Serene stood beneath the arch of Roman's grand estate, her breath catching as the limousine pulled into the private courtyard. She wore the dress he'd chosen—a silk sheath of midnight blue that hugged her body like a secret. The diamonds on her ears glittered like stars, and her braids were pinned high with gold combs. She looked expensive. She looked owned.
"Beautiful," Roman said as he approached her, his dark suit tailored to perfection, the top buttons undone with studied ease. "I could spend hours just watching you breathe."
She looked away, her lips curving in a polite smile. It was their first date. Their first "public outing," as he called it. He had promised—promised—that it would just be dinner. No traps. No games. No violence.
But Serene had long since learned not to believe in promises.
The restaurant was impossibly elite—glass walls, a rooftop view of the glowing city, chandeliers that looked like they were weeping crystal. Roman held her hand too tightly as they walked in. He didn't speak, but she felt it in his touch:
Mine.
They were seated at a private table near the center. And that's when she noticed it.
Him.
A man across the room. Early forties, expensive clothes, a wine glass in hand. He looked at her like she was a thing—something that could be priced and purchased. His stare didn't wander. It devoured.
Serene shifted uncomfortably.
Roman noticed.
His fingers froze around the fork.
His voice was soft. "Ignore him."
She nodded. But the man didn't stop. Even as they ate, even as Roman reached across the table to gently wipe the corner of her lip, that man watched.
"I don't like him," Serene whispered.
Roman's smile was tight. "Neither do I."
He said nothing more.
But Serene saw the shadows darken in his eyes.
---
After dinner, Serene excused herself to the bathroom.
Roman's warning had been clear earlier—stay within sight, don't talk to strangers, trust no one but me.
Still, she needed a moment to breathe.
She passed the grand piano, the hallway empty except for the gleaming marble beneath her heels.
She didn't notice he had followed until it was too late.
"Quite the view tonight," the voice drawled behind her.
She turned. The man.
"Didn't mean to spook you," he said, smiling like a shark. "Couldn't help but notice—you're too stunning to be hanging off a man like Roman Ashborne. Heard what kind of things he does to his women."
She backed away. "Please leave."
He chuckled. "No need to be shy, sweetheart. I bet you're dying for someone to touch you properly."
His hand reached for her waist.
He never made it.
There was a crack—the sound of knuckles meeting bone. The man dropped instantly, groaning as he hit the wall.
Roman was there.
His eyes were wild, breath short, jaw clenched so tight his cheek twitched.
He had run to her.
"Roman," Serene whispered. "You said—"
"I know what I said."
He stepped over the man, lifted him by his collar, and slammed him against the wall again.
"You thought I wouldn't notice?" Roman snarled. "You thought you could touch her? Look at her?"
Blood dripped from the man's nose.
Roman didn't stop.
He struck him again.
And again.
Until Serene screamed, "Stop it— you're going to kill him!"
Roman froze, chest heaving. Then he turned—his eyes finding hers.
And for a second, Serene saw something terrible in them.
He was shaking. Not with fear.
But with fury.
With the terror of nearly losing her.
"I told you I'd never hurt you," he said, voice trembling. "But I never said I wouldn't hurt others."
He let the man drop like garbage.
Then he stepped toward Serene.
She stepped back.
"Don't be afraid of me," Roman said quietly. "Be afraid of what I'll do for you."
He held out his hand.
She hesitated.
Then—slowly, as if surrendering—she took it.
---
The ride back was silent. Roman's hand never left hers, but his body buzzed with barely-contained energy.
Serene stared out the window, her mind spiraling. She should have been grateful. He had protected her.
But it didn't feel like protection.
It felt like possession.
And somewhere deep in her bones, she knew—this was only the beginning.
---