Elena's heels tapped angrily on the marble floor as she burst out of the Romano mansion, her heart racing with a combination of confusion and anger.Dante's words kept echoing in her head."Killian isn't the man you believe him to be. He's dangerous, Elena. He will shatter you."But wasn't Dante dangerous as well?She clenched her fists, inhaling deeply, trying to sort through the chaos in her head. The past few weeks had turned her world upside down, and now she was left questioning everything. The lines between enemy and ally, love and hate—they were all blurred.She had barely reached her car when she felt his presence behind her.Killian."You’re making a mistake," his deep voice rumbled behind her.Elena whirled fast, sparks of temper jumping into her eyes. "And stalking me again now?"His rough regard held her steady, his tone forceful and stern. "Don't trust Dante. You shouldn't either."Laughing, folding arms at her chest. "You should take my place and trust you?"In an abrupt
Killian's penthouse walls were still when Elena entered, heels tapping softly on the marble floor. The sun's gold poured through the floor-high windows and dropped dark shadows that mirrored the heaviness in her own chest. She couldn't find the strength to struggle anymore. After all that had happened at the company today—the choreographed humiliation, the chill whisper in her ear, "I told you not to disobey me"—her heart was battered beyond repair. Killian stood near the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a drink with calm precision. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up, forearms tense. He didn’t look at her as he spoke. “Take a seat, Elena.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not your pet to be summoned.” Then act like you're not a bad one," he snapped, turning to her at last. His eyes flashed with that all-too-familiar spark—possessiveness tangled with something much worse. She clutched her fists. "What do you want, Killian? You humiliate me in front of the board,
Rain. It rained around her as she walked away from Killian's building. The sky grew dark, in sorrow at what had been lost. Her cheeks stung from the biting wind, but she didn't mind. Anything to keep her thoughts from the storm in her chest.Her high heels clicked on the sidewalk as she navigated city streets, storm clouds above mirroring the storm within. Her head was reeling with one word: Dante.He was alive.Her brother—the one she'd mourned, the sole surviving member of her family—was alive. And Killian had accomplished it in secret.She was standing under the glow of a streetlamp, her body trembling as rain seeped through her shirt. How much more was Killian keeping from her? How much of her own life had been re-scripted for her?She reached into her bag with shaking hands, grabbed her phone, and dialed the only number that might be able to give her any information."Hello?" answered a deep, sleep-roughened voice after several rings."Dominic," she said."Elena? Where the hell ar
Outside the city, the world was still, but in the hotel room, Elena's heart pounded.Killian leaned in the doorway, his eyes begging, his jaw clenched as if he kept the world at its seams by sheer will. Rainwater dripped from his coat onto the hotel floor between them."Say something," he whispered. "Shout. Curse me. Anything but look at me like that."Elena stepped back, wedged against the wall as if room might allow her to breathe. "You stole him from me. You knew he existed all these years.""I never knew for sure. Only guesses. I sent men, Elena. I searched. But by the time I heard what had happened, he was not the same Dante anymore. He was already Victor DeLuca's.""You should have said something!" she screamed, voice cracking. "You made me believe I lost all of them!""And if you did tell me, what?" Killian stepped in, closing the door behind him. His voice was flat, destroyed. "Would you have walked right into DeLuca's hands? Right into your brother's twisted revenge plan?"Sh
The warehouse stood at the city's edge like a sore—weathered, quiet, dark. Elena stepped inside, the soles of her shoes ringing off the floor. Her breathing was labored, as if the air around her mourned what was to come.She saw him before he saw her.Dante Romano.Her brother.He sat at an iron table, spine straight, dark hair longer than she could ever recall. A man hardened by years and by rage. But those eyes—her mother's eyes—remained the same."Dante," she whispered.His head lifted slowly. They didn't move for a moment.Then he stood."Elena," he said, and her name on his lips hit her like a blow. "You're alive."She hadn't expected the feeling that welled up in her chest. She hadn't expected her knees to buckle at the sound of his voice, the way her heart keened like it had been waiting for this moment.She wanted to walk to him. But she didn't.Not after everything."You made me believe you were dead," he said. "You didn't search for me."She took a step forward, wincing away
The tempest raging outside had not dissipated. Neither had the one within her. Elena sat on the bed in her hotel room, fists balled, dripping wet from the rain. Her hair was stuck to her face. Her clothes dampened her cold skin. But all that was nothing in comparison to the pressure building in her chest. Killian's silence. His confession. She had pleaded with him to say no. Prayed it was a mistake. But his eyes told the truth—tormented, dark, full of guilt. He had signed. He had been a partner, if unwitting, to the ruination of her family. Her stomach clenched. There was a time she would have bring down empires for him. Now she couldn't even look at her face in the mirror. A knock on the door had her jumping. Rose up slowly, legs still shaking from it all. Looked through the peephole, and her breath froze. Killian. She did not want to see him. She wanted to scream, to cry, to smash something. But still, she opened the door. He was standing there—wet like her, dark suit
