Raven's Point of View
I was halfway asleep.
That soft, heavy kind where your body finally lets go. Where nothing hurts. Where the world doesn't feel so loud.
At home, it was never like this. There was always something-music blasting from a car, people arguing outside, someone yelling down the block. Even at night, it never really went quiet.
Here?
Nothing.
Even knowing there were guards outside, I felt safe. Too safe. Like nothing bad could touch me in this place.
I was naked under the duvet, warm, floating, when-
BZZZZ. BZZZZ. BZZZZ.
My eyes flew open.
"Oh shit," I whispered, heart jumping.
The sound felt obnoxiously loud in the massive room. I scrambled under the blanket, trying to remember where I'd even put my phone. Earlier-when Dominic had fucked me hard-I'd completely stopped functioning.
Bag? Gone.
Phone? Missing.
Brain? Nonexistent
I leaned over the edge of the bed and spotted my beat-up bag sitting on the expensive carpet like it didn't belong there. I grabbed it, unzipped it fast, and pulled out my cracked iPhone just as it started vibrating again.
Lila💕- FaceTime
Fuck.
I hesitated for half a second-then answered.
The connection was trash, like always. Pixelated. Lagging. The apartment Wi-Fi on their end struggling.
Then my face cleared.
"RAVEN!" Lila yelled. "WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN? IT'S TEN!"
Jamie's voice came from somewhere behind her. "You were supposed to be home hours ago!"
"I'm fine," I said quickly, sitting up a little. "I just-"
Lila stopped mid-rant.
Her eyes narrowed.
"...Why does your screen look weird?"
I frowned. "What?"
She leaned closer to the phone. "Why is there a TV in the ceiling?"
My stomach flipped.
"It's not a TV," I said automatically.
"Raven," she said slowly.
I swallowed. "It's just... the sky."
Silence.
Jamie leaned into frame. "The sky?"
"Yes," I said, already knowing this sounded insane. "Like-glass. You can see outside."
They stared at me.
Lila's voice dropped. "Raven... where are you?"
Because where we lived, the ceiling was stained. Cracked. Peeling. You didn't see the sky through it.
"I just-ended up somewhere else," I said weakly.
"Somewhere where?" Lila pressed. "Because it's ten o'clock, Raven. You should've been back by now."
I opened my mouth to lie.
Then-
The door opened.
Footsteps.
A presence.
"I've got work to finish in the office if-"
The voice stopped.
Deep. Male. Calm.
The air left my lungs.
On the screen, both of them froze.
Lila's eyes went wide.
Jamie's mouth fell open.
Neither of them spoke-but I could see it all over their faces.
They knew.
Lila whispered, barely audible, "Raven..."
The man behind me didn't say another word. I could feel him there. Could feel his eyes on me.
Jamie swallowed hard. "Who... was that?"
I squeezed my eyes shut for a second.
The mattress dipped slightly as Dominic leaned against the massive bed behind me, close enough that warmth spread down my back. My spine went stiff.
"Raven," Lila said sharply through the screen. "Who is that."
Before I could answer, Dominic bent down.
And pecked my lips.
Just once.
Soft. Casual. Familiar.
Like it was the most normal thing in the world.
My entire face went hot.
"Oh my-" I whispered, pulling back instinctively, my hand flying to my mouth.
On the screen-
Chaos.
Lila screamed.
Jamie actually dropped the phone from Lila's hands for half a second before grabbing it again. "OH MY GOD."
They saw him then.
Really saw him.
His face.
The sharp jaw.
The tattoos covering his arms and stretching across his chest.
The sheer size of him compared to me, leaning there like he owned the space-like he owned me.
Dominic glanced at the phone, one brow lifting slightly.
A slow, knowing smirk curved his mouth.
"I'll be in the office," he said calmly, like my friends weren't actively losing their minds. "Don't stay up too late."
Then he straightened, turned, and walked out of the room-unbothered, unhurried-leaving the door open behind him.
Silence.
Then-
"RAVEN WHAT THE FUCK," Lila yelled.
Jamie's eyes were huge. "So y'all are together now???"
"No!" I said way too fast. "It's not like that."
Jamie crossed her arms, leaning closer to the screen. "Then what is it? Because yesterday you were very clear-you said you wouldn't. That you couldn't. Married. Wife. All that."
Lila's voice cut in, sharp and panicked.
"His wife is literally following him, Raven."
My stomach dropped.
I swallowed.
My grip tightened on the phone.
"Well," I said, heat crawling up my neck, "the marriage is... fake."
The second the words left my mouth, I knew how desperate they sounded.
Lila stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "Yes, Raven. You told us that. And you also told us you still weren't going to be with him."
"I'm not with him," I insisted, my chest tight, my voice too high. "I'm not."
