CHAPTER 4

Angelina's POV

My head throbbed. I tried to open my eyes and take in my surroundings.

Where was I? This wasn't my bedroom, nor was it Lexi's or my aunt's house. I tried to focus on the last thing I remembered, and suddenly, terrifying images from the previous night flashed across my mind. A cold sweat broke out over my skin.

Oh, God... Had I been kidnapped by those same men?

But I vividly remembered a stranger fighting for me in the dark. He had saved me, hadn't he? Would he really leave me there with those monsters and run away? He was much stronger than them, so it was unlikely he had lost the fight.

I desperately needed something to drink; my throat felt like dry sandpaper. Spotting a glass of water resting on the nightstand next to the bed, I reached out with a trembling hand and downed it in a single breath.

Damn, my throat hurts.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the burning ache to subside. Once I felt a bit better, I fluttered them open again to truly take in the room where I had been brought. As I looked around, something about the space felt strangely familiar. Then, the realization hit me, and a loud gasp escaped my lips.

Oh, my God...

This was the exact room I had always dreamed of having. I had always wanted a massive bedroom with a glass ceiling directly above the bed so I could fall asleep beneath the moonlight. I had also wanted a dedicated wall entirely covered by a custom bookshelf so I could read whenever I pleased.

Throwing off the thick duvet, I slowly made my way toward the shelf to inspect the titles.

Oh, God.

These were all my absolute favorite books. I remembered having to cancel my library membership because we couldn't afford the monthly f*e anymore, and I had missed reading these exact stories so much. It seemed the owner of this room had the exact same taste in literature as me.

But this was beyond weird.

How could a stranger have the exact room I had always wished for, stocked with the exact books I loved?

Strange. Really strange.

It was almost as if someone had stolen my personal diary and built a physical replica of the fantasy room I had described in its pages. Pushing the eerie thought aside, my bladder reminded me I desperately needed to use the bathroom. I scanned the walls and reached for the nearest door, pulling it open. It wasn't a bathroom; it was a walk-in closet. But it wasn't just any closet.

It was... Oh, Jesus.

Every single dress hanging on the racks was exactly my size. Even more shocking, the vast majority were outfits I had personally tried on but left behind because the price tags were too expensive. All the clothes and shoes perfectly matched the items I had secretly admired whenever I went shopping with Lexi or my mother.

This is not happening.

Either I had died in that alley and gone to heaven, where I could finally have everything I ever wanted, or the owner of this house really had stolen my diary. Creepy.

I backed out of the closet in a hurry and opened the next door, finally finding the en-suite bathroom. When I flicked on the light and looked in the mirror, I gasped in shock. My face looked like a mangled mess. I had a dark black eye, swollen, busted lips, and deep purple bruises littering my neck. I carefully peeled off my ruined shirt and saw that my ribs had been tightly bandaged, and a nasty cut on my forearm had been neatly stitched.

...And I smelled like sweat and dried blood! I decided to quickly brush my teeth with a spare toothbrush on the counter and wash myself up, making a mental note to deeply thank whoever had patched me up.

---

Danzel's POV

I was beyond angry.

We hadn't been able to catch all the men. I had managed to kill two of them with my own hands during the alley fight, but the one who survived had swallowed a cyanide pill and killed himself before my men could interrogate him. Because of that, I didn't have solid proof of who had sent them, but I was almost positive it was Ethan.

I paced relentlessly across my home office, my boots thudding heavily against the hardwood floors. Creed sat nearby, watching my every move. He kept staring at me, but I was far too furious to care about his calculating gaze.

"Danzel, my eyes are going to fall out of my head if I have to keep watching you pace," he groaned.

I shot him a lethal glare.

If any other man in my syndicate had dared to speak to me that way, I would have cut his tongue out the second the words left his mouth. But this was Creed. He was my best friend and closer than blood family to me.

"That bastard Ethan had the nerve to make a move on my girl," I snarled, my hands balling into tight fists. "He was trying to fucking take what is mine and only mine. I'll kill him!"

"Danzel, you're not thinking straight," Creed reasoned calmly. "Calm down, bro. We don't have any hard proof that Ethan sent those guys. It could be any one of our other rivals. Hell, it could have just been a group of drunken street thugs looking for a victim."

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right.

