Raven's Point of View
I shouldn't have gotten in the car.
That was the first thing my brain screamed the second the door shut and the quiet wrapped around us. The heat hummed softly through the vents, crawling over my skin, warming places that absolutely did not need to be warmed right now.
I stared straight ahead, fingers clenched around my bag, every nerve in my body painfully aware of him beside me.
Dominic Derveaux.
Too close.
Too solid.
Too fucking distracting.
The tight black shirt stretched across his chest when he shifted, jeans riding low on his hips in a way that felt illegal. I swallowed hard and immediately hated myself for noticing. For remembering. For how my body reacted before my mind could catch up.
He told me about his marriage.
Arranged.
A contract.
No love.
No shared bed.
No shared home.
I wanted to believe him.
God, I wanted to believe him so badly it scared me.
Because if it were true-if he didn't love her, if that life wasn't real-then maybe what happened between us wasn't as wrong as it felt.
But how could I?
I had just seen her face in the newspaper. Her lips on his cheek. His smile-wide, effortless, intimate. The kind of smile you don't fake for cameras.
My stomach twisted.
Two weeks ago, I had let this man fuck me without a condom. Had trusted him with something I never trusted anyone with. And this morning-I had stared down at a plastic stick in my bathroom, heart pounding so loud I thought I might throw up.
Thank God it was negative.
But that didn't erase the fear.
Didn't erase how close I'd come to tying myself permanently to a married man who ruled a city from the shadows.
Almost pregnant.
Almost ruined.
Almost his.
The thought made my chest tighten.
I shifted in my seat, trying to cool the warmth pooling low in my stomach as his gaze flicked to me again. He hadn't stopped looking since we got in the car. Not really.
It wasn't casual.
It was possessive.
The heater kicked on, warm air brushing my legs, my arms-everywhere I was already too aware. My skin still felt like it remembered his hands. His chest. The way he held me like he didn't care who was watching.
I stared straight ahead, fingers digging into the shopping bag on my lap.
God.
I almost gave in.
I almost let myself forget everything.
He was looking at me.
I could feel it.
"You okay?" he asked.
I laughed-short, sharp, humorless. "You really asking me that?"
He frowned slightly. "Raven-"
"Take me home."
The words came out before I could stop them.
He stilled.
Then he turned to me, disbelief written all over his face. "Come on," he said. "You're not serious."
I nodded, finally looking at him. "I am."
His jaw tightened. "After all that?"
"All that," I repeated, my voice shaking now. "I just saw your wife."
Silence slammed down between us.
"And here you are," I continued, forcing the words out, "trying to be with me. Or fuck me. Or whatever it is you think you're doing."
His eyes darkened. "That's not what this is."
"Then what is it?" I snapped. "Because from where I'm sitting you were just inside that mall with her."
He scoffed. "For two minutes."
"Exactly," I shot back. "Two minutes. Two minutes in a place neither of you belong."
His jaw flexed.
Because he knew I was right.
Because he didn't belong there.
A billionaire standing under flickering fluorescent lights, surrounded by cheap fabric and clearance racks.
But him?
Him, I understood.
Dominic didn't do coincidence.
Dominic did intention.
If he was there, it was because he wanted to be.
Because he wanted me.
Because he would always find a way to get to me.
That part didn't scare me.
It was her.
She didn't belong there.
She lived on the other side of the city. In glass towers and marble floors. In places where everything smelled expensive and untouched.
To get to Lower Ash, she would've had to cross Ashwick.
Nearly an hour.
An hour... just to stand in that mall.
Watching.
My stomach twisted.
"I don't care why you were there," I said quietly. "I care that she was."
That hit him.
I saw it in the way his fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
"You don't know what I was saying to her," he muttered.
"Then enlighten me," I said, my voice sharper now. "Because all I saw was her standing there like she belonged to you."
His voice dropped.
"I was telling her to leave."
I froze.
"What?"
His eyes locked onto mine.
Cold. Certain. Possessive.
"She's been following me," he said.
My breath caught.
Following him.
Not coincidence.
Not shopping.
Following.
Something cold slid down my spine.
