MARRIED TO THE COLD CEO BY MISTAKE

Nowhere to Run

Damien’s gaze lingered on the open door for a moment too long. Then, without a word, he reached past Sarah and shut it with a soft, final click.

Her pulse quickened. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he removed his jacket, draping it over the back of the couch, and loosened his tie. The subtle display of control — of claiming the space — was almost more intimidating than shouting.

“I told you not to open the door,” he said finally, his voice dangerously calm.

“I didn’t—”

“Sarah.” Her name rolled off his tongue like a warning. “Don’t lie to me.”

She crossed her arms, refusing to flinch. “And maybe you should start explaining why random women are showing up here warning me about you.”

His jaw ticked. “Claire.” He said the name like it was a foul taste in his mouth. “She’s a problem I thought I handled years ago.”

Sarah frowned. “Handled?”

He ignored the question and reached for her wrist. “Get your bag.”

Her instinct was to pull away, but his grip tightened — not painful, just firm enough to remind her of the imbalance of power between them.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she snapped.

His lips curled into a humorless smile. “You’re already mine, Sarah. There’s nowhere you can go where I can’t find you.”

A shiver ran down her spine. “That sounds like a threat.”

“That’s because it is.”

Minutes later, they were in his sleek black car, the city lights flashing past the tinted windows. Sarah pressed her palms to her knees, determined not to let him see her fear.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Somewhere safe,” he said, eyes fixed on the road.

“I was safe in the penthouse—”

“No, you weren’t.” His tone was sharp enough to cut through her protest. “Claire finding you means the walls are closing in. And when that happens, people die.”

Sarah stared at him, searching his face for any crack in the mask, but he remained as unreadable as ever.

The car turned down a long, private drive lined with tall hedges. At the end was a modern glass estate, the kind of place that looked like it belonged in an architectural magazine.

“Where are we?” she asked as the car stopped.

Damien finally looked at her, his dark eyes glinting in the dim light. “Home. At least, the one no one knows about.”

She hesitated before stepping out, the cool night air brushing her skin. The place was beautiful, but there was something unsettling about its isolation.

As the heavy front door shut behind them, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she hadn’t been rescued.

She’d been captured.