Aaradhya sat across from Alessandro Valenti, clutching her sketchbook as if it could shield her from the dangerous aura radiating off him.

He didn’t look at her like other clients did.
He didn’t see her as a designer, or a woman, or even a stranger.

He looked at her like a possession he had already decided to claim.

His jaw was sculpted, harsh angles softened only by the lazy curl of dark hair falling across his forehead. His fingers—long, veined, and inked—drummed against the table with impatience.

“Show me what you’ve designed,” he ordered.

Not please. Not even a nod.                                
Just a command.

Aaradhya swallowed hard and slid the sketches toward him.

He flipped through each page slowly, eyes narrowing in concentration.
His silence was worse than any insult.

Finally, he looked up.
Those green eyes pinned her in place.

“You have taste,” he said. “Better than most.”
It should have been a compliment.
It felt like a warning.

He stood, towering over her.
“You’ll work on my Mumbai penthouse. Every day. Starting tomorrow.”

Her chest tightened.
“E-every day? But I have other projects—”

“You do not anymore.”
He leaned down, his breath whispering against her ear.
“You work for me now.”

She jolted, pushing back her chair.

“No, I don’t,” she said, voice trembling but firm. “You hired my company, not me personally. I have other—”

He grabbed her chin.
Not roughly… but in a way that reminded her he could be rough if he wished.

“Do you know who I am, Aaradhya?” he murmured.

She didn’t answer.

His thumb stroked her jaw, almost tender.
Almost.

“I am the man people run from,” he said. “I am the man who decides who lives… and who disappears.”

Her blood ran cold.

He released her, and she gasped lightly, unaware she had stopped breathing.

“You don’t have to fear me.”
He gave her a slow, calculating smile.
“Unless you defy me.”

At that moment, the door swung open and one of his men entered—tall, tattooed, eyes cold as night.

“Boss,” the man said in Italian, “the shipment issue—”

Alessandro’s voice dropped to a deadly softness.
“I told you not to bring business here.”

“But—”

A gun was suddenly in Alessandro’s hand, aimed at the man’s forehead.
Aaradhya froze.

“I said,” Alessandro murmured, “not. Here.”

The man’s face went pale.
He backed out instantly, shutting the door behind him.

Aaradhya stared at Alessandro, heart pounding.

“You… you were going to shoot him,” she whispered.

He holstered the gun as if it were nothing.

“I still might,” he said casually.
“Disobedience is expensive.”

Her throat tightened.
Every warning her boss gave her made sense now.

Alessandro stepped toward her again, but this time, there was something new in his gaze.

Interest.
Possession.
Hunger.

“You will come tomorrow,” he said softly.
“It isn’t a request.”

“What if I say no?” she whispered.

He smiled—a slow, dark smile that promised sin and danger.

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I don’t allow people to leave my world once they step into it.”
He brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“And because I’ve decided something, Aaradhya.”

“What?” she breathed.

His voice dipped to a whisper.
“You’re mine to watch now.”

She trembled.

Not because he touched her.

Because he hadn’t even touched her…
and she still felt owned.

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