She wasn't sure what shook more — her knees, or the storm behind Aiden's eyes.
He hadn't said it in defeat.
He said it like a warning.
Like she was fire and he'd willingly walked into the flames.
He still had her pinned against the wall, their bodies flush, their breaths tangled. But something had changed. The dominance in his grip had softened, shifted — into something that felt like surrender. Quiet. Raw.
> "I thought I built walls high enough," he said against her throat, lips brushing the bruises he'd left behind. "But then you walked in... and didn't knock."
Zara stared at him, pulse thudding in her chest. "Then lock the door next time."
Aiden chuckled — low, broken — but the sound didn't last.
> "You don't get it, Zara. You're not breaking rules anymore. You're breaking me."
She didn't know what to say.
So she didn't.
She just pressed her lips to his — not to tease, not to tempt — but to tell him she heard him. Felt him. Understood him.
He didn't deepen the kiss. Didn't push her into another punishment.
Instead, he stepped back.
> "Shower," he said, voice quiet but commanding. "And dress warm. We're going out."
Zara blinked. "Where?"
> "Someplace quiet."
> "Are you going to punish me again?"
> "No," he murmured. "I'm going to give you a memory you can't control."
---
Thirty Minutes Later…
They didn't go far.
Just up to the hills behind the mansion, where the city lights looked like stars trying to compete with the real ones.
The night was cool. Crisp. Silent.
Zara sat on the hood of the car, legs dangling, wearing Aiden's jacket. He stood beside her, hands in his pockets, head tilted to the sky.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
Until he did.
> "I was ten when I first learned love was a weakness."
Zara glanced at him.
> "My mother loved my father more than he deserved. It destroyed her."
> "You're not him," she said softly.
> "No," Aiden nodded. "I'm worse. Because I know better."
He looked at her then — truly looked.
> "And yet... here I am. Giving you pieces of me I didn't know I had."
Zara swallowed hard. "Is that what this is? A gift?"
> "No," he said, stepping closer. "It's a threat."
He pulled something from his pocket. A small, velvet box.
> "Wear it," he said. "If you want to keep ruining me."
Inside: a delicate pendant. Silver. Shaped like a lock.
Not a collar. Not a brand.
Just a choice.
Zara stared at it.
> "And if I say no?"
Aiden smiled faintly. "Then I'll just have to ruin you first."
She snorted. "You already have."
But her hand closed around the box anyway.
Not for control.
Not for obedience.
Just for him.
The silence between them wasn't awkward.
It was… full.
Of breath they didn't know they were holding.
Of words they weren't ready to say.
Zara rolled the pendant between her fingers, watching how the moonlight danced across the polished silver. A lock. Small. Elegant. Dangerous.
Just like this man.
"You're not making this easy," she whispered.
Aiden leaned against the car beside her, his shoulder brushing hers.
> "Since when have I ever made anything easy?"
She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
> "I don't want to ruin you," she said quietly.
> "Too late for that."
He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. The gesture was so gentle, it stole her breath more than his punishments ever had.
> "But if I'm going down," he murmured, "I'd rather it be you."
That made her look at him. Really look.
And that's when she saw it — the crack in his armor. The part of him still learning how to feel without control.
Zara reached for the necklace and, without a word, fastened it around her neck.
His jaw clenched, eyes dropping to the small lock now resting against her throat.
"Does this mean you're mine again?" he asked, voice low.
"It means…" She hesitated. "I want to know who you are when you're not trying to control everything."
Aiden nodded once, lips tight.
"You'll wish you didn't."
She arched a brow. "Try me."
---
Back at the Mansion…
The ride home was quiet. Not tense — just thoughtful.
Zara didn't ask what this night meant. She didn't have to. The way his hand never left her thigh the entire drive said enough.
When they entered the house, Aiden didn't drag her to the bedroom.
He didn't give her orders.
Instead, he walked her to the kitchen and started heating water for tea.
Zara blinked. "You cook?"
> "I own chefs."
> "So you don't cook."
> "No," he said, pouring water into two mugs. "But I can make tea."
She smiled. "And here I thought I'd seen all your layers."
> "Oh, sweetheart." He slid the mug across the counter toward her. "You haven't even scratched the surface."
Zara sipped the tea, watching him over the rim.
> "You're different tonight."
> "Don't get used to it."
> "I don't want your softness, Aiden," she whispered. "I want your truth."
That made him pause.
Then — he stepped around the island, took the mug from her hand, and placed it on the counter.
> "Then come here," he said. "And I'll show you what the truth feels like."
He didn't push her against a wall this time. Didn't demand or command.
He lifted her onto the counter slowly, cupped her face, and kissed her — deep and unhurried.
Like he meant it.
Like she was already his, lock and key.
---