CHAPTER 4

Angelina POV

My head throbbed. I tried to open my eyes and take in my surroundings. Where am I? This wasn't my bedroom, nor was it Lexi's or my aunt's. I tried to focus, and the horrific images of last night suddenly flashed across my mind. A cold sweat broke out over my skin.

Oh God... was I kidnapped by those same men?

But I vividly remembered a stranger fighting for me. He had saved me, hadn't he? Would he really leave me there with those monsters and run? He had seemed so much stronger than them; there was no way he could have lost the fight.

My throat felt like sandpaper. I needed something to drink. Spotting a glass of juice on the nightstand beside the bed, I reached for it and drank it down in one long gulp.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the sharp, dry pain in my throat to subside. When I felt a bit better, I finally looked around to take in the room I had been brought to. As my eyes adjusted, a wave of familiarity washed over me. Then, the realization hit, and I gasped.

Oh my God.

This was the room I had always dreamed of. I had always wanted a massive bedroom with a glass ceiling right above the bed, so I could sleep beneath the moonlight. I had also dreamed of a custom wall lined entirely with bookshelves so I could read whenever I wanted.

I slowly made my way toward the shelf. Every single book on display was one of my favorites. I had canceled my library membership a while ago because we couldn't afford the fees, and I had deeply missed reading these exact titles. The owner of this room somehow had my exact taste in literature.

But this was beyond weird.

How could someone have the exact room I had always wished for, down to the specific books? It was almost as if someone had stolen my diary and built a replica of the fantasy bedroom I had described in its pages.

Pushing the creepy thoughts aside, I realized I desperately needed to use the bathroom. I walked over to the first door I saw and pulled it open, only to find a massive walk-in closet. But it wasn't just any closet.

Oh, Jesus.

The dresses hanging there were exactly my size, and almost all of them were pieces I had tried on at the mall but couldn't afford. Everything—from the clothes to the shoes—were things I had admired while shopping with Lexi or my mom.

This couldn't be happening. Either I was dead and in some personalized heaven, or the owner of this house had literally stolen my diary and stalked my shopping trips. I backed out of the closet in a hurry and opened the next door, finally finding the bathroom.

When I looked in the mirror, I gasped in horror. My face looked terrible. I had a bruised, black-and-blue eye, my lips were swollen, and angry red marks littered my neck. I gently pulled off my ruined shirt and saw that my ribs were tightly bandaged and a deep cut on my forearm had been stitched up. On top of all that, I smelled like sweat and dirt. I decided to brush my teeth and take a quick shower, making a mental note to thank whoever had fixed me up once I was clean.

Danzel POV:

I was beyond angry.

We hadn't been able to catch the rest of the men. I had managed to kill two of them in the alley, but the one we caught alive had swallowed a cyanide pill before my men could interrogate him. Because of that, I didn't have solid proof of who sent them, but I was almost positive it was Ethan. I paced aggressively across my office while Creed sat watching me. I usually hated being stared at, but I was too consumed by fury to care.

"Danzel, my eyes are going to fall out of my head if you keep pacing like that," he sighed.

I shot him a lethal glare. If any other man in my syndicate had dared to speak to me like that, I would have cut his tongue out the second the words left his mouth. But this was Creed. My best friend. He was the closest thing to family I had.

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

"Danzel, you're thinking with your rage again," Creed reasoned calmly. "Calm down. We don't have any actual proof that Ethan sent those men. It could be any one of our rivals. Or it might have just been some drunken street thugs trying to assault her."

He was right. I didn't have concrete proof yet. But one thing was absolutely certain: whoever had ordered the hit would curse the day they were born the second I got my hands on them. They had dared to touch my girl. My Angel.

Angelina.

The image of her lying helpless on the asphalt while that filthy bastard kissed her made my blood boil all over again. She had been in so much pain. When she passed out in my arms, I didn't even think twice. I brought her straight to my penthouse.

By the time I arrived, my private doctor, Peter, was already waiting. He immediately started treating her injuries. Even though it was strictly medical, just the sight of another man touching her body ignited a burning jealousy in my chest. But she needed to be healed, so I forced myself to stand back, ensuring no one else was in the room but the two of us.

She had been badly beaten. The doctor confirmed that, aside from the severe bruising and a few cuts, there was no major internal damage. She just needed rest to regain consciousness.

But she had been sleeping for two straight days.

I was dying to see those deep, dark eyes open, but she remained completely still in her sleep. Even with her bruised, swollen face, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I had laid her in the bedroom I designed specifically for her. Months ago, she had accidentally left her diary on a table at the café. I had taken it, memorizing every single detail written on its pages. She had described her dream bedroom, and I had immediately ordered a perfect replica to be built in my penthouse.

I tracked down every book she mentioned wanting to read and bought them. I filled the massive walk-in closet with all the expensive dresses and shoes I had watched her admire through store windows. I remembered the way her eyes would light up when she held a dress, only for the excitement to die the second she checked the price tag. She would hide her disappointment so her mother wouldn't feel bad, and quietly put it back on the rack.

My Angel had a beautiful heart. Every time she walked out of a store empty-handed, I sent my men in to buy the exact items she had touched. Now, she would have everything she ever wanted. Whatever she desired, she would get. I had spent months just waiting for the day I could finally bring her home.

A timid knock on my office door pulled me from my thoughts. One of my maids stepped in—a woman I vaguely remembered sleeping with a few times in the past, entirely pretending she was Angelina just to get off.