Jamie raised an eyebrow. "Then what are you doing in his bed, in his mansion, getting kissed on FaceTime?"
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because there was no explanation that didn't sound insane.
Lila leaned closer, her voice dropping into something quieter.
More serious.
"Bitch," she said. "Do you want to die?"
My heart skipped.
"I'm serious," she continued. "That woman is not normal. Normal wives don't follow their husbands like that. They don't appear out of nowhere and stare at you like they're memorizing your face."
Jamie swallowed. "Your life is literally in danger, Raven."
My chest tightened.
"And now you're in his bed," Lila said. "His bed."
Her words echoed in my head.
His bed.
Not mine.
Not ours.
His.
"I don't know!" I snapped, finally breaking. "Okay? I don't know. It just-" My voice cracked. "It just feels so good. And it feels right. And I hate that."
Neither of them laughed.
That scared me more.
"But like I told you guys," I said weakly, trying to defend something I wasn't even sure I believed in anymore, "she doesn't live with him."
Jamie frowned. "That doesn't matter."
Lila shook her head slowly. "She doesn't have to live there to ruin your life."
Silence filled the space between us.
I exhaled, running a hand through my messy hair, then tilted the phone slightly, giving them a glimpse of the room.
The massive black bed.
The clean, empty walls.
The couch that looked bigger than our entire living room.
Jamie squinted. "Raven... this room alone costs more than our whole neighborhood."
Lila muttered, "Why does he live like a vampire king."
I huffed out a weak laugh despite myself.
Jamie shook her head slowly. "Bestie. You are in deep."
I nodded, staring up at the skylight-stars staring back at me like witnesses.
"I know," I whispered.
Then Lila's voice sharpened. "We're waiting for you. And you better have a great explanation when you get home."
I huffed out a weak laugh despite myself.
After we hung up, the room felt too quiet.
Too big.
I lay back against the pillows, staring up at the skylight again-realizing it wasn't a TV, wasn't a dream, wasn't something I could just laugh off later. The stars were sharp tonight, clear in a way I never saw from my apartment. No sirens. No bass shaking the walls. No people yelling outside.
Just... silence.
I hugged the duvet closer to my chest.
Jamie's words replayed in my head.
You are in deep.
I swallowed.
I didn't even hear him come back at first.
Only noticed when the light near the doorway dimmed-softened.
I turned my head.
Dominic stood there, gray sweats low on his hips, bare chest. Tattoos inked across his skin like they belonged there-like this mansion was built around him.
He took one look at my face and stopped.
"What did they say," he asked.
Not angry.
Not teasing.
Careful.
I hesitated, then shrugged. "They think I'm insane."
A corner of his mouth lifted. "They're not wrong."
I snorted despite myself.
He walked in, slower this time, like he was giving me space. Sat on the edge of the bed instead of looming over me. The mattress dipped and I felt it everywhere.
"You don't have to stay," he said quietly. "If you want me to call you a driver-"
"No," I said immediately.
Too fast.
His eyes flicked to mine.
I looked away. "I just... I don't want to go back yet."
Something unreadable passed over his face. Satisfaction. Relief. Possession. Maybe all three.
He leaned back on his hands. "Then don't."
The simplicity of it almost hurt.
I traced a seam in the duvet with my finger. "You know this is going to end badly."
He turned his head, studying me. "For who."
"For me," I said.
That made him go still.
"You think I'd let that happen?" he asked.
I let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "My friends already think I'm losing my mind. And now they know... they know your wife is following you, that my life could be in danger, and I'm here, in your bed-"
A dark chuckle escaped him. "She doesn't have me," he said lightly, almost amused. "She's fake. Everything about her is performance. The moment you think you need to fear her... you've already lost."
I swallowed hard.
His gaze didn't soften. It sharpened. Possessive. Dominant. Endless.
"That's because you're still thinking like this is something that's happening to you," he said calmly. "It isn't."
My fingers curled into the fabric. "Then what is it?"
He leaned closer-not crowding, not touching-just enough that I felt the heat of him again.
"It's something I'm allowing," he said. "And something I don't lose control of."
My breath hitched.
He reached out then-not to grab, not to pull-just brushed his knuckles against my wrist, grounding and possessive all at once.
"You're married," I whispered again, like saying it louder might change the truth.
"And you work for me," he finished evenly. "Which means you know exactly how careful I am with what's mine."
My chest tightened.
"That's not comforting," I said.
"It's honest."
Silence settled between us again-thick, dangerous, intimate.
Finally, he stood. "Sleep."
I blinked. "That's it?"
"For now," he said, turning toward the door. Then, over his shoulder, softer: "You're safe here, Raven. No one touches what's mine without permission."
The door closed behind him.
