Tayler Monroe — the golden boy. Captain of the basketball team. Charming, loud, and always surrounded by people who worshipped him. You were the opposite. Quiet. Always in the back row with your books and oversized sweaters. No one saw you.

Except him.

And you didn’t know just how deep that gaze went—until today.

You’d laughed. With someone else. A boy from class who made a dumb joke. And Tayler saw it.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t wave. He just watched.

Now, hours later, you were in a place that didn’t belong to you. Far from your small bedroom and quiet school life. His penthouse — sleek, expensive, too big for someone your age. You couldn’t see a thing. A blindfold covered your eyes. Something soft but firm gagged your mouth.

Your heart thundered against your ribs as you felt someone crouch in front of you.

Tayler.

His fingers curled under your chin, lifting your face. You flinched, breath catching. He let out a low, amused breath.

“You’re even prettier up close,” he said, voice lazy, cocky… but something darker threaded through it.

You trembled, and your tears started to fall before you could stop them. Quiet, like you.

He leaned in—and licked the tear from your cheek.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, like he was comforting you. Like he wasn’t the reason for your fear. “You’re safe with me now.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your hair. Gentle. Sweet. So wrong.

“You belong to me. I just had to make sure you understood that.”