The door cracked open again, just hours after Vera had left.
I stiffened instantly, my pulse jumping. For a fleeting second, I thought it was her again, back to throw more venom in my face, to remind me once more that I was nothing but a prisoner.
But it wasn't Vera.
A man stepped inside instead. His shoulders were broad, his black shirt rolled at the sleeves, revealing a tattoo winding up his arm. He looked familiar—too familiar. My breath caught as recognition flashed.
He had been there the night they stormed my house. He was one of the men who had dragged me out while Adrian watched with that ruthless gaze, giving silent commands like a king directing his soldiers.
His voice was deep, clipped, leaving no room for argument. "Boss wants you downstairs."
My stomach twisted at the word Boss.
Adrian.
I hugged my arms around myself, instinctively shrinking back a little. "I'm not going anywhere," I snapped, though the words sounded weaker than I intended.
The man's eyes narrowed slightly, and his jaw tightened. "You don't get a choice. Move."
I hated that he was right. If I refused, they'd drag me again, humiliate me all over. And I couldn't give them that satisfaction.
So I forced myself to stand, my legs heavy but steady. "Fine," I muttered. "Let's get this over with."
The man gave a short nod and stepped aside, waiting for me to pass him. The moment I did, he followed close behind, his presence like a shadow breathing down my neck.
The hallway stretched before me, far grander than I had realized last night. When they brought me in, everything was a blur of adrenaline, fear, and the sharp sting of manhandling. But now—now I saw the truth of this place.
The mansion was a palace.
The marble floors gleamed beneath my feet, polished to the point of reflection. Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, their crystals scattering shards of light across the hall. Expensive art lined the walls, each piece a silent display of wealth and status. Everything reeked of power.
Somewhere deeper in the mansion, music drifted through the air.
But it wasn't beauty that unsettled me.
It was the danger lurking behind it.
Men stood at every corner, dressed in black, their hands always near the guns holstered at their waists. Their eyes flicked to me as I passed, sharp and assessing, like predators sizing up prey.
And then there were the women.
As we moved closer to the main room, laughter and perfume drifted in the air. The sound grated on me. When I finally stepped into the open space, my stomach knotted.
Adrian sat there.
He lounged back in an armchair like a king in his den, one arm draped lazily over the side, the other holding a cigarette between his fingers. Smoke curled lazily in the air, circling his face in a way that made him look both untouchable and dangerous.
And around him—women.
They draped themselves across the chairs, across him, like ornaments desperate for attention. Their dresses were short, their heels clicking against the marble as they moved. Some whispered in his ear, others giggled at jokes he hadn't even made.
I froze, bile rising in my throat.
He looked up at me.
And just like that, the room stilled.
His eyes found mine instantly, locking on as though the rest of the world ceased to exist. My breath caught despite myself.
I had seen that face before.
Not here. Not like this.
On the news.
His father—one of the most powerful men in the country—was always plastered across headlines. "Business tycoon." "Kingmaker." "The man behind the empire." But I knew better. Everyone did, even if they never said it out loud. Blood money ran in that family's veins.
And Adrian—his heir—was now taking over.
My pulse raced as the realization settled in. I hadn't just been dragged into some random criminal's den. I had been thrown into the heart of power.
"Stacy," Adrian said smoothly, my name rolling off his tongue like he owned it. "You look… better in daylight."
His voice made my skin crawl.
I clenched my fists. "What do you want from me?"
The corner of his mouth curved upward. He took a long drag from his cigarette, then exhaled slowly, deliberately, before answering.
"I don't want anything. Not yet."
"Then why am I here?" I demanded, stepping forward despite the stares of his men and his women. "Why drag me into this hellhole? What did my brother do?"
His expression didn't shift. If anything, his eyes grew colder.
"That's not your concern."
My anger snapped like a whip. "Not my concern? You kidnapped me because of him! Don't you dare tell me it's not my concern!"
One of the women perched at his side giggled, whispering something in his ear. He ignored her, his gaze never leaving me.
He flicked the cigarette into an ashtray, leaning forward now, elbows resting on his knees. His presence felt heavier with every second.
"You don't ask questions in my world, Stacy," he said softly, though his tone was razor sharp. "Questions get you hurt."
I refused to back down. "Maybe I'd rather get hurt than be kept in the dark. Or are you too much of a coward to admit what you've done?"
The words slipped out before I could stop them. The air in the room grew tense, like even the walls held their breath.
Adrian rose to his feet slowly, every movement deliberate. The women around him scattered slightly, giving him space. He didn't shout. He didn't lunge. But the weight of his anger was suffocating.
He closed the distance between us with slow, steady steps.
When he stood inches from me, towering, I could feel the heat of his presence, the smoke still lingering on his shirt.
"Careful, princess," he murmured, his eyes dark with something I couldn't name. "You're brave… but bravery has its limits."
I tilted my chin, refusing to shrink back. "I'm not afraid of you."
His smile was cruel, dangerous. "You should be."
My heart thudded so loudly I thought he might hear it. But I held his stare, refusing to let him see fear.
"Take her back upstairs," Adrian said suddenly, his voice snapping through the silence.
The man from earlier stepped forward immediately.
I spun on my heel before he could touch me. "Don't bother. I'll walk myself."
The women tittered behind me as I strode toward the stairs, their laughter sharp and mocking. But I didn't look back.
I climbed the stairs quickly, my pulse racing, anger burning through my veins.
When I reached the room again and the lock clicked shut, I collapsed onto the bed, my hands shaking with fury.
I hated him.
I hated the arrogance in his voice, the smugness in his smile, the way he treated me like some game he could control.
But most of all, I hated how he had refused to answer.
What did my brother do?
And why did Adrian want me?