Chapter Four

Anna

By eight o’clock that evening, my bedroom had been converted into a maximum security cell.

Two tactical technicians in unmarked dark gray jumpsuits had spent hours drilling heavy iron deadbolts into my balcony doors, affixing shatterproof, bullet resistant film across every pane of glass, and mounting subtle, low-light thermal cameras over the corners of my ceiling. They worked with silent, practiced efficiency, moving around my velvet armchair and canopy bed as if I were simply an obstacle to navigate.

And through it all, Klaus Dominic sat in the dark wood armchair in the far corner of the room, watching everything.

He hadn't taken off his suit jacket. He hadn't unbuttoned his collar. He sat with his hands resting flat on his knees, his spine perfectly straight, his dark hazel eyes tracking every drill bit, every screw, every breath I drew. He looked like an apex predator waiting patiently in the tall grass, silent, motioned, and terrifyingly relaxed.

"Is the surveillance feed wired to my phone or just yours?" I asked, breaking the oppressive silence that had hung over the room for hours. I stood near my vanity, running a silver hairbrush through my hair, having just showered and changed into silk lounge pants and a sheer, lace trimmed camisole.

"Mine," Klaus replied, his voice a quiet rumble that cut through the sound of the rain lashing against the newly reinforced balcony glass. "Your personal devices have been disabled."

I froze, the hairbrush hovering mid-air. I turned slowly to face him. "My phone is turned off?"

"Your phone, your laptop, and your tablet have been placed in an electromagnetic shield bag in the security office," Klaus said calmly, not even blinking. "Unencrypted personal devices are homing beacons for high-level tactical trackers. You will not be using them."

"You can't just isolate me from the outside world!" I snapped, dropping the brush onto the marble vanity with a sharp clack. "I have friends, Klaus! I have people who expect me to answer their text messages!"

"Your classes are suspended," he repeated, his tone identical to the one he had used downstairs in the foyer, a wall of smooth, unbroken granite. "And anyone attempting to contact you through unsecure channels will receive an automated out-of-office notification."

"You are unbelievable," I breathed, taking three steps toward his corner. "You think you can just march into my life and erase my existence because my father is a paranoid coward?"

Klaus shifted slightly. He didn't stand, but his dark eyes rose to meet mine, catching the dim amber light of the floor lamp beside his chair. Up close, in the quiet intimacy of my bedroom, his physical presence felt almost suffocating. He smelled like winter air and faint cedar wood.

"Your father isn't paranoid, Miss Mandell," Klaus said softly, his dark eyes narrowing just a fraction. "He is terrified. And given the individual who breached your gallery last night, he has every reason to be."

I narrowed my eyes, catching the slip. "You know who it was."

Klaus didn't answer. He simply stared at me, his face an impenetrable mask.

"You knew before you even took the contract," I pushed, taking another step closer, my bare feet silent against the thick Persian rug. I stopped barely three feet away from him, leaning forward slightly, trying to force him to break his stoic composure. "My father said the intruder was an 'old enemy.' Someone who should be dead. Who is he, Klaus? What did my father do to him?"

"My contract is to ensure your physical integrity," Klaus murmured, his voice dropping into a low, dangerously soft register that made a strange shiver run down my spine. "It does not include answering historical inquiries."

"I have a right to know who threatened my life!"

"You have a right to remain breathing," he corrected smoothly. "Nothing more. Nothing less."

I gritted my teeth, frustration boiling hot in my chest. He was infuriating. Every time I tried to find a crack in his armor, every time I tried to push his buttons or get a reaction out of him, he simply absorbed the blow and threw it back at me with absolute, cold professionalism.

"Fine," I said, my voice dropping into a quiet, defiant pitch. "If I'm trapped in this house, I'm going to my studio downstairs. I need my paints."

I turned on my heel and headed straight for the bedroom door.

"The residence is on total lockdown after 2000 hours," Klaus said behind me. "You remain in this suite."

