The Price of Silence

The library doors didn't just close; they felt like they sealed the rest of the world away. Mateo didn't bother with the overhead lights. The only illumination came from the dying embers in the fireplace, casting flickering, orange-red shadows across the thousands of leather-bound books that lined the walls.

"Sit," he said again, his voice lower than it had been at dinner.

Ariana didn't sit. She stood by the heavy mahogany desk, her hands clenched behind her back so he wouldn't see them shaking. "I'm not doing this, Mateo. I'm not going to be the girl you play with while Cami is out at parties. It’s sick."

Mateo didn't flinch at the word. He set his wine glass on the desk and walked toward her, his movements fluid and predatory. He didn't stop until he was close enough for her to feel the radiated heat of his body.

"Sick?" He tilted his head, his eyes roaming over her face with a terrifying intensity. "What’s sick, Ariana, is the way you look at me when you think no one is watching. What’s sick is that you’re still standing here, arguing with me, instead of running out that door. We both know why you're staying."

"I'm staying because I have nowhere else to go tonight," she whispered, her voice cracking.

"Is that the lie we're telling tonight?" Mateo reached out, his hand wrapping firmly around the back of her neck. He didn't squeeze, but the weight of his palm was an absolute command. He forced her to look up, his thumb resting right against the pulse point that was betrayed her. "You could have called an Uber. You could have walked. But you stayed for the 'supervision.' You stayed because you wanted to see if I’d actually let you go."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers—not a kiss, but a ghost of one, a torture of proximity.

"Tell me about Moreno," he growled. "Did you enjoy the way he looked at you? Did it make you feel safe? Does he know that you were shivering in my hallway last night while I was with another woman?"

"Stop it," she gasped, trying to pull away, but his grip on her neck was like iron.

"I don't think I will." Mateo’s other hand came up, his fingers tracing the high, modest collar of her shirt. "You changed your clothes to hide from me. You put your hair up to look like a girl who follows the rules. But I can hear your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest, Ariana. You're terrified... and you're starving for it."

He gave a sharp, sudden tug on her hair, forcing her head back further. The vulnerability of her exposed throat made her whimper, a sound that seemed to ignite something dark in his eyes.

"You want to be 'normal'?" Mateo hissed, his face inches from hers. "Normal men don't get what they want. They wait for permission. They play by the rules. But I’m not a normal man, and you aren't a normal girl. You're mine. You became mine the second you didn't look away on that balcony."

"I am Cami's friend," she choked out, her last shred of restraint. "If you touch me, if you do anything... you’ll lose her."

"Cami sees what I allow her to see," Mateo countered, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "And right now, she sees a father who is helping her best friend start a new life. If you tell her, who do you think she’ll believe? The man who has provided everything for her, or the girl who admitted she was 'too drunk' to remember the night before?"

He let go of her hair and moved his hand to her waist, hauling her flush against him. Ariana’s hands flew up to his chest, intending to push, but her fingers ended up clutching the fabric of his shirt. The hard, unforgiving line of his body was a reminder of exactly how much power he held.

"You're going to move in tomorrow," he murmured, his lips moving against her jawline. "You're going to sit at my table. You're going to work in my hospital. And every time you look at Cami, you're going to remember exactly how it feels to have my hands on you. That is the price of your 'new life,' Ariana. Do you accept the terms?"

Ariana felt the world spinning. The room, the books, the flickering fire—it all blurred into the dark, obsessive vacuum of Mateo Lopez. She should have said no. She should have fought. But as his mouth finally descended on hers, hard and claiming, the only thing she could do was sink into the ruin he was offering.

She didn't kiss him back—not at first—but she didn't pull away. She stood there, trapped between her loyalty to her friend and the dark, magnetic pull of the man who was currently destroying her life.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his eyes searching hers for the surrender he knew was coming. "Go to bed, Ariana.

He didn't wait for her to respond. He turned and walked back into the shadows of the library, leaving her standing alone in the dark, the taste of red wine and obsession lingering on her lips.