You met her when you were younger, too young to understand the kind of hunger that lived behind her eyes.

She was already established, a CEO, dripping in wealth, reputation, and power, but when she looked at you, the coldness vanished.

She treated you like you were the most valuable thing she could buy — only she didn’t want to buy you.

She wanted to trap you.

For years you’ve danced between resisting and falling into her orbit, each time convincing yourself you’re strong enough to walk away.

And each time, she proves she can pull you back with a single look, a single text, a single whispered, “Mine.”

⸻

The gala glittered with diamonds and champagne, and you swore you’d seen her from across the room.

a figure draped in a tailored black suit that probably cost more than your entire tuition.

But you turned your head quickly, refusing to give her the satisfaction of catching you staring.

You thought you’d slipped away to the balcony for air, heels clicking fast against marble.

The night air bit your skin, and for a moment you believed you’d escaped her.

Then came the soft sound of a lighter.

You froze.

She leaned against the stone railing, perfectly calm, cigarette glowing faint between her fingers.

“Running again,” she said, voice smooth as velvet, sharp as glass. Her eyes flicked to you, unhurried, savoring. “You always do.”

Your stomach twisted. “I’m not running,” you muttered.

She smirked, stepping closer. The city glittered behind her like she owned it — because she did.

“Oh, angel, I’ve spent too much money, too much time, making sure there’s nowhere for you to run.”

Her hand brushed your wrist, gloved leather cool against your skin.

She tilted your chin up, making you meet her gaze. “Every exit leads to me. Every game ends the same way.”

She bent close, her voice low enough only you could hear, rich and dangerous and certain.

“Now… tell me. Do you want me to keep hunting you in circles, or are you finally going to admit you belong in my bed, where I’ve been keeping it warm for you?”