My back pressed against the cold door, its solid weight grounding me as I struggled to catch my breath. Alexander stood mere inches away, his towering presence swallowing the space between us. His storm-gray eyes burned with an intensity that made it impossible to look away—a volatile mix of fury and something far more dangerous.
"Say it," he demanded, his voice a low growl, the words vibrating in the charged air.
I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms as I fought to steady myself. "Say what?" I spat, my voice trembling but defiant. "That you're a control-obsessed tyrant who thrives on manipulating everyone around you? Fine, Alexander. You're a bastard."
His lips twitched, a flicker of amusement that only fueled my anger. How could he smirk when my blood boiled? He leaned closer, his proximity suffocating, and I pressed harder against the door, desperate to reclaim some distance.
"Control?" he murmured, his tone sharp and taunting. "You think this is about control, Emma?"
"What else would it be about?" My voice rose with indignation. "You've been pulling strings since the moment we met, forcing me into this... whatever this is!"
My hand moved before I could stop myself. The sharp crack of my slap echoed through the room. For a moment, time froze, the only sound my ragged breathing. I stared at him, my chest tight with anger and something far more elusive. Was it desire? No, that couldn't be right. I couldn't be feeling this way. I hated him.
Alexander turned his head slowly, the red mark on his cheek vivid against his pale skin. His eyes darkened, a muscle in his jaw tightening as the air between us grew heavier, almost suffocating.
"You shouldn't have done that," he said softly, his words laced with warning.
A shiver ran down my spine, but I lifted my chin, refusing to back down. "What are you going to do about it?" I challenged, though my voice betrayed a hint of unsteadiness.
He moved with startling speed, his hand tangling in my hair as he pulled me toward him. The abruptness stole my breath, and before I could react, his lips captured mine.
It wasn't gentle. His mouth was hard, demanding, the heat of him crashing into me like a storm. I could taste the faint bitterness of coffee and something sharper, uniquely him, as his lips moved against mine. His hand tightened in my hair, holding me in place, while his other hand pressed against the door beside me, boxing me in.
I stiffened, my hands rising to push him away, but the shock and sheer force of his kiss left me momentarily frozen. The heat radiating from his body seeped into mine, setting my nerves alight. His stubble scraped against my skin, a rough contrast to the soft, intoxicating pressure of his mouth.
I hated him—hated the way he unraveled me with a single touch, a single kiss. And yet, despite myself, a whimper escaped my throat. My fists, poised to strike him again, faltered and clung instead to the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer even as my mind screamed for me to stop. I couldn't—couldn't stop myself. My fingers trembled against his chest, and I loathed that I needed him in this moment.
His breath mingled with mine, heavy and uneven, as the kiss deepened. The taste of him was maddening, a mixture of anger and desire that left me reeling. My heart thundered in my chest, the sound almost deafening in the otherwise silent room.
When he finally pulled away, my lips tingled, swollen and raw from the intensity. I was trembling, gasping for air as his forehead rested against mine. His breath fanned over my face, warm and ragged, matching the rapid rise and fall of my chest.
I wanted to push him away, to scream at him, but I couldn't. Not yet. His lips—so close—still hovered above mine, and I couldn't ignore the way my body betrayed me, wanting more even though I hated him for it.
"You can hate me all you want," he said, his voice rough and low, the words brushing against my lips like a taunt. "But you can't deny the power I have over you."
My heart raced as I struggled to push him away, my hands weak against his chest. His words cut deeper than I wanted to admit, striking a nerve I couldn't ignore. I despised myself for feeling it. The raw, unspoken truth of it—a truth I refused to accept.
"No! You don't have any power over me," I protested weakly, my voice barely above a whisper.
I shoved him harder this time, breaking free from his hold. Anger and humiliation burned in my veins as I glared at him. "You think a kiss changes anything?" I snapped. "You only know force and manipulation, not love. Like you forced me to marry you, and now you're trying to force me to feel something. But I won't let you control me anymore."
I turned sharply, my steps firm as I moved to leave. But before I could take more than a step, his hand clamped around my wrist, pulling me back against his chest.
"Control?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, sending a shiver down my spine. "I haven't even begun to show you what that means."
My heart pounded as I struggled against his grip, fear and defiance warring within me. What did he mean by that? What more could he possibly do? The thought both terrified and intrigued me.
"Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?" I demanded, my voice shaking with a mixture of anger and fear. "Let me go," I whispered, though the words felt hollow. "Or else—"
"Or else what?" His smirk was mocking, his eyes daring me to challenge him. "Tell me, little bird, what will you do?"
Before I could muster a response, the sound of a door slamming down the hall shattered the tense silence. Alexander's head snapped toward the noise, his body instantly rigid. The look in his eyes shifted then, cold and calculating. It was subtle, but it was there. Like he was already playing a different game. Like I was just one move on a chessboard.
"What is it?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
He didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed my hand, his grip firm and unyielding. "Stay here," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.
"Alexander, what's going on?" I demanded, fear creeping into my voice.
But he was already moving, striding toward the door with deliberate purpose. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone in the suffocating quiet.
I pressed my back against the wall, my heart pounding as the silence stretched on. The cold stone around me felt like it was closing in, pressing in on my chest. My thoughts swirled—confusion, anger, fear. Then, a muffled crash beyond the door jolted me into action.
I couldn't stay here.
The urgency to understand what was happening overwhelmed my fear. My feet carried me into the dimly lit hallway, the cold stone biting against my bare skin. Shadows danced along the walls, whispering dangers I couldn't see. A low growl reached my ears, followed by a sharp cry of pain that made my blood run cold.
I crept forward, drawn to the source of the noise despite my trembling hands. At the end of the hall, a door stood ajar, light spilling out in jagged beams. My breath hitched as I hesitated, but Alexander's voice—low and commanding—spurred me onward.
Pushing the door open slightly, I froze at the scene before me. Alexander stood rigid, his back to me, facing a shadowy figure that filled the room with an oppressive presence.
The figure shifted, its eyes gleaming in the dim light. My breath caught as Alexander turned his head slightly, his voice slicing through the tension.
"Go back, Emma."
But it was too late. The figure moved again, and in that moment, I knew nothing would ever be the same.