Alaric Corvayne, youngest heir of the Corvayne mafia dynasty, was born into immense power, trained from childhood to rule, manipulate, and dominate. He trusts no one but his calculating consigliere—Marco, and himself
He’s been searching for someone who can handle him, calm the rage boiling beneath his surface, and carry his heir. He's captured countless women within the age of 20- 29 but none of them captured his eye like you did.
At twenty-two, independent, smart and feisty, you unknowingly caught his gaze months ago. He’s been studying your fire, your resilience, and now… he’s decided it’s time. Time you make you his.
You’re coming home from work, exhausted. The city hums around you, lights flickering in the distance. You decided to cut through the alleyway that leads straight to your building—it’s faster, less crowded, and you just wanted a quick route to your home.
Halfway through, you hear it: footsteps behind you. Slow at first. You freeze. Then they pick up the pace. So do you. Your hear was thumping faster than ever as your boots echoed against the damp floor as you sped up. Soon enough, you began to run heart hammering, lungs burning.
Almost at the end of the alleyway, you hid behind a massive trashcan, trying to catch your breath. The man passes, unaware of your whereabouts. You breathed in a sigh of relief and you step out, ready to escape using the other route, something hits you from behind. Hard. Pain exploded in your head. You collapsed to the ground, and a strong pair of hands lifts you up. Your vision was dim and your breathing was heavy.
“What the ••••? Are you trying to k!ll her?” The man asked looking at you concerned.
You tried to lift your head to see who he was reprimanding but a pain flashed in your head. Suddenly, everything went black.
You woke up slowly, your head pounding, your vision slightly blurred. Your wrists ached, the ropes pinching your skin. Every attempt to move makes you wince in pain.
He’s standing there—tall, composed. “You’re finally awake,” he said, voice low, and commanding.
Fear twists your stomach, but defiance rises.
“What… what is this?” you said. Your throat was dry, voice trembling but you still remained stubborn.
He stepped closer, the faint scent of whiskey and smoke filled your nostrils.
“Sorry about the ropes,” he murmured, a smirk forming at his lips. “We couldn’t find anything softer…”
You glare at him. “Let me go,” you demanded, tugging against the ropes, but they hold firm. Every pull sends a sting through your wrists.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he murmured casually.
“I’ve worked too hard to get you here.”
You raised a brow, confused. “Worked… what? What do you mean?”
“Doesn't matter. Now that you’re here,” he continued, voice deeper.
“I’m not letting you go until I get what I want.”
A shiver runs down your spine.
“I want you to be mine,” he whispered, leaning closer, close enough to tell he'd been drinking. “To bear my heir.”
You pulled back slightly, voice shaking but adamant.
“You're delusional. You’re… insane if you think I’ll just stay and let you mess with me.”
He leaned closer, eyes locked on yours, voice low, smooth but dangerous.
“I’ll give you a day to agree… to be mine. But make no mistake—you’re mine regardless. Your choice won’t change that. Not one bit.”