TRAPPED BETWEEN HIM AND WANT

Summer POV The morning light finds me through a crack in the roof and hits my face like a slap. My mouth tastes of metal and cheap liquor. I breathe shallow, feeling the ache that lives in my bones after last night. I reach for the small white pills on the cracked table and swallow two without water. I close my eyes. “I can’t have a baby now,” I tell the empty room. My voice sounds small, but I say it like I mean it. My house is wood and old nails. The floor bows where I sleep. Rats make nests in the corner and their eyes shine when the light moves. Cockroaches scatter whenever I move. The walls are thin; I can hear everything outside, people coughing, someone beating a tin pot, the low rumble of a radio. All the houses here lean into each other like tired people on a bench. None of them are safe. None of them are clean. I stand and my legs make a small cracking sound. I wrap my thin sweater around my shoulders. I push open the door and the smell of morning hits me, smoke, fried oi

⚠️ WARNING CONTAINS DRUGS & CIGARETTES ⚠️ Alexander POV The rain hasn’t stopped since last night. It’s hitting the glass windows of my mansion like it’s trying to break in. The thunder outside sounds like gunshots, but I’m used to that sound. I live in a world where death and money always come together. I’m sitting at the head of a long table in the meeting room. My men are talking, about shipments, drugs, and rivals. The smell of cigar smoke mixes with whiskey and power. Everyone looks serious, but my mind… it’s somewhere else. I’m not thinking about the business. I’m not thinking about my enemies. I’m thinking about her. SUMMER. That girl. The one who shouldn’t mean anything to me, but somehow does. It’s been a week since that night, but her face keeps appearing in my head like a scar I can’t erase. I remember how her eyes looked, afraid but strong. How her voice trembled when she spoke. How her touch made me feel something I thought I’d buried a long time ago. She was suppose

SUMMER’S POV Warm sunlight slipped through the curtains, soft and golden. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. The sheets beneath me were smooth, the scent of clean linen and something faintly masculine filled the air, expensive cologne, familiar and comforting. Then memory hit me like cold water. The alley. The men. His voice. Alexander. My eyes flew open. I was in a wide room, ceiling high, curtains heavy and velvet-dark. It wasn’t a hospital. It wasn’t my apartment. It was his mansion. I pushed myself up, wincing as a dull ache pulsed through my arm. Bandages. My wrist was wrapped, my cheek tender. On the bedside table, a tray held a glass of water and medicine. Someone had taken care of me. Someone—him. But when my gaze darted to the clock on the wall, my breath caught. 10:47 a.m. My heart dropped. “Mom,” I whispered, voice shaking. I threw off the blanket and jumped from the bed, ignoring the pain that shot through my side. I was supposed to visit her early

Summer’s POV The hospital corridor feels colder the moment he leaves. I stand there for a while, still reeling from his words, You’ll need it, for the wedding. The wedding. My wedding? No, this has to be some kind of cruel joke. I excuse myself from my mom’s room, forcing a smile as she drifts back to sleep. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. When I finally step into the hallway, I see him near the elevator, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his car keys. He looks calm, too calm, like he didn’t just drop a bomb in the middle of my life. “Alexander!” I call out, my voice sharper than I intended. He turns his head slowly, his eyes meeting mine with that infuriating calmness. “Summer.” I march toward him, my shoes clicking against the tile. “What was that back there? Why would you say that to my mom?” He raises a brow. “Say what?” “That you’re my future husband! Do you realize what you just did?” I hiss. “She believes it! She thinks I’m

Summer’s POV The drive back to the mansion is silent, heavy. Alexander’s hands grip the steering wheel with a calm control that makes my chest ache. I stare out the window, the city passing by in gray blurs, trying to process everything that has happened today. His hand brushes mine occasionally, subtle and possessive, and I can’t decide if I want to pull away or press closer. When we arrive, the mansion looms like a fortress, dark and imposing in the late afternoon light. Rain begins to fall again, soft at first, then heavier, drumming against the car roof like a warning. I step out, shivering slightly, and Alexander’s arm wraps around my waist before I can move too far. “You’re cold,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. “Stay close.” I nod, unable to speak, letting him guide me inside. The familiar scent of leather, expensive wood, and faint cigar smoke fills my senses. The mansion is quiet, almost too quiet, and I sense a storm coming from him before he even speaks.