"What do you want?" I snapped harshly.

"Mr. Parker, the girl 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 hallway toward Angelina's room.

Relief flooded my veins. She was finally awake. I couldn't wait to see the look of pure surprise in her eyes when she took in the room. I reached the door and pushed it open without knocking, striding inside.

But the bed was empty.

Where is she?

A second later, I heard the faint sound of the shower running from the en-suite bathroom. I decided to wait for her, taking a seat on the velvet couch and leaning my head back against the cushions. I closed my eyes, and my imagination instantly betrayed me. My mind conjured a vivid image of Angelina standing perfectly naked under the hot spray. I pictured the water cascading down her soft skin, sliding over all the places I desperately wanted to run my own hands.

I could just walk into that bathroom and step right into the shower with her. I could press her against the wet tiles, taste every inch of her skin, and fuck her senseless while she screamed my name.

But I couldn't. If I gave into my dark, primal urges right now, she would be terrified. She would hate me, and that was the absolute last thing I wanted. Still, my body reacted violently to the fantasy, straining uncomfortably against the zipper of my slacks. Fuck. I needed to lock down my iron-clad self-control, or I was going to ruin everything and lose her.

The sound of the water suddenly shut off. A few moments later, Angelina stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a fluffy white towel. Without noticing me sitting in the shadows of the room, she walked straight into the walk-in closet.

Christ. She looked absolutely incredible.

My self-control completely shattered. Pure instinct took over, and I silently stood up, following her into the closet.

Angelina POV

The hot shower worked wonders. For the first time in days, my tense muscles finally felt somewhat relaxed. I had grabbed a thick towel from the rack 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 properly thank whoever's clothes you're borrowing, I reminded myself as I sifted through the expensive fabrics.

Just as I reached for a simple sundress, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I sensed a heavy presence behind me. I spun around and let out a startled scream. A tall, incredibly built man was standing in the doorway, watching me with predatory intensity.

Before I could back away, he moved with lightning speed. His large hand clamped over my mouth, and he pushed me gently but firmly against the closet wall. I squeezed my eyes shut, my fists gripping the edges of my towel like a lifeline.

I'm dead. He's going to kill me.

"Open your eyes, Angel. Let me see those deep eyes," a dark, husky voice murmured right against my ear.

A violent shiver ripped down my spine. I slowly forced my eyes open and was instantly trapped in the gaze of the most striking, piercing blue eyes I had ever seen. He was breathtakingly handsome—flawless skin, thick dark lashes, and a jawline so sharp it looked carved from marble. He noticed me staring at him, and his irises visibly darkened, swimming with raw, unfiltered lust.

One of his hands was still covering my mouth, while his other arm banded tightly around my waist, pulling me flush against him. We were pressed together from chest to thigh. I could feel every hard plane of his muscular torso burning through the thin fabric of my towel. I was completely trapped between the wall and his heavy, unyielding frame.

Slowly, he removed the hand covering my mouth. Instead of stepping back, his fingers tangled into my damp hair. His thumb brushed softly across my cheekbone, trailing down my neck to rest against my bare collarbone.

My breathing hitched, coming in shallow, erratic pants. My mouth went completely dry, and my lips parted instinctively from the overwhelming proximity. His gaze immediately dropped to my mouth, his expression turning hungry and dangerous.

He leaned in closer. Oh God, he's going to kiss me.

Panic and an undeniable spark of heat warred in my chest. No! I am not giving my first kiss to some random guy who just cornered me in a closet!

My frantic thoughts short-circuited when his warm, minty breath fanned across my lips. My knees felt dangerously weak, and my stomach did a wild flip of excitement. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I knew I needed to push him away, but my body felt completely paralyzed under his spell.

Finally, gathering every ounce of willpower I had left, I shoved my hands hard against his chest.

He stumbled backward, genuine shock flickering in his blue eyes. We stared at each other, our chests heaving as we struggled to catch our breath. We hadn't even kissed, yet we were both panting like we'd just run a marathon.

"How dare you walk in on a naked girl!" I tried to shout angrily, but my voice came out as a breathless, trembling whisper. Great. So much for sounding intimidating.

"Well, how is a man supposed to control himself when a beautiful, sexy girl walks around wearing almost nothing?" he countered, a wicked smirk playing on his lips.

My eyes went wide. "So you were watching me the whole time?"

His smirk deepened into a sinfully attractive smile.

Oh God. Against all logic, I found myself desperately wishing I knew what those smiling lips felt like against mine. I quickly shook my head, fighting back my wild, inappropriate thoughts. "Why am I here? Who saved me last night?"

"I did, of course," he stated proudly, his chest puffing out just a fraction.

"Uh—thank you," I mumbled, suddenly feeling a twinge of guilt for shoving him after he had quite literally saved my life.

"Get dressed and meet me downstairs." He took a slow, deliberate step back toward me. I retreated until my back hit the wall again. He leaned in, his eyes pitch-black with desire. "Because it is incredibly tempting to stand here and watch you yell at me wearing nothing but a towel. And if I stay any longer, I don't think I'll be able to stop myself, Love."

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss just beneath my earlobe, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my toes. Then, he turned and strode out of the closet.

I remained frozen against the wall, my entire face burning with a furious blush. Damn it. Why did my body completely betray me the second he got close?

As I finally turned back to the racks of clothes, a terrifying realization washed over me.

My heart was in very deep trouble.