Chapter 7: The First Threat
The car ride back to the mansion was thick with tension. Not the kind that came from fear—but the kind that burned, electric and raw.
Elena’s skin still tingled where Abina’s fingers had brushed against her neck, his words echoing in her head.
You are mine.
She should have hated the way he said it. Should have pushed him away.
But she hadn’t.
And that terrified her more than the threats lurking outside these walls.
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A Storm Behind Closed Doors
The moment they arrived at the estate, Abina’s phone buzzed. He answered without a word, his expression hardening as he listened.
Elena stepped out of the car, her pulse still unsteady.
She turned toward the grand entrance, but before she could take another step, Abina’s voice cut through the night.
“Elena.”
She turned.
He was watching her, his dark eyes unreadable in the dim glow of the mansion’s lights.
“Go inside,” he ordered. “Stay in our wing.”
Something about his tone sent a shiver down her spine.
“What’s wrong?”
A long pause. Then—“Nothing you need to worry about.”
A lie.
Elena knew it instantly.
But she also knew that pushing him for answers right now wouldn’t work.
So instead, she nodded once, holding his gaze for a beat longer before turning and walking inside.
She could feel his eyes on her back the entire way.
---
A Dangerous Game
By the time she reached their shared wing, Elena was still buzzing with adrenaline.
She wasn’t stupid. That man at the gala—the one who had watched her too closely—wasn’t just some businessman. He had rattled Abina, even if he’d never admit it.
And now, something was happening. Something she wasn’t meant to know.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the zipper of her gown.
“Elena.”
She froze.
The voice was low, rich, and far too close.
She turned slowly, only to find Abina standing in the doorway.
He was no longer wearing his tuxedo jacket. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing the strong lines of his forearms, and the top buttons were undone, revealing just a tease of golden skin.
The air between them thickened.
“You’re supposed to be handling… whatever that was,” she murmured.
“I am.” He stepped closer, his presence swallowing the space between them.
Elena swallowed. “Then why are you here?”
Abina’s eyes darkened. “Because I don’t like loose ends.”
Her pulse jumped.
“Loose ends?”
He reached out, fingers brushing over her exposed shoulder. His touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent a wildfire through her veins.
“You looked too good tonight,” he murmured, his voice a slow drag of heat. “You made them notice you.”
Elena held her breath as his fingers traced a slow path down her arm.
“Wasn’t that the point?” she whispered.
His lips curved, but there was something dangerous behind it.
“No,” he said. “The point was for them to see you as mine. But some men…” His fingers ghosted over her collarbone, his breath warm against her cheek. “They see things they shouldn’t.”
Elena’s skin burned where he touched her.
“And what do you want me to do about that?” she murmured.
Abina tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Be careful, mi esposa,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. “You’re playing with fire.”
Elena’s breath hitched.
But instead of pulling away—she leaned in.
The air snapped between them.
A sharp inhale. A moment’s hesitation.
Then, Abina’s grip tightened, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that stole the breath from her lungs.
Possessive. Unrelenting. A claim as much as a warning.
Elena should have stopped him. Should have reminded him that this was just a contract.
But when his hands gripped her waist, pulling her against him—when his mouth moved against hers like he was memorizing her—she forgot everything except the way he felt.
Heat. Power. The quiet promise of ruin.
And worst of all?
She wanted more.
---
The Distraction
By the time Abina finally pulled away, both of them were breathing hard.
Elena’s fingers were still curled into his shirt, as if she wasn’t ready to let go.
He studied her for a long moment, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles over her hip.
Then, with a smirk that made her knees weak, he murmured, “I told you.”
Her heart pounded.
“Told me what?”
Abina leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.
“That you’re mine.”
Then, just as quickly as he had unraveled her—he stepped back.
The heat between them snapped.
Elena barely managed to catch her breath before he was already walking toward the door.
“Get some sleep, cariño,” he said without looking back.
And then he was gone.
Leaving her standing in the middle of the room, skin still burning, pulse still racing—wondering if she had just made her most dangerous mistake yet.
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