Chapter Two

Damian and I stepped inside the massive mansion with his hand steady on the small of my back, and I gritted my teeth. The moment we arrived, all that burden of my past sunk me.

The towering ceilings. The giant chandelier shimmered like a thousand little stars. The click of the marble floors below our feet cost thousands.

Nothing had changed.

Except for me.

I was no longer that frightened little girl who used to live in that house, looking for a way out. Yet standing next to Damian, I still experienced that overwhelming sense of entrapment.

Leo’s little fingers gripped my dress tightly. I could feel how much he hesitated, how scared he was. I crouched next to him, smoothing his tangled brown curls from his face.

“It’s O.K., baby,” I murmured. “Mommy’s right here.”

His lip trembled. “I don’t like it here.”

Neither do I.

Before I could respond, Damian’s low voice sliced through the air. “You’ll get used to it.”

I shot him a glare. “He’s not staying here.”

His face was inscrutable, but the next words out of his mouth froze my blood.

“He is my son. He belongs here.”

My heart raced, and I sucked in a breath. “You can’t just decide that—”

“I can. And I have.” His voice was cold, final.

I was seething internally, but a woman’s shrill voice echoed in the grand foyer before I could do anything about it.

“Yes, sir. All rooms have been set up like you want them.

When I looked up, there was a middle-aged woman in a maid’s uniform. She looked at me, then Leo, and I could have sworn I saw a flash of compassion in her eyes.

Damian nodded. “Take the boy to his room.”

Panic surged through me. “No!” I grabbed Leo’s arm and pulled him close. “He stays with me.”

Damian’s jaw tightened. “He will have his own space. He’ll be taken care of.”

“I take care of him.”

He leaned forward, his body hovering over me. “There’s no option for you, Elena.”

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I would not let them out.

Leo was clutching me, trembling. “I want to stay with Mommy,” he said quietly.

Roan knew that Damian was trying to be patient because he inhaled sharply and rubbed his temple. Then he did something that took me by surprise. He knelt.

Right in front of Leo.

He turned to our boy, and his icy blue eyes softened just a little. “You’re safe here,” he said, even quieter than before. “No one will hurt you.”

Leo paused, looking up at me. I watched his eyes process uncertainty.

Damian was no longer some stranger to him. He was scary; would-be-remade-at-the-Oscars-is-more-than-that.

A father.

I inhaled shakily and slowly. “Let him pass the night with me. Please.”

Damian stared at me for a minute. And then, unexpectedly, he nodded. “One night.”

Relief washed over me.

But his subsequent comments sent another surge of dread crashing down.

“And then, he’s in my possession.”

I barely slept that night.

Leo nestled into my side on the huge bed; his tiny fingers clutched at my shirt as if I would flutter away if he loosened his hold. I stroked his hair when I gently pressed a kiss to his forehead, as if I could reassure us both that everything was going to be okay.

But we weren’t.

I wasn’t.

I thought I was free; i had spent the last five years running from Damian. That I had escaped him.

And now, I am back.

His threat hovered over me like dark clouds. After tonight, he’s mine.

I wouldn’t let that happen.

Leo was all that mattered now, and I had to protect him at all costs.

The sound of the bedroom door creaking open pulled me from my thoughts. As a tall figure entered, my heart raced and I went rigid. Even in the darkness, I spotted the broad shoulders, the assured stance.

Damian.

“What are you doing here?” I said, my voice clipped but low enough not to wake Leo.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he went to look out the window at a city of light.

Then he turned and looked at me with piercing blue eyes. “We need to talk.”

I scoffed. “Now? In the middle of the night?”

“Yes.” His voice was steady, but there had been something flickering across his expression — a thing that was hard to divine.

I gently unwrapped myself from Leo, wrapping the blanket around him and sliding out of bed. I followed Damian into the dimly lit hallway, my naked feet chilled on the marble floor.

The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I crossed my arms. “Tell us what we want to hear, then leave us the hell alone.”

Damian tilted his head to the side, looking me up and down as he always did, like he was trying to read my thoughts. “Why did you lie to him?”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “What?”

He stepped closer. “Leo. “Why did you tell (him) his father’s dead?”

I clenched my fists. “For, Damian, you were not meant to be in his life.”

His jaw tightened. “He is my son.”

“He is my son,” I shot back. “I carried him. I raised him. I protected him.”

He exhaled forcefully, running a hand through his hair. “You think I wouldn’t have defended him?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t get it, do you? I ran because of you. I knew what kind of a man you were.”

His face hardened, and for that moment I thought we shared a flicker in the eyes, something primal. But it was gone just as fast.

“You should’ve told me,” he said softly.

I swallowed hard. “And if I had? What would you have done?”

He didn’t answer.

Because both of us knew what was true.”

He would have never set me free.

And then there was silence between us, heavy with things unsaid. Then Damian leaned in even farther and lowered his voice. “Elena”, he says, “he deserves to know me.

My throat tightened. “And when you’re bored of playing father, what do you do?”

His eyes flashed. “I do not tire of what is mine, Sete.”

A shiver ran down my spine. “He’s not an object, Damian. He’s a child. He needs love, not control.”

There was something about the way he looked at me that shifted. “And you don’t think I’d be able to love him?”

I hesitated.

Damian was never a warm man. He was ruthless, cold, and dangerously intelligent.

But now that I was looking at him, I wasn’t certain.

He reached out for me, his fingers grazing my wrist. The touch was casual, nonexistent, but my heart leaped over it.

“I want to be in his life,” he said, his voice low. “And whether you like it or not, I’m going to be.”

My pulse pounded. “And if I fight you on this?”

His grip tightened slightly. “You won’t win.”

My breath hitched. The bad part was … I knew he was right.

Damian was NOT a man who lost.

His thumb traced my skin, and I hated how my body reacted — how my breath quickened, how heat wound my belly.

I jerked my arm away. “You do not control me, Damian.”

A slow smirk curled his lips. “We’ll see about that.”

Before I could say anything more, he leaned over. His breath was hot against my ear, his tone dangerously quiet.

“Go back to bed, sweetheart. You’re also going to need your rest.”

I felt a chill and wouldn’t provide him the satisfaction of letting him know how he had made me.

I turned around and tiptoed back into the bedroom, locking the door behind me.

But as I clambered back into bed next to Leo, my heart was still racing.

Because I knew, without a doubt, one thing.

Damian wasn’t letting us go.

And that was only the start.