Elena standing alone in front of the huge marble bathtub, her hands sinking and emerging from the boiling water as silence wrapped itself around her like a shawl. The lamps were dimmed, their golden light shining upon her bare body, but even the warmth of the room was not enough to thaw the ice that was spreading inside her. No matter how many times she'd shut her eyes, she'd always be looking at Killian's face—that confused look when she had accused him of lying.She had pushed him again. Rode him too hard, maybe. But wasn't that what she had started?Her heart no longer listened to her plans.Her door groaned wider. She did not need to turn and recognized it would be him. That receding in the air. That bulk that proceeded him into any room. He was not even going to try to talk then—all he did was simply stand there and stare at her."quiet," she said to him, finally turning over her shoulder. "aren't going to threaten tonight. lock the other door behind you?Killian moved nearer to
The room was painfully quiet except for the distant hum of the city just beyond the towering glass windows. Elena stood with her back against the cold glass, breathing shallowly. Her pulse roaring in her ears. Killian's voice echoed, low and commanding:“You’re mine. There’s no walking away from me.”She didn’t move. Not because she was frozen in fear—but because something far more dangerous wrapped itself around her heart: confusion. Longing. A dark tether of obsession that she couldn’t seem to cut, no matter how hard she tried.“I’m not a possession,” Elena whispered. “You don’t own me.”Killian moved closer, black eyes smoldering into hers. "No, I don't own you," he said, moving another step. "But I'm the only one who gets to see all of you. Even the parts you try to hide.".She gritted her jaw and swallowed hard, trying to edge away, but he was quicker—one arm pinched between glass on either side of her head, holding her in place. He filled the space so intimately. Too close. Too
The skyline gave way to the glass windows of Elena's apartment, lights blinking like danger signals on the horizon. But within, the world held its breath. Too still. Elena sat on the edge of the sofa, phone tightly gripped in her hand, the black words scrawled on the screen:"You should be careful who you trust. Secrets leak faster than blood these days. – D"Dante.It shouldn't have hurt her so. She should have been desensitized once she learned from Killian that her brother was alive and in league with Victor. But she wasn't. She was sensitive. As if the skin had been flayed from her soul, and she was left with nerve endings that registered every shock of betrayal.Standing before her, Killian was quiet, jaw set, eyes icy. He hadn't uttered a word since she'd brought the message. That scared her more than anything. Killian never remained quiet for nothing."Something," she whispered.He ran his hand through his hair, tension in his frame so intense it seeped out around him. "He's ma
The click of heels on marble floors in Graves Enterprises rang down the hallway as Elena walked with cold determination, on purpose. Her blood still seethed from sparring with Sophia, and her body hummed with tension she had yet to release. The humiliation that preceded this seared her mind—Sophia standing up to her in public, laughing at her, trying to break her. And worse than that was Killian's silence.He'd said nothing. Not during the confrontation. Not since.She burst into the executive suite, ready to shove past his secretary and demand answers. But the suite was empty—except for him.Killian leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, fingers buried in his pockets, eyes gazing down into the city below."You're late," he murmured, as if the world wasn't on fire."You're not telling me anything," Elena snapped, the door slapping shut with a bitter click behind her. "Too quiet for a man who let his fiancée play with his… whatever the devil I am to you now."Slower, he turned, hi
The penthouse was too silent.Elena propped against the window, gazing out at city lights blurring behind raindrops that streamed down the glass. Each drop hit like a reminder of how shattered everything really was. Her own face glared back at her—tough on the outside, but in the midst of all of it, her own heart was disintegrating at the seams.Killian still had not come back.Since the battle with Graves Enterprises.She could still remember the tone of his voice—cold and detached as he addressed the board, but something had broken within his eyes when he looked back at the board and saw himself looking at her. As if all the walls he had carefully built up in him had started to break down.Elena composed herself, silk against waist from Killian close and restrictive. Collar still clung to it—a whisper of him in here—spice, danger, and some very attractive presence.It was difficult. It hurt to love him.The chime rang out. She was rigid. She did not inhale.Heavy foot. Turn of the k