I had zero proof against Ethan. But one thing was absolutely certain: whoever orchestrated this attack would curse the day they were born once I got my hands on them. They had dared to lay their filthy hands on my girl. My angel.

Angelina.

The memory of her lying lifeless on that filthy concrete while that bastard forced his mouth onto hers made my blood boil with a murderous rage. She had been in absolute agony. So, I had done the only thing that made sense—I brought her straight to my penthouse.

By the time I carried her through my front doors, my private family doctor, Peter, was already waiting. He immediately set to work examining her. Even though it was purely medical, the mere thought of another man touching her delicate skin made me insanely jealous. But she needed to be healed, so I swallowed my possessive rage and stood guard, making sure no one else was allowed in the room except him and me.

She had been brutally beaten. The realization of how much she had suffered fueled my endless fury. Peter assured me that aside from the severe bruising, fractured ribs, and superficial cuts, there wasn't any life-threatening internal damage. She just needed deep rest to safely regain consciousness.

She had been asleep for two straight days.

I was dying to see those deep black eyes flutter open and witness her beautiful smile, but she remained perfectly still in her sleep. Even with her face swollen and bruised, she was the most breathtaking sight in the world. I had laid her down in the custom bedroom I had built specifically for her.

Months ago, she had accidentally left her personal diary behind at a café. I had taken it, hungrily absorbing every single secret detail written on those pages before secretly returning it. She had described her absolute dream bedroom in vivid detail, so I made sure to construct an exact physical replica in my home.

I stocked the shelves with every book she had ever wanted to read. I filled her massive closet with all the designer dresses she could never afford. I vividly remembered stalking her at the mall, watching the way her eyes would light up when she found a dress she loved, only for that joy to instantly shatter the second she checked the price tag. She would bravely hide her disappointment from her mother and move on to the cheaper racks.

My angel had such a pure, selfless heart. Whenever she left the store, I would immediately walk in and buy the exact dress she had been forced to leave behind. She deserved to wear beautiful things. After all, my angel would get everything that fell from her pretty lips.

I had spent months simply waiting for the perfect moment to finally bring her home to me.

A sudden knock on the office door pulled me from my dark thoughts. One of the estate maids nervously stepped inside—a woman I vaguely remembered fucking a few times to blow off steam, though I had only been picturing Angelina's face the entire time.

"What do you want?" I snapped viciously.

"Mr. Parker, the young woman has regained consciousness. She's awake. If you—"

I didn't even let her finish the sentence. I shoved past her and sprinted down the hall toward Angelina's room.

My chest swelled with overwhelming relief. Angelina was finally awake. I couldn't wait to see the pure surprise in her eyes when she realized she was in her dream room. I reached the heavy oak door and, without bothering to knock, pushed it open and strode inside.

But the room was empty.

Where is she?

Then, I heard the faint sound of the shower running from the en-suite bathroom. Deciding to wait for her, I sank onto the plush velvet couch near the closet, leaning my head back against the frame and closing my eyes.

My treacherous mind immediately conjured up the image of Angelina standing beneath the steaming spray in all her naked glory. I pictured the hot water cascading down her soft curves—shamelessly touching every inch of the body I so desperately wanted to claim as my own. I could easily just open the bathroom door, step into the shower, and touch her. I could taste every inch of her soft skin, every muscle, and slowly worship her body with my mouth. I could fuck her senseless right there against the slippery tiles, bending her over the edge of the marble bathtub until she screamed my name in total ecstasy.

But I had to restrain myself. If I acted on my dick right now, she would be utterly terrified and hate me forever—which was the absolute last thing I wanted. Still, the vivid fantasy caused a heavy, aching strain against the zipper of my pants.

Oh, God...

I needed a massive dose of self-control immediately, or I was going to ruin everything and lose my angel before I even truly had her.

Suddenly, the water shut off.

A few moments later, Angelina stepped out of the bathroom, clutching a small white towel tightly around her shivering frame. Completely unaware of my presence in the dimly lit room, she walked straight into the massive walk-in closet.

Christ. She looks so damn delicious.

Driven by pure, primal instinct, I silently stood up from the couch and followed her into the closet...

---

Angelina's POV

The hot shower worked wonders; my aching muscles finally felt somewhat relaxed. I grabbed a fluffy white towel and wrapped it securely around my body, though the hem barely reached my mid-thigh. I stepped into the massive closet to find something to wear.

