“Ghost…” I start.
But I don’t get to finish.
His hand circles my throat so fast I don’t even get to blink once. I freeze instantly, like a deer in headlights. The entire space between us disappears in less than a second, and suddenly he’s right there — all heat and violence, close enough to burn me alive.
“Don’t call me that,” he spits through his teeth. His voice is a low, venom-laced whisper.
His fingers tighten, enough to remind me who’s in control. Who’s always been in control.
“What’s my name, Adora?”
My eyes go wide. There’s something feral in his expression. Wild. Unhinged.
“Dominic,” I whisper.
His eyes flutter closed, like I just gave him the answer to a question he’s been asking his entire life. Then he steps back. Lets go of my throat. Back to cold and casual, like he wasn’t one second away from losing his shit just a moment ago.
“We’re getting married. You’re giving me the five months. Then I let you go. That’s your only way out of this.” His voice is final. No cracks. No room to negotiate. He’s already decided.
I could fight it, but it would be pointless. His eyes say it all — he won’t bend on this. I’m fucked.
I try a little anyway. “No more dungeon? No more mind games?”
“No more dungeon,” he confirms with a small nod.
I take a deep breath.
Okay. I can do this. I’ve survived worse.
I’ll live in this expensive-as-fuck house with the only man I ever loved. The same man who wants to bury me in his very disturbing version of closure. What could possibly go wrong? It’s practically a vacation.
I owe him this, don’t I?
“Okay,” I breathe, eyes locked on his. “One condition, though,” I continue. “Stop having Liz followed.”
He grins, slow and victorious, and pulls a phone from his back pocket.
“Agreed. Text her. She messaged three days ago. I didn’t answer. Tell her you lost your phone, had to replace it.”
He places the phone in front of me like it’s no big deal.
“Disappearing messages,” he adds. “Secretive. Cute. I really thought you hadn’t talked to her in almost a year.”
He watches me closely, peeling layers off me with his gaze.
I give him a soft smile. “Why wouldn’t I talk to my sister?”
His head tilts, voice casual. Too casual. “Be careful what you tell her. Remember that I know people in Italy.”
The way he says it — like it’s the weather, not a threat — makes my stomach twist.
For one stupid moment, I forgot this is his revenge. I need to keep remembering that for the next five months. Every day. Every second. Keep my guard up for when the hammer drops. Because itwilldrop, I’m sure of it.
Immediately after I text Liz, a bone-deep exhaustion rolls over me.
“I need to sleep,” I whisper. “Just a little more.”
He nods, his face unreadable. I sway in the chair, dizzy with everything.
