The days that followed my failed escape were different.
Derek didn't punish me with violence.
Instead, he punished me with something far more dangerous.
Control.
He demanded my presence at dinner. Made me sit beside him during meetings. Ensured I was always within his reach.
And worst of all?
He never touched me.
Not once.
And that drove me insane.
At first, I thought it was a trick. A way to lower my guard. But night after night, he ignored me, barely sparing me a glance. The way his hands never brushed against my skin, the way he spoke to me like I was just another guest in his house—it was infuriating.
One night, I snapped.
"You're playing games," I hissed as he poured himself a glass of whiskey.
Derek raised a brow. "Am I?"
"You punish me by making me want you," I accused.
He smirked. "Who said that's a punishment?"
I clenched my jaw, frustration burning through me. "You—"
He closed the distance between us in a blink, his hands gripping my waist as he pulled me against him.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured.
I opened my mouth— But no words came.
His grip tightened. His lips hovered just above mine.
Then he pulled away.
And that was when I realized—
I wasn't just Derek Moretti's prisoner.
I was falling for him.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.
---
The realization haunted me. I spent hours pacing my room, trying to understand how I had let this happen. He was my captor, the man who had stolen my freedom, and yet… he was also the man who made my pulse race with a single glance.
The next evening, I tried to avoid him. I stayed in my room, refused dinner, and ignored the knock at my door. But Derek was not a man to be ignored.
The door swung open without warning, and he stepped inside, exuding dominance.
"Elena," he said smoothly, closing the distance between us. "Are we playing hide and seek now?"
"I have nothing to say to you."
He smirked. "That's a shame, considering you had so much to say last night."
Heat crept up my neck. "Go to hell."
His gaze darkened with amusement as he took another step forward. I backed up until my knees hit the bed.
"You think you can avoid me?" he murmured, brushing a finger under my chin. "You think staying in your room will change what's happening between us?"
"There is nothing happening between us."
Derek chuckled, low and knowing. "Keep telling yourself that, princess."
Before I could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I own you, Elena. And one day soon, you'll beg me to remind you of that."
I swallowed hard, my breath shaky.
Because deep down, I feared he was right.