I lay there long after, staring at the skylight, my body warm, my heart loud.
I should've been scared.
I should've been running.
Instead, I pulled the duvet tighter and let myself drift-knowing damn well this wasn't a place people like me stayed in without paying for it later.
★ ⋆｡°✩ ★
I stirred in my sleep, my body aching in places I never knew could ache. The night had been intense-more than I could handle. Dominic had taken me, ruined me, possessed me so thoroughly that I still felt the ghost of his touch on my skin. My legs trembled even as I lay still, my body sore from how rough he had been. He didn't just fuck me. He devoured me, claimed me, made sure I would feel him even in my dreams.
And I did.
But something felt off.
The warmth that had been there earlier, the solid presence of his body against mine, was gone. I reached out instinctively, my fingers grazing over the sheets where he had been. Cold. My brows furrowed as my eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the darkness of the massive bedroom. The mansion was silent, save for the faint sound of rain hitting the skylight above.
I slowly sat up, the silk sheets sliding down my bare skin, exposing me to the cold air. A shiver ran through me as I wrapped my arms around myself, scanning the room. The storm outside was growing stronger, the rain hammering against the glass as if the sky itself was restless.
Where was he?
My gaze fell to the floor beside the bed, where a black shirt lay crumpled. Dominic's. I reached for it, lifting it to my face, inhaling the lingering scent of his cologne. It smelled like him-intoxicating, masculine, expensive. I slipped it over my head, the fabric swallowing me whole. It barely did anything to warm me, but it was better than nothing.
I pushed the covers aside and slid out of bed, my bare feet pressing against the cool hardwood floor. The mansion was huge, the vast space making his absence feel even heavier. The cold air bit at my skin, sending another shiver down my spine. Something was open. A door? A window? It was too cold for it not to be.
As I padded forward, the chill in the air intensified, making my breath hitch. The bedroom was dimly lit, the city's glow casting soft shadows across the room. My heart pounded in my chest as I walked toward the source of the cold, my steps light but quick.
Then I saw him.
Dominic stood on the Mansion's luxury balcony, leaning against the glass railing, facing the vast city skyline. His broad, muscular back was illuminated by the faint city lights, his powerful frame clad in nothing but a pair of black boxers. The sight of him sent a pulse of heat through my veins despite the freezing air.
But it wasn't just the sight of him that made my stomach tighten. It was what he was doing.
A cigarette dangled between his fingers, glowing faintly as he took a slow drag.
I stopped in my tracks, my breath catching. I had never seen him smoke before. Not once. In the two weeks I had known him-worked for him, fought against the pull he had on me-I had never seen him do this.
He exhaled, the smoke curling into the air, mixing with the misty rain that fell around him. He looked... different. Not just the usual ruthless, dominant, intimidating boss I had come to know. There was something heavier about him tonight. Something weighing on him, something I didn't understand.
I hesitated for only a moment before stepping out onto the balcony, the cold instantly wrapping around me like ice. The rain had slowed to a soft drizzle, but the wind made it feel worse. My bare legs prickled as I walked toward him, the oversized shirt barely reaching my thighs.
He didn't move.
Didn't even acknowledge my presence.
I stopped behind him, my heart thudding painfully against my ribs. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight as he stared out at the city. He looked untouchable. Unreachable.
I couldn't stand it.
Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him from behind, pressing my cheek against his warm, bare back. He was burning hot despite the cold, his skin like fire against my freezing body.
He tensed immediately.
For a second, he didn't react-didn't breathe, didn't move. But then, after what felt like forever, he let out a slow exhale, his free hand coming down to rest over mine, gripping it tightly.
Neither of us spoke.
I just held him. And he let me.
His body was scorching hot against mine, his warmth the only thing keeping me from freezing. The silk of his skin pressed against my cheek, the steady rise and fall of his chest hypnotizing. For a moment, neither of us moved, just standing there in the icy wind, the city stretching out before us like an endless abyss.
Then, the smell of smoke hit me again.
I wrinkled my nose, pulling back slightly, my hands still resting on his toned stomach. "You smoke?" My voice was softer than I intended, but there was something unsettling about seeing him like this.
His fingers flicked the cigarette, sending ash tumbling into the wind. "No."
I frowned. Then I remembered the day I was in his office for the interview-there had been a small table with a gunmetal-black ashtray and a silver lighter engraved with something I couldn't read. The faint smell of smoke still clung to the air.
I blinked. "Then why are you doing it now?"
Silence.
The wind howled through the night, lifting the hem of his shirt that barely covered my thighs. The cold should have been unbearable, but his heat made me forget about it.
He finally exhaled, his breath mixing with the smoke. "Because sometimes, I need to feel like I have control over something-even if it's killing me."