"I am going to the ground floor conservatory," I said, reaching for the heavy brass door handle. "It's inside the house, it's behind your precious perimeter, and I need something to do besides sitting here watching you breathe."

I pulled the handle down and yanked the door open.

I didn't even hear his footsteps.

Before I could take a single step into the hallway, a massive arm reached past my shoulder, slamming the heavy oak door shut with a thunderous BANG that echoed down the quiet corridor.

I gasped, my back hitting the solid plane of Klaus’s chest.

He was standing directly behind me. The heat radiating off his massive body was overwhelming, wrapping around me like a velvet furnace. His left hand was planted firmly against the wood of the door right beside my ear, pinning me in place, while his right hand came around my waist, his broad palm flattening against the center of my stomach to flush my hips flush against his thighs.

I froze, my breath catching violently in my throat.

He was so close I could feel the hard ridge of his belt buckle pressing into the small of my back, the sheer width of his chest completely devouring mine from behind. He didn't just hold me; he caged me, his heavy frame forcing every curve of my body against the immovable steel of his own.

"I gave you an instruction, Miss Mandell," he purred into my ear, his lips so close the heat of his mouth grazed the sensitive shell of my ear, sending an electric, wicked shiver straight down my spine. "You do not open doors in this house without my clearance."

My heart was hammering like a trapped bird, but not from fear. Not entirely.

Through the thin lace of my camisole, I could feel the intense, burning heat of his broad hand against my belly. His thumb shifted, a slow, deliberate stroke through the silk fabric that made my breath hitch into a sharp gasp. The contact was heavy, possessive, and dangerously deliberate. The subtle press of his body behind me left no doubt as to the physical effect my defiance, or my lack of clothing, was having on him, despite his iron restraint.

"Klaus..." I whispered, my voice thick and trembling, my head tilting back involuntarily until the crown rested against his shoulder. "Get... off me."

"Say it like you mean it, Anna," he murmured, his voice dropping into a thick, gravelly baritone that felt like silk and fire against my skin. His fingers flared wider against my stomach, pulling me back another fraction of an inch until there wasn't a whisper of air left between us.

I swallowed hard, my core tightening with a sudden, dizzying rush of heat. I could feel the heavy, erratic thud of his heart against my shoulder blades, betraying the icy calm of his voice. He wanted to consume me. He was starving, and I was pinned against a door in my nightwear, completely at his mercy.

For three agonizing, breathless seconds, the room hung on a razor's edge. My hips brushed against his as I took a shallow breath, and I heard a low, ragged rumble catch deep in his chest—a sound so dark and primal it made my knees go weak.

Then, just as quickly as the fire had ignited, the tension snapped.

Klaus abruptly released my waist. He stepped back three full paces, his hands returning to his sides, his chest heaving slightly as he dragged air back into his lungs.

"The conservatory has three unreinforced glass panels," he said, his voice instantly locking back into a flat, professional mask, though his hazel eyes were dark as pitch, blown wide with restrained desire. "It is a tactical nightmare. You will not enter that room until those panels are fitted with protective mesh tomorrow morning."

I stood pressed against the door, my lips parted, my chest rising and falling heavily. My skin burned everywhere his hands had touched. I looked at him, completely undone, while he stood there pretending he hadn't just pressed me against a wall until my head spun.

"You're a tyrant," I breathed, my voice shaking with a dangerous mixture of anger and raw, unfulfilled longing.

"I am alive," Klaus countered smoothly, adjusting the cuff of his suit jacket with a hand that remained impeccably steady. "And as long as you obey protocol, so are you. Now go to bed, Miss Mandell."

Without another word, I turned, walked to the canopy bed, and climbed beneath the covers. But as I pulled the duvet up to my chin and stared at the dark silhouette of the giant sitting in the corner of my room, my pulse refused to slow down.

He was my protector. My prison guard. But as I closed my eyes, all I could feel was the phantom imprint of his palm pressed flush against my stomach, and the dangerous, intoxicating heat of his body pressed against mine.