Ruthless Desires

Chapter 4 – Confrontation

(POV Anna)

I didn’t move.

Not when the weight of Dominic’s words sank into my chest like an anchor. Not when his glacier-blue eyes narrowed, cutting through me with the precision of a scalpel. And certainly not when he leaned back against the edge of the bar, arms crossed, body relaxed—but gaze sharp and unrelenting.

He wasn’t going to let me walk away.

The room was too quiet now, thick with tension and laced with something else—something hot and volatile that buzzed beneath my skin. The low hum of the club’s bass vibrated through the floor, muffled by the soundproof walls, but in here, it felt like a heartbeat. His heartbeat. Mine. Syncing, clashing, spinning too close to something I couldn’t afford to feel.

The private lounge above Club Lux was sleek and cold. Chrome fixtures. Black velvet walls. A single gold chandelier casting fractured light across the polished floor. Everything about the room was designed to intimidate—like its owner. I’d seen Dominic control entire rooms with a glance, but now all of that power was zeroed in on me.

"You’re not walking out of here," he said, his voice silk-wrapped steel, "until I get the truth."

I clenched my hands into fists, my nails digging crescents into my palms. “I told you everything,” I bit out. “I needed a job. That’s it.”

His laugh was quiet, dark. “You really expect me to believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

He stepped forward, just a few inches—close enough to shift the air. “Because you’re here. In my club. After five goddamn years. That’s not a coincidence, Anna. That’s something else.”

I straightened my spine, trying to match the cold steel in his gaze. “Believe whatever you want, Dominic. I don’t owe you an explanation.”

The flicker in his eyes told me that stung. Good. Let him feel something other than smug superiority.

“You don’t owe me?” he echoed, voice low, bitter. “After the way you left? No note. No call. Just silence. You vanished.”

“I had my reasons.”

“Then say them. Out loud. Right now.”

“I can’t,” I whispered.

That one syllable changed everything. The air thickened. His stance shifted. His jaw locked.

“You can’t,” he repeated slowly, like he was trying to decide if I was pathetic or dangerous. “Or you won’t?”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The truth was buried so deep beneath fear and necessity that digging it up would only hurt the one person I was trying to protect.

“I’m not doing this,” I said, stepping toward the door.

Before I could reach it, his hand caught my wrist.

Heat flared—dangerous, immediate. The jolt was visceral, like electricity jumping through skin. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm. Controlled. My breath hitched before I could stop it.

“Don’t,” he said, low and guttural. “Don’t walk away from me again.”

I stared at him, heart pounding, breath uneven. His touch sent fire through my bloodstream, reigniting memories I thought I’d burned to ash—his hands in my hair, his mouth at my throat, the way he used to say my name like it was a promise and a threat.

“I’m not the same person you knew,” I said, my voice shaking despite my best effort. “I don’t owe you anything, Dominic. Not anymore.”

His grip tightened. Just slightly. His body leaned closer, enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, smell the sharp notes of his cologne—cedarwood and danger.

“Maybe not,” he murmured. “But I’m still not letting you go without answers.”

“You don’t get to interrogate me,” I snapped.

A ghost of a smile curved his lips—cold, sharp, and maddeningly beautiful. “Is that what this is?”

“What else would you call it?”

“Closure,” he said. “Or maybe foreplay. It’s hard to tell with us.”

My breath caught, and I hated that it did. He let go of my wrist, but the space between us didn’t grow. If anything, it shrank. His presence loomed, magnetic and suffocating.

“Five years,” he said. “You think I can just ignore that? That I can see you here—working tables in my club like you never left—and do nothing?”

I swallowed hard. The words stung because they were true. I had hoped, naively, that I could slip in and out of this world unnoticed. But Dominic was never the type to forget what was his.

“I didn’t have a choice,” I said, voice ragged.

“Bullshit.”

The word landed like a blow. I flinched, but didn’t look away.

“You had a choice, Anna. You just didn’t trust me enough to give it to me.”

“It wasn’t about trust.”

“Then what was it about?” he demanded, stepping even closer.

I felt like I was suffocating. The walls of the room blurred. My pulse roared in my ears. His scent, his voice, the way he looked at me—it was too much.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why? Because you don’t think I can handle it?” His voice dropped, low and lethal. “Or because you’re afraid of what I’ll do when I find out?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. The truth sat lodged in my throat like a shard of glass.

He exhaled, slow and deliberate. “You’re hiding something.”

I didn’t deny it.

“Why this club?” he asked again, voice quieter now, but no less intense. “Why me?”

“It was just a job,” I lied. The words felt hollow the moment they left my lips.

“Liar.”

The word curled off his tongue with such certainty it stole the air from my lungs.

“I needed the money,” I said, grasping for something solid. “That’s all.”

“For what?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Stop saying that,” he growled. “You don’t get to decide what matters to me.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. His anger was barely contained, a storm at sea held back by the thinnest thread of self-control. But beneath it, there was something else—need. And it terrified me how much I felt it too.

“I have to go,” I said, moving toward the door.

He blocked it, his body inches from mine, taller, broader, familiar in a way that made me ache.

“You’re not leaving,” he said, voice soft and deadly. “Not until I get the truth.”

The air between us crackled, charged and volatile. I could feel the tension stretch taut, a live wire ready to snap. My breath was shallow. His gaze dropped to my mouth, then back to my eyes. My skin prickled.

“I don’t owe you anything,” I said, but it came out as a breathless tremor.

“You keep saying that,” he said, leaning in until his mouth was near my ear. “But the way you’re looking at me says otherwise.”

My body betrayed me. My skin burned where his breath touched it. My thighs clenched of their own accord, a shameful, involuntary response to a man who had once owned every part of me.

“I’m not the girl you left behind,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.

“No,” he said. “You’re something else now. But you’re still mine.”

I gasped, a quiet, involuntary sound that seemed to break whatever spell was holding us in place.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to let me breathe again, but his expression remained hard, relentless. “You’re hiding something. And I will find out what it is.”

I met his gaze one last time, feeling the full weight of his words, knowing they were a promise. A threat. A vow.

“Do whatever you want,” I said, my voice steady now, cold. “It won’t change anything.”

Dominic studied me for a long, tense moment, then stepped aside. “Then get out.”

I didn’t wait. My heels echoed against the floor as I rushed to the door, adrenaline still roaring in my veins.

But even as the chaos of Club Lux swallowed me whole, I knew the confrontation was far from over.

Dominic Moretti wasn’t done with me.

And God help me—I wasn’t done with him either.