CHAPTER 2

Seraphina Harrington

The leather seats of the SUV felt cool against my bare, burning skin, but it wasn't enough. The heat inside me was growing, heavy and thick, pulsing through my veins until every breath felt like a chore. I pressed my forehead against the cold glass of the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of yellow and white through the sheets of rain.

What did Julian put in that glass? It wasn't just a regular sleeping pill. My mind was racing, hyper-aware of the fabric of my dress rubbing against my skin, making me itch with a strange, desperate need for something I couldn't even name.

The driver didn’t say a word. He just kept his eyes on the road, weaving through the midnight traffic with terrifying speed. Within twenty minutes, the car pulled into the private underground parking lot of a skyscraper in the heart of the city’s financial district.

"We are here, Miss Harrington," the driver said, stepping out to open my door.

When I tried to stand, my knees buckled. I had to clutch the car door just to keep myself upright. My heels were gone, left behind in the mud at the estate, and my bare feet felt numb against the concrete floor. The driver reached out to help, but I instinctively flinched away. The thought of anyone touching me right now made my stomach turn.

"I can walk," I whispered, though it was a lie.

I dragged myself toward the private elevator. The driver swiped a golden keycard, and the doors slid open.

"Mr. Mercer is waiting for you on the top floor," he said, bowing his head slightly as the doors closed, trapping me inside the mirrored box.

I looked at my reflection, and horror struck me. My hair was a wet, tangled mess, clinging to my neck and shoulders. The tight silk dress was completely soaked, plastered to my body like plastic wrap, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. But it was my eyes that scared me the most. The pupils were dilated, glassy, and filled with a raw, wild desperation.

I looked like a mess. I looked like a victim.

Dominic was going to see me like this.

The thought made my heart race for an entirely different reason. Dominic had always been the epitome of control. Every time he visited our house when my father was alive, he wore a flawless, custom-tailored suit. He never raised his voice, never lost his temper, and never looked at me as anything more than a child he was legally obligated to protect. He was thirty-two, powerful, and completely out of my league.

The elevator dinged, and the doors glided open directly into his private penthouse.

The apartment was massive, minimalist, and dark. The only illumination came from the massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the rainy city skyline. The floors were polished dark wood, and the air smelled like expensive cedarwood and rain.

"Seraphina."

The voice came from the shadows near the kitchen island.

I gasped, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. Dominic was standing there. He wasn't wearing his usual armor of a three-piece suit. Instead, he wore a loose black silk robe, tied loosely at his waist, revealing a broad, muscular chest that still had stray droplets of water on it, as if he had just stepped out of the shower. His dark hair was damp, pushed back carelessly from his face.

He looked dangerous. Far more dangerous than the men at the party.

He took a step toward me, his grey eyes scanning me from my bare, dirty feet up to my soaking wet hair. His gaze lingered on the wet silk dress clinging to my chest, and I saw his jaw clench tightly. The muscle in his cheek twitched.

"What happened?" he demanded, his voice dropping into a low, deadly register.

"Julian..." I choked out, the heat in my chest suddenly flaring up again as I took a step toward him. "He drugged my drink. They tried to give me to Marcus Henderson. For money."

Dominic’s expression didn't change, but the air in the room suddenly felt heavy, suffocating. He didn't yell, but the sheer coldness radiating from him was terrifying. "They did what?"

"I ran," I said, my voice cracking. "I ran into the rain. Dominic, I feel so strange. I'm burning up. Please."

I stumbled forward, losing my balance completely. I braced myself for the hard impact of the floor, but it never came.

Suddenly, two powerful arms caught me. Dominic’s grip was firm and unyielding as he lifted me against his chest. The moment my skin made contact with his—even through the fabric of his robe—a wave of pure, electric pleasure shot straight down my spine. I let out a soft, embarrassing whimper, my hands instinctively reaching up to clutch at his broad shoulders.

His skin was cool, so incredibly cool, and my body instantly craved it. I pressed closer into his chest, burying my face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.

Dominic froze. I felt the sudden stiffness in his muscles. His chest rose and fell in a sharp, heavy breath.

"Seraphina, let go," he muttered, his voice strained.

"No," I cried softly, my fingers tightening on his shoulders. The drug was completely taking over now, erasing my modesty, erasing the fear of how he would judge me. "You’re cold. Please, just hold me."

"You’re out of your mind right now," he whispered, but he didn't put me down. Instead, he adjusted his grip, lifting me effortlessly into his arms as if I weighed nothing, and began walking down the long, dark hallway toward the master bathroom.

Every step he took made my body rub against his. The friction was driving me crazy. I could feel the hard contours of his chest, the strength in his arms, and the heat radiating from him despite his cool skin. My thoughts were a chaotic blur of panic and a sudden, overwhelming attraction to the man who was supposed to be my guardian.

He kicked open the door to a massive, marble bathroom. He carried me straight into the walk-in glass shower stall and set me down on my feet, keeping one hand firmly on my waist to keep me from falling.

Before I could say anything, he reached out and turned the handle.

A stream of freezing cold water blasted down on us from the ceiling showerhead.

I shrieked at the sudden shock, trying to pull away from the icy spray, but Dominic’s grip on my waist tightened, pulling me back under the water. The cold rain drenched both of us instantly, flattening his hair and soaking through his black silk robe until it stuck to his skin, outlining every single ripple of his abdominal muscles.

"Stay still," Dominic commanded, his voice rough and deep as the water poured over his face. "The cold water will slow down whatever they gave you."

But it wasn't working the way he wanted. The cold water against my overheated skin only made my senses sharper, more sensitive. I looked up at him through the water droplets, my eyes fixing on his wet, parted lips.

"Dominic," I breathed, my hands sliding up his chest, feeling the heavy, rapid thudding of his heart.

He looked down at me, his grey eyes dark with a sudden, dangerous hunger that he was desperately trying to hide.