Chapter 3
1525 Words
The elevator ride was silent, but the tension was suffocating.
Nicholas stood beside Elara, one hand in his pocket, the other gripping her wrist—firm, unyielding, like he was daring her to pull away.
She didn’t.
Her heart pounded as the floors ticked higher, the reality of where this was going finally sinking in. His penthouse. His territory. His rules.
What the hell was she doing?
She should stop this before it was too late. Before she was in too deep.
The doors slid open.
Nicholas led her inside, and the moment she stepped in, she knew—this wasn’t just a home. It was a kingdom.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city, casting a soft glow over sleek, black marble floors. Everything screamed wealth, power, control.
Much like the man who owned it.
Elara turned, trying to steady herself. “This… this is insane.”
Nicholas leaned against the door, watching her like a predator indulging in his prey’s last moment of defiance. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.” She crossed her arms, forcing herself to focus. “This? Whatever this is? It’s a mistake.”
Nicholas smirked. “Then why are you still here?”
Elara swallowed. Because I don’t want to leave.
But she couldn’t say that.
She needed to regain control before he swallowed her whole.
Taking a shaky breath, she turned away, determined to create distance. “I should go—”
But Nicholas moved.
Fast.
In an instant, he was behind her, his hands on her hips, his breath at her ear.
Elara froze.
“You keep running, Elara.” His voice was dark silk, wrapping around her, tightening. “But we both know you don’t want to escape.”
She sucked in a breath. “You don’t know me.”
Nicholas chuckled—a low, knowing sound. “Oh, sweetheart.” His lips ghosted over the curve of her neck. Not touching. Just close enough to drive her insane. “I know exactly what you need.”
Elara’s pulse skipped.
She should push him away. Fight back.
But she didn’t.
Because deep down, she knew—he was right.
And that terrified her.
She felt trapped—not by walls, not by force, but by something far more dangerous.
Nicholas Wolfe.
His hands rested on her hips, his fingers pressing just enough to remind her of his control, of the power he held with just a touch. His lips hovered at the curve of her neck, so close, his breath sending a delicious shiver down her spine.
She needed to get away.
But she didn’t move.
Didn’t step forward. Didn’t push him off.
Because the truth?
She didn’t want to.
Nicholas felt it—the way she trembled beneath him. The way her body leaned, ever so slightly, into his.
And that’s when he struck.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her skin.
A simple request. A lifeline.
But she didn’t take it.
Silence filled the space between them, charged, electric.
Nicholas smirked against her neck. “That’s what I thought.”
His grip tightened, pulling her back against him, his body solid, unforgiving. The moment their bodies aligned, a soft, helpless gasp escaped her lips.
Nicholas heard it.
Felt it.
And it wrecked him.
With a low growl, he turned her in his arms, pinning her against the cool marble wall. His hands caged her in, one on either side of her head, his body pressing against hers.
Elara’s breath came in sharp, uneven bursts. “This… this is a mistake.”
Nicholas’s dark gaze flickered with amusement. “Liar.”
Her stomach flipped.
Because he was right.
It wasn’t a mistake. It was inevitable.
Nicholas reached up, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw. “You’re fighting so hard, sweetheart.” His thumb brushed her lower lip, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. “But we both know how this ends.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
She should fight harder.
But when he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze, she shattered.
And Nicholas saw it.
Felt it.
Owned it.
His lips crashed against hers, and this time, Elara didn’t resist.
She met his fire with her own, her hands fisting his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.
Nicholas groaned into her mouth, possessive, demanding, ruthless. His hand slid to her waist, gripping tight, his other tangling into her hair as he took everything.
Elara let him.
Because there was no point in running.
Not when she had already been claimed.
Nicholas kissed her like he was sealing a deal—ruthless, deliberate, and utterly consuming.
Elara felt herself unravel, her fingers gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping her standing. His body pressed against hers, unyielding, dominating, making it clear exactly who was in control.
And the most terrifying part?
She wanted it.
His hand slid lower, fingers skimming the curve of her waist, then lower still, gripping her thigh as he lifted it, pressing her harder against the wall.
Elara gasped into his mouth, and Nicholas swallowed the sound, his tongue sweeping against hers, taking more.
Possessing her.
Marking her.
Her pulse thundered, her mind clouded with a haze of lust and power, a dangerous mix of desire and defiance. She knew the moment she gave in completely, there would be no turning back.
But Nicholas wasn’t giving her time to think.
His lips left a scorching trail down her jaw, then her throat, teeth scraping against her skin just enough to make her shudder.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured against her pulse, his tongue flicking over the sensitive spot.
Elara bit her lip. Damn him. He knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly how to break her down.
She should have resisted.
Instead, her fingers slid up his chest, gripping his suit jacket, needing something—anything—to ground her.
Nicholas chuckled, low and dark. Triumphant.
“That’s it,” he whispered, his hand sliding under her dress, fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over her thigh. “Let me in, sweetheart.”
A warning bell screamed in her mind.
She was losing herself. Losing control.
And Nicholas Wolfe never played fair.
Summoning what little resistance she had left, she turned her head, breaking the kiss, gasping for air.
“Nicholas—”
He stilled.
Not because she told him to stop. But because of how she said his name.
Not breathless. Not pleading.
Shaken.
Something flickered in his gaze—something sharp, unreadable. And for the first time since this began, the raw intensity of it unnerved her.
“Elara.” His voice was lower now, rougher, dangerous in an entirely different way.
Like she wasn’t the only one at risk of losing control.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The only sound in the penthouse was the sharp, uneven rhythm of their breathing.
Then, Nicholas did something she didn’t expect.
He let go.
Stepping back, he raked a hand through his hair, his jaw tight, his breathing just as ragged as hers.
Elara’s knees nearly buckled. She had to force herself to stand, to meet his gaze without showing how badly he had wrecked her.
“What… what are we doing?” she whispered.
Nicholas’s smirk was gone. In its place was something far darker. More dangerous.
Something real.
“What I’ve wanted to do since the moment I saw you,” he said, voice rough, raw. “And you’ve wanted it too, Elara. Stop lying to yourself.”
Her stomach twisted. Because he was right.
And they both knew it.
But before she could respond, before she could make the biggest mistake of her life, a sharp buzz shattered the moment.
Nicholas’s phone.
He ignored it. His eyes never left hers.
The buzzing stopped.
Then started again. More insistent. Urgent.
His jaw ticked. With a low curse, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. One glance at the screen, and his entire demeanor shifted.
The heat, the hunger, the possession—gone.
In its place was cold, ruthless calculation.
A side of him she hadn’t seen yet.
Nicholas turned slightly, pressing the phone to his ear. “What?” His voice was sharp, commanding.
Silence.
Then his expression darkened.
Elara’s stomach tightened.
Whoever was on the other end of the line, whatever they had just said—it wasn’t good.
Nicholas’s jaw clenched. “I’ll handle it.”
The call ended.
For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Didn’t move.
Then, without warning, he reached for his jacket, his entire presence shifting into something lethal.
“Elara.” His voice was low, clipped. “I have to go.”
She blinked. “What? Where—”
Nicholas stepped closer, his fingers brushing her chin, tilting her face up to his. Possessive. Final.
“This isn’t over,” he murmured. A promise. A threat.
Then he was gone.
Leaving Elara breathless, shaken, and drowning in a world she wasn’t ready for.
But ready or not…
There was no escaping Nicholas Wolfe now.
- Writer
