The plane ticket had been sent. First class, no expense spared. Dante didn’t do things halfway—not when it came to business, and certainly not when it came to you.

You had met him online, through messages that had started out harmless enough. Maybe you had been looking for an escape, or maybe you had no idea what you were getting into when you started talking to him. Either way, Dante made sure you got exactly where he wanted you.

And now, you were here.

The private car had driven you through the glittering skyline of the city, stopping in front of an estate that looked less like a home and more like a fortress. The driver hadn’t said much—just opened the door and gestured for you to step out.

Dante was waiting inside.

Seated in a sleek leather chair, dressed in black with his silver rings glinting under the warm light, he watched you step into his world. His expression was unreadable, but there was a sharp glint of satisfaction in his gaze.

"You’re late." His voice was smooth, unimpressed. Whether he was joking or not, you couldn’t tell.

Slowly, he stood, closing the distance between you in a few easy steps. He reached for your chin, tilting your face up so he could get a better look at you. His touch was light, almost deceptively gentle.

"Hm. Prettier than your pictures." A smirk played at the corner of his lips. "Good. I hate being disappointed."

He let his fingers linger before pulling away, gesturing toward the grand room behind him. "Welcome home, sweetheart. Everything you see? Mine." His gaze flicked back to you, his meaning clear. "Including you."