The way he said it-so detached, so emotionless-made my chest tighten. I didn't like it. I didn't like that he sounded like this.
I reached up, my fingers brushing over his forearm, tracing the veins that ran beneath his skin. "I don't like it."
He finally turned around, towering over me, his sharp, intoxicating gaze locking onto mine.
His presence was suffocating, his broad, chiseled frame making me feel impossibly small. The light rain caught in his dark hair, making it glisten, and his bare chest was rising and falling steadily, his muscles flexing with every breath.
His lips parted slightly, his expression unreadable. Then he spoke, voice deep and low, sending a shiver down my spine.
"You don't like me smoking?" He took a step closer. "Then maybe you should be the one to keep my mouth busy."
My stomach twisted, my breath catching in my throat.
God, why did he have to say things like that?
Before I could even process his words, his hands were on me-hot, firm, and demanding. One hand gripped my ass, fingers digging into the flesh like he owned it, while the other slid under the hem of his shirt that I wore, his rough palm skimming over my bare skin.
I had nothing underneath.
No panties. Just his shirt.
His nostrils flared slightly as he realized, and a dark smirk pulled at his lips. "You walked out here like this?" His voice was laced with something dangerous, something wicked.
I swallowed hard, but I couldn't answer.
Not when his rock-hard body was pressed against mine, his heat drowning out the cold, his scent overwhelming every single one of my senses.
He was so big. So impossibly big.
I barely reached his chest, my body feeling so fragile in his grasp, but the way he touched me, the way his fingers dug into my flesh, made it clear that he wasn't thinking about fragility.
I tilted my head up to look at him, my lips parting as I tried to find my voice. "Dominic-"
I never got the chance to finish.
He gripped me under my armpits and lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing. Like I was a goddamn doll in his hands. A baby.
A gasp left my lips as my legs dangled in the air, my body pressed against his. His strength, his sheer dominance, made my head spin.
"Too fucking small," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head like I was some kind of problem he needed to deal with.
I clung to his shoulders, my fingers digging into his skin as he turned on his heel, stepping back inside the mansion and shutting the balcony doors behind us. The moment the cold was shut out, all I could feel was him. His heat. His power. His overwhelming presence.
He walked toward the bed, still carrying me effortlessly, his grip unrelenting.
I was too stunned to speak, too turned on to think.
He walked toward the bed, still carrying me effortlessly.
Dominic laid me down like I was nothing-like I weighed absolutely nothing to him. His body was still hovering over mine, his powerful frame blocking out everything else, like he was the only thing that existed in this moment.
And maybe he was.
I swallowed hard, my breath shallow as I looked up at him. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes... his eyes burned with something dark. Something that made my stomach twist into knots.
I was completely bare beneath his shirt.
And he knew it.
His large, rough hands slid down my thighs, his fingers spreading over my skin as if he were memorizing every inch of me. His touch was possessive, demanding, like he was making sure I knew exactly who I belonged to.
"You shouldn't have come out there dressed like this," he murmured, his voice deep and husky. "You knew what you were doing, didn't you?"
I shook my head quickly, but I could barely think, let alone speak.
Dominic chuckled, low and sinful, before gripping my jaw with one hand, forcing me to look at him. "Lying doesn't suit you, baby." His thumb brushed over my lips, parting them slightly. "You wanted my attention."
I didn't respond. I couldn't.
Not when his free hand trailed down between my legs, his fingers teasing, barely touching, making my body tremble.
"Dominic-"
He silenced me with a squeeze to my thigh, his touch rough, firm. "You don't like me smoking?" He leaned in, his breath hot against my cheek. "Then do something about it."
God.
The way he said it. The way he made it sound like a challenge, like a demand. Like he was daring me to take control when we both knew-knew damn well-that control wasn't something he gave up easily.
I bit my lip, my heart hammering in my chest as I reached up, threading my fingers through his damp hair. He was still warm from the shower he'd taken before bed, but the scent of rain clung to him, mixing with his cologne, making my head spin.
"Dominic," I whispered, pressing my lips against his jaw, feeling the way his muscles tensed under my touch.
His grip on my thighs tightened, his fingers sinking into my flesh as he let out a slow exhale.
"That's what I thought," he muttered.
Before I could process what he meant, he grabbed me again-flipped me over effortlessly, my chest pressing against the mattress as he loomed over me. His hand slid under the oversized shirt, gripping my ass possessively.
"You think you can tell me what to do, baby?" His voice was deep, teasing, but there was an edge to it. A warning.
I turned my head slightly, trying to catch my breath. "I just don't want you to smoke-"
"Then give me another reason not to," he interrupted, dragging his fingers slowly down my spine.
I shivered, my skin burning under his touch. He was too much. Too overwhelming.
And yet, I didn't want him to stop.
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