Because that meant she knew.
She knew about me.
"She doesn't love me," he continued, his voice flat. Detached. "She loves what I am. What I built. What I give her."
His eyes flicked to mine.
"But she's not you."
My chest tightened painfully.
Because he'd told me before.
He didn't love.
He didn't feel it.
He didn't believe in it.
And yet...
He was here.
Breaking his own rules.
For me.
"No," I said suddenly, my voice trembling despite my effort to steady it. "This can't happen again."
His jaw flexed.
"You're married," I continued. "I don't care what kind of marriage it is. I don't care what deal you made. I won't be that girl."
Something dark flashed in his eyes.
"I just told you-"
"I know what you told me," I cut in. "Arranged marriage. No love. Separate lives." I swallowed. "But she exists, Dominic. She followed you. She stood there and looked at me like she already knew."
His gaze dropped to my mouth.
Lingering.
Dangerous.
"You felt it too," he said quietly.
My throat tightened.
"I did," I admitted.
That was the worst part.
Because I did.
I felt him everywhere.
In my skin.
In my thoughts.
In places I couldn't reach without breaking myself.
"And that's why you need to take me home," I whispered.
Finally, he exhaled sharply and put the car in drive.
The ride was quiet.
Too quiet.
Every red light felt like a pause where he might say something that would pull me back in. Every glance I caught from the corner of my eye made my stomach twist.
When we stopped in front of my building, he didn't look at me right away.
"Raven," he said eventually, his voice low. Controlled.
I reached for the handle before he could say anything else.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Derveaux."
The name hit him like a slap.
I felt it.
Even without looking.
The air shifted.
Heavy.
His jaw clenched-I saw it from the corner of my eye. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, veins rising beneath his skin. His eyes darkened in a way that made my pulse spike, made heat crawl up my spine even as I forced myself to open the door.
Distance.
That's what he needed.
That's what I needed.
I stepped out.
I didn't look back.
I couldn't.
Because I knew if I did, I'd fold.
And whatever he felt for his wife...
It wasn't even close to what he felt for me.
That terrified me more than anything.
The cold air hit my face, sharp and biting-but not like before.
The snow along the sidewalks had begun to melt, slushy and gray, water slipping into the cracks of the pavement. Winter wasn't gone, but it was weakening.
Or maybe I was.
I adjusted the shopping bag in my hand and walked toward the porch, my boots crunching softly.
That's when I heard it.
A deep, violent sound.
Metal straining.
I turned.
And my breath caught.
Dominic's car.
Black. Low. Expensive. Predatory.
Smoke curled from behind the tires as the engine roared, loud and furious, vibrating through the quiet street like something alive.
His foot was still on the brake.
Holding it.
Forcing the car to stay still.
Like he was barely holding himself back.
The windows were tinted too dark to see inside.
But I didn't need to see him.
I could feel him.
Feel the anger.
The loss of control.
The moment breaking inside him.
And then-
He let go.
The car launched forward violently, tires screaming against the pavement as it tore down the street, disappearing too fast. Too sudden. Too angry.
The wind hit me, cold and sharp, whipping a strand of hair across my face.
My heart pounded.
He was furious.
Not calm Dominic.
Not controlled Dominic.
Not the man who always had the upper hand.
This was something else.
Something raw.
Something dangerous.
Something I caused.
I swallowed.
Good.
I turned back toward the building, fingers trembling as I pushed through the front door and climbed the stairs. The place smelled like old carpet and someone else's dinner. I fumbled for my key in my jeans pocket and unlocked the door.
The moment I pushed the door open, I heard them.
"So I'm just saying-"
"No, because if it were me-"
Jamie and Lila were already mid-argument, sprawled on the couch like they owned the place.
Which... they basically did.
"Thank you for leaving me," I said dryly, dropping my bag near the door.
Lila twisted around immediately. "You're the one who wanted to wait for him."
Jamie leaned forward, eyes scanning me from head to toe. Then he smirked.
"Hmmm," he said. "By the way you're walking, I'm guessing y'all didn't fuck."
I rolled my eyes, toeing my boots off. "Oh my God."
