He smirked.
That same devilish, knowing smirk like he knew something I didn't. Like he held all the cards. Like he already knew I’d fold.
He stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him without him even glancing back. His boots echoed softly against the polished wood floor as he closed the distance between us, slow and deliberate.
My breath hitched.
Not in fear.
But in disbelief.
"What are you doing here?" I asked again, my voice firm, I wasn't about to show fear.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he just looked at me like I was some intricate puzzle he had already solved. Then he raised his hand—elegantly, lazily—and extended it toward me.
"Come with me," he said smoothly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Let’s make this easy—for both of us."
My eyes dropped to his outstretched hand, then snapped back to his face.
"I’m not going anywhere."
His expression didn’t falter.
He tilted his head slightly, studying me like a hawk studies its prey.
"You belong to me,
