Elena didn’t remember when her breathing evened out. Perhaps it never had. Her chest still rose in quick, shallow gulps as Damiano stood in the doorway of the penthouse bedroom, adjusting the cuffs of his black suit with deliberate slowness. He looked like he was preparing for war, yet there was no army in sight—only her.
“You’re coming with me tonight.” His voice was calm, a simple statement, but the words chained themselves around her like iron.
Her heart lurched. “No. I’m not.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, humorless. “You still think you have a choice?” He moved toward her, the low light of the room throwing sharp lines across his jaw, his eyes gleaming with something merciless. “I let you stay here after what you saw. You should be grateful I didn’t tie you to that bed.”
Her voi