The penthouse was darkened, city lights pouring through the wide windows like ghosts across the shining marble floor. Elena leaned in the doorway of the living room, arms wrapped around her torso as she gazed down at the city. There was unspoken tension between her and Killian, brimming with everything left unsaid.He stood behind her, icy and unyielding."You ran from me," he breathed, his voice low and controlled—too controlled."I needed room," she replied without turning around. "You know, I was having a lot of difficulty breathing after all that drama with Sophia."Killian took a slow step forward."So you ran. Again."Elena finally whirled, their eyes locking."And what would you have done?" she snarled. "Stayed? Slept with someone who had lied to you? Lied to herself?" Her voice trembled with the passion radiating from her."I would have made you say the truth," Killian growled. "I would have made you face it—to face me. But you fled, like you always do."She winced at the accu
Elena sat cross-legged on her apartment floor, lights out, the city glow casting long shadows on the glass windows. The flash drive nestled in her palm like a hot wire—unobtrusive, small, and quiet, but heavy with her history. The questions she'd been searching for for years. The answers she never thought Killian would provide.Her computer sat with the lid up on the small coffee table, the cursor flashing in time with the beat of her heart.She wasn't ready.She never could be.Her eyes shut. She inserted the flash drive. The screen sprang to life, folders standing at precise attention, titles in Killian's neat, painstaking script: Bank Transfers. Contracts. Victor. My Father. Yours.Elena opened the last one.They came out slowly, one at a time: letters, bank statements, deeds to property. And in the center—a scanned letter that had been sent almost twelve years earlier. Her father's handwriting, so recognizable in all the years.She moved closer."Killian—If you are reading this,
Elena rode alone in the rear of the black sedan, city lights streaking past her face like ghosts from the other side of the world. Her fist was locked around the waistband of her dress, gathering the satin into her hand as if she could shake the fear out of her body. Killian's words from weeks ago still rang through her mind, hungry and on repeat:"You still think you can handle me, Elena? The fact is, I won already."She loathed the way it made her feel—how his voice alone could make her loosen her grip on her knees and muffle her heart in a stutter. Loathed the way his mere presence in the same room left her responding with shaking nerves and ragged breath.The car skidded rabidly before her penthouse. Her driver opened the door and got out, and she remained seated, disregarding the banding across her chest. She needed to concentrate. Killian's last move hadn't been a move of control—it had been a move of intimidation. He'd wanted her to feel trapped.And God have mercy on her, it w
The enmity between them had boiled over, but their final encounter had solidified into strained peace. Elena had never been sundered so completely. Dangling over an abyss, she had teetered between past and future, love and obligation, the man who had ruined her and the one who could restore her—or destroy her completely.She paced the hotel suite in agitated circles, unable not to tear apart each sentence, each touch they shared. On the streets, the city churned gray beneath the streetlights, its body still intact and oblivious to the storm brewing just below her skin.Sophia's, Dante's, all colliding into one another made her ill. How was she ever going to pull it off? How was she ever going to be able to trust another human being in her life?Her coffee table phone called, breaking up her dizzily spinning thoughts. She didn't stir, lost a beat. She answered, not that she cared what the caller was. It showed private number on the screen.She breathed, her chest expanding."Hello?" Sh
The door hinge creaked as loudly as a rifle in the stillness. Elena sat inside, knotted with tension that forbade her from breathing. Her fingers trembled weakly as she loosened her jacket, draping it over a chair. She was still conscious of Killian's warmth on her wrist, the way his eyes had darkened in ferocity as she'd moved away from him.But she had to go. Didn't she?Elena by the window, city lights casting a sickly glow on her face. Down below, Manhattan thudding to its beat, a town never pausing to consider what people hid. And her own was more substantial than the skyline.The last forty-eight hours had reduced her to a whirlpool she wasn't ready for. Dante's ominous reappearance, Killian's jealousy tantrums in front of the boardroom building—it was all coming unraveled.Her control over all.She tensed at a knock on the door.Her heart ceased to beat. She had wished him not to be him, for one solitary beat.He was."Open up, Elena," deep, gravelly, quietly lethal Killian's v
Elena gazed at the pictures on her phone, shaking her hand in frustration as she scrolled through them one by one. Each picture an open wound afresh—Killian and her father together at that charity event so many years ago, a second one where Killian would show up at the Romano compound days before the attack which had altered everything. And the final picture. Her brother Dante is very much alive. With Victor DeLuca.It didn't add up. Any of it.The penthouse air felt thick, thick upon her chest like a weight she couldn't put down. She paced the living room, Killian's words ringing in her ears from that evening: "You don't know everything, Elena." No. She hadn't. And yet now, slowly, she was discovering.And the truth cut through like a knife cutting through well-made resolve.A door slammed behind her. She turned, already tense. Killian came in, his black top unbuttoned at the collar, showing the soft welts on his collarbone from the last battle. His dark eyes absorbed the charged atm