Chapter Four :The Dom Behind the Mask

Aria's pov

Present day

I didn’t sit.

Not at first.

Not when his eyes, those same eyes that once held me in the chokehold of pleasure and pain were lklocked onto mine.

Not when I watched his mouth curl ever so slightly at the corner like he was entertained by my shock.

He looked like… words couldn't even describe how amazing he looked. Like danger and safety at once. He didn’t have to say a word for me to feel it, that commanding presence I’d only experienced blindfolded and on my knees was now flesh and blood in the daylight.

“Aria,” he said, his voice smooth and sweet as old wine. “We meet again.”

His tone was maddeningly calm. ut I felt the steel beneath it. I knew better than anyone: that voice could coax obedience from a soul screaming no.

I forced my legs to move and crossed the room, spine straight, heels silent against the carpeted floor. I lowered myself into the leather chair across from him, chin high.

I wouldn’t flinch. I couldn’t.

“You knew,” I said.

It wasn’t a question.

He sipped from his glass slowly before setting it down. “I’ve always known.”

I stared at him. “You planned this. From the start. The club, the contract, the name… Dominus? Dom? Really?”

His lips quirked. “You liked the name well enough when you were moaning it.”

My breath caught. My thighs clenched involuntarily and I hated that he noticed.

“Oh?” he mused. “Are you already wet for me, cara mia?”

I didn’t answer. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to run but I sat frozen in place, tension coursing through my body ready to snap at any moment.

“I should’ve known you were a Moretti,” I spat. “Only someone that twisted would stalk me and force me into submission.”

“I didn’t stalk you now did I force you” he said simply. “I studied you.”

That was somehow worse.

“And what did you learn?”

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, gaze sharp. “That you’re brilliant. Proud. Ruthless. A beautiful creature with a steel exterior. But underneath all that armor…” His voice dropped. “You crave surrender. You crave someone who can bring you to your knees and remind you who you are beneath the mask.”

I bristled. “You don’t know me.”

“I know what your body begs for when your mouth says no.”

I slammed my hands on the table between us. “This isn’t the club. This is real. You can’t tie me to your bed and think I’ll call that a marriage.”

He didn’t even flinch. “Marriage is a contract. Just like the one you signed last night. You chose to give yourself to me.”

“I didn’t know who you were!”

“But you knew what I was,” he said. “And you still bent. You chose submission. Your body chose me before your mind caught up.”

I stared at him, fury bubbling beneath my skin and something else. Something dark and warm and terrifying. A thrill I wasn’t ready to name.

He stood slowly, walked around the desk, and came to a stop in front of me.

I stayed seated, refusing to give him the satisfaction of backing away. But my breath hitched as he leaned down, palms resting on the arms of my chair, boxing me in.

“You can fight this all you want,” he murmured, his breath brushing my cheek. “But you belong to me now. On paper. In pain. In pleasure. And I always collect what’s mine.”

My heart thudded violently. “You don’t own me.”

“I do,” he said. “And you’ll feel it. Every night. Every day. Every time you disobey and I punish you for it. You’ll learn your place.”

“And what place is that?” I whispered, unable to stop myself.

His hand slid into my hair, pulling just enough to make my spine arch.

“On your knees,” he said, voice low and seductive. “But not yet.”

I swallowed hard, torn between slapping him and climbing into his lap. The room was too hot. The air too thick.

“You’re delusional if you think I’m going to smile for the photos and play happy housewife to a Moretti,” I snapped.

“I don’t want a housewife,” he said. “I want you, sharp tongue and all. I want the woman who bites and burns. Because when she breaks, she shatters perfectly.”

My thighs clenched again.

“Let me be very clear,” I said, steadying my voice. “I’m only here because my family gave me no choice. I have no intention of staying married to you.”

He straightened slowly, adjusting his cuffs. “You’ll change your mind.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I do,” he said again. “I know your limits. I know how to break you and I know exactly what it’ll take to make you beg for this marriage.”

I stood, glaring. “Try me.”

His smile was slow. Dark. Dangerous.

“I intend to.”

A knock interrupted us, sharp and abrupt.

He turned toward the door. “Come.”

A guard entered, bowed slightly. “Sir. Everything is prepared.”

“Good.” Nero looked at me. “Your room is ready. You’ll stay in the east wing. Dinner is at eight. Be on time.”

I scoffed. “You don’t get to command me.”

“Oh, but I do.” His gaze swept over me like a predator eyeing it's food. “And the sooner you remember that, the more fun we’ll have.”

I turned to leave.

“Oh, Aria,” he said just as I reached the door.

I paused, hating how my name sounded like a melody from his lips.

He walked to his desk and picked up a velvet box, then strode toward me.

He opened it.

Inside was a collar.

Black leather. Elegant. Subtle.

Engraved on the inside: Property of Dominus.

My pulse roared in my ears.

“Consider this your welcome gift,” he said. “You’ll wear it when you’re ready to stop pretending.”

I snapped the box shut and held it like it burned it.

“I’d rather choke on it,” I hissed.

His smirk was pure sin. “You will. But not the way you think.”

I didn’t answer. I walked out, heels hammering down the hallway, breath shallow.

But my heart…

My heart was already betraying me.