Don't forget to say thank you to the girl whose clothes you're borrowing, Angi, I reminded myself.

Just as I started sifting through the luxurious fabrics, the distinct, prickling sensation of being watched washed over me. I spun around and let out a terrified scream. A tall, imposing man was standing in the doorway, watching me with a dark, intense gaze.

Before I could make another sound, he lunged forward. A large, warm hand clamped firmly over my mouth, and he swiftly pushed my back against the wooden shelves of the closet. I clutched the flimsy towel to my chest with a death grip and squeezed my eyes shut.

This is it. I am going to die.

"Open your eyes, angel. Let me see those deep eyes," he whispered huskily, his lips brushing dangerously close to my ear.

A violent shiver racked my spine. Trembling, I slowly fluttered my eyes open, instantly colliding with a piercing pair of blue eyes. My breath hitched. He was, without a doubt, the most devastatingly handsome man I had ever seen. He had striking, bright blue eyes framed by thick lashes, a sharp, chiseled jawline, and perfectly messy dark hair. He caught me staring, and the blue of his irises visibly darkened with naked lust.

He still had one hand clamped over my mouth, while his other arm banded securely around my bare waist, pulling me flush against him. There wasn't an inch of space between us. I could feel the solid, rock-hard planes of his muscular chest and stomach pressing intimately against my soft curves.

Sandwiched between his massive frame and the closet wall, I felt entirely trapped. Slowly, he removed his hand from my mouth. Instead of stepping back, he raised his fingers to stroke my wet hair, trailing his thumb softly down the curve of my cheek before tracing the delicate line of my collarbone.

My breathing turned shallow and erratic. My mouth went desert-dry, and my lips parted instinctively as the overwhelming heat of his body enveloped me. His heavy gaze dropped to my parted lips, the intense hunger in his eyes making my knees weak.

He slowly leaned closer.

Oh, God. He's going to kiss me.

Shit! I am not giving my first kiss to a random guy who just barged into my closet! My frantic thoughts were instantly derailed when his warm, minty breath washed softly over my mouth.

My legs felt like jelly, and my stomach fluttered with an embarrassing jolt of excitement. My heart hammered wildly against my ribs. I knew I needed to push him away, but my body felt completely paralyzed under his spell. Finally finding a shred of willpower, I shoved my hands hard against his solid chest.

He stumbled backward, surprise flashing across his handsome face. We stood there staring at each other, both of our chests heaving with ragged pants.

We hadn't even kissed, yet the sexual tension in the air was thick enough to choke on.

"How dare you sneak up on a naked girl?" I demanded, trying to sound furious, but my voice embarrassingly trembled. Great.

"Well, how is a man supposed to control himself when a beautiful, sexy girl struts around in nothing but a towel?" he countered, a wicked, arrogant smirk spreading across his lips.

"So, you were just sitting out there watching me the whole time?" I gasped.

His smile only widened.

Oh, God... I really, really wanted to know what those lips felt like. Shaking my head to clear the wildly inappropriate thoughts, I forced myself to focus on the reality of the situation. "Why am I here? Who saved me last night?" I asked, tightly controlling my voice.

"Me, of course," he stated proudly, his chest puffing out slightly.

"Oh. Well... thank you," I mumbled, suddenly feeling a twinge of guilt for shouting at the man who had quite literally saved my life.

"Get dressed and meet me downstairs," he ordered smoothly. But instead of leaving, he took a slow, deliberate step back toward me. His eyes had darkened all over again. He kept advancing until my back hit the wall once more, completely caging me in.

"Because it is incredibly tempting to watch you yell at me while wearing nothing but a tiny scrap of cloth. And if I stay in this room any longer... I don't think I'll be able to stop myself, Love," he whispered seductively.

Before I could process the threat, he leaned in, pressed a scorching kiss to the sensitive skin just below my earlobe, and then turned and strode out of the closet.

I remained frozen in place long after he left, clutching the towel with white-knuckled fingers. My entire face was flushed with heat.

Damn it. Why couldn't I control my own body's reactions when he was near?

As my racing heart slowly began to settle, a terrifying realization washed over me.

My heart was in incredibly deep trouble.