, he kissed me again.

But not like this morning. Not a reminder. Not a claim.

This was a threat.

A kiss spoken in a language only understood by those who know how to survive a war—and sometimes, have to kiss the enemy to stay alive.

His hand gripped my waist, his mouth crashing into mine with a dangerous patience. Not rough. But sealing. Possessing.

I nearly forgot why I was wearing this dress. Or why we had somewhere to be.

Then he pulled back. Barely. His eyes stayed locked on mine.

“Tonight,” he said softly, “you don’t speak unless I say so. And you don’t touch anyone.”

“I’m not yours,” I whispered, though my voice was weak.

He nodded.

“Exactly. But tonight, everyone else will believe you are.”

And before I could say another word, he stepped back, checked his watch, and said:

“We leave in ten minutes. Don’t make me wait.”

Then he walked out, leaving the door wide open.

And I stood in front of the mirror, realizing this dress, these shoes, this whole body—none of it belonged to me tonight.

Tonight, I was Alec Romano’s weapon.

And he never pulled the trigger with a shaking hand.