CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3

ADRIEN

The next time I woke up, I was moving.

No, not moving — flying.

The low hum of an engine vibrated under my skin. The air smelled like leather, cologne, and something faintly metallic.

I blinked blearily, forcing my heavy body to sit up. Plush white seats, gold trims, thick carpet. A private jet.

What the actual hell.

My head throbbed, but when I tilted it back against the seat, my eyes caught something above the cockpit door.

A small, elegant crest. Black and gold.

A lion with a crown.

The word Moretti curled underneath it.

I sucked in a slow breath through my nose.

Well, shit.

You’d have to be living under a rock not to know the Moretti name. Even in the shiny, safe part of the world I lived in, you heard the rumors. Drugs. Arms. Blood. Power. Mafia royalty.

And now, apparently, my new landlords.

I sighed loudly, dragging a hand through my hair. My fingers snagged on tangles and dried sweat. Great. I probably looked like I crawled out of a damn dumpster.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him.

The man from the lavish room.

He was sitting two seats away, typing away on his phone like he had a board meeting to prepare for instead of babysitting a kidnapped brat.

Still gorgeous, damn him.

I stared at him openly, letting my head loll to the side against the seat.

"Hey," I said. My voice was scratchy but still carried the smugness I felt deep in my bones. "Where’s your boss?"

He didn’t even glance up.

I leaned closer, grinning. "Or wait — are you the boss?"

That finally got a reaction. He flicked his eyes up to me, one dark brow arched in silent question.

"And what makes you so sure I'm not?" he asked, voice low and cool.

I smirked. "Easy. Three reasons."

I lifted a finger. "One — you’re doing grunt work. Babysitting. A real boss would have better things to do."

Another finger. "Two — no ring. Bosses wear something flashy. Show they’ve made it."

Final finger. "Three — you’re too...pretty." I tilted my head, taking him in slowly. "Bosses usually look meaner. You look like you belong on a runway."

He snorted softly, shaking his head and going back to his phone.

I grinned wider, undeterred.

"So, pretty boy. What’s your name?"

He paused, like he was weighing whether answering me was worth the effort.

Finally, he muttered, "Damon."

"Damon," I repeated, letting the name roll off my tongue. "Fitting."

He didn’t look up.

I propped my elbow on the armrest, resting my chin on my hand.

"You’ve got really beautiful lips, Damon."

His thumb paused mid-scroll.

"Tell me," I said, flashing a slow, wicked smile, "do you swing that way?"

Damon set his phone down deliberately and turned his head to face me. His expression was the human embodiment of tired.

"No," he said flatly. "Fully straight."

I clutched my chest dramatically. "Ouch. Right in the heart. You wound me."

He stared at me for a long moment, expression unreadable.

"You’re not what I expected," he said finally.

I grinned. "Good. Life’s more fun with surprises, don't you think?"

He leaned back, rubbing his temple like he had a migraine coming on.

I leaned closer. "You sure about the straight thing, though? I mean, a man can change his mind..."

That was apparently the last straw.

Without a word, Damon reached under his seat, pulled out a roll of duct tape, and ripped a long strip free.

I laughed. "Oh, come on, you wouldn't dare—"

He slapped it over my mouth with surprising gentleness but firm finality.

I made a muffled protest, eyes sparkling with amusement as he pressed the tape down to seal it.

"There," he said with a rare ghost of a smile. "Much better."

I glared at him playfully, wriggling in my seat like a kid.

Damon pulled out a small syringe from his jacket.

Oh.

The amusement dimmed slightly. I shook my head violently, but he just sighed like he was dealing with a particularly annoying puppy.

"You'll thank me later," he said, almost apologetically, before jabbing it into my arm.

I flinched, muffling a sound behind the tape.

The world immediately started to tilt and blur at the edges.

My limbs went heavy. My eyelids drooped.

Damon's voice was the last thing I heard before slipping under again.

"Sleep tight, pretty boy. You’re gonna need it."