"So that's a no?" Lila pressed.
I walked further in, my body finally unclenching now that I was home. Safe. Small. Real.
"No," I said. "It's a didn't."
Jamie grinned. "Character development."
Lila moved closer, her voice softer now. "Okay. Talk to us."
I sighed. "He told me to get in the car. Firmly."
Lila tilted her head. "And?"
I inhaled. "And then he told me..." My voice dropped. "The marriage is fake."
Jamie froze.
Lila sat up straighter. "What?"
"He married her when he was nineteen," I said. "Arranged. Business. Contract. All of it."
The room went silent.
Jamie scoffed. "Of course he did."
"He said they don't live together. Don't sleep together. That it's just on paper." My throat tightened. I swallowed.
"He asked if I felt relieved."
Silence fell instantly.
Heavy.
Jamie frowned. "Relieved... how?"
I let out a small breath, staring at the floor. "At first, I thought it meant he wanted me to be okay with the fact that he's married."
Lila's face darkened immediately.
"But that's not it," I said softly.
They both waited.
I lifted my eyes to theirs.
"He didn't want me to be okay with his marriage." My voice dropped. "He wanted me to be okay with being his... while he's married."
Neither of them spoke.
Jamie's mouth slowly fell open.
Lila blinked. "That's... worse."
"It is," I whispered.
Because it wasn't casual.
It wasn't careless.
It was deliberate.
Possessive.
Claiming.
Like he wasn't asking permission.
Like he was asking acceptance.
The room went quiet again, the weight of it pressing down on all three of us.
And then something else surfaced in my mind.
Something that had been bothering me.
Something that didn't sit right.
I looked at them.
"Do you think it was a coincidence?" I asked.
Jamie tilted his head. "What?"
"That his wife was at the mall today."
The words hung there.
The room felt darker somehow.
More closed in.
Jamie frowned. "I mean... yeah? Maybe."
Lila immediately shook her head. "No."
We both looked at her.
Her expression had gone tight.
Uneasy.
"No," she repeated. "That woman did not belong there."
Jamie crossed his arms. "Rich people go everywhere."
"No, they don't," Lila snapped. "Not there."
That mall wasn't luxury.
It wasn't polished.
It wasn't her world.
And she knew it.
We all did.
I leaned back slowly.
And then I smiled.
A small, knowing smirk.
"She was following him."
Jamie blinked. "What?"
Lila froze.
"She saw me as a threat," I said simply.
The realization settled over them.
Jamie's eyes widened.
Lila's head snapped toward the window.
"Oh my God."
Before I could even react, she jumped up and rushed toward the curtains, grabbing them and yanking them shut.
"Lila-"
"That bitch might know where we live!" she whispered harshly, peeking through the fabric like someone was already outside watching us.
Jamie stood up too, suddenly invested. "Oh my God. Oh my God, this is how those documentaries start."
"Relax," I said.
"I am not relaxing!" Lila hissed. "You are sleeping with a married billionaire whose wife is clearly unhinged and stalking him."
"I'm not currently sleeping with him," I shot back, voice tight.
Jamie slowly turned to me.
"...Yet," he said.
"I'm not committing to him," I clarified.
Lila crossed her arms. "You want to."
I glared at her.
She didn't even flinch.
Jamie pointed at me. "You turned him down."
"Yes."
He narrowed his eyes. "But you wanted to say yes."
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Jamie gasped dramatically. "OH MY GOD."
"I said no," I snapped.
"That's not the same thing," he shot back.
Lila abandoned the window and grabbed my shoulders. "Listen to me. That woman is rich, bored, and married to a man she clearly does not want to lose. That is the most dangerous combination on earth."
Jamie nodded solemnly. "She has resources."
I stared at both of them.
"You two are insane."
"I'm not a mistress," I said firmly. "I've slept with him, yes-but that doesn't mean I'm his."
"You're the pre-mistress," he corrected, eyes wide.
"I'm nothing," I said, my chest tight.
They both stared at me.
Neither of them believed that.
And the worst part?
A small, traitorous voice inside me didn't believe it either.
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