Elena 's pulse thudded inside her throat like a secret drum. The bass of the nightclub rattled the air around her, but it was the sight of him—always him—that made her chest tighten until it was almost unbearable. Dominic Moretti. The man who ruled shadows, who carried violence like a second skin, who was never supposed to be within reach.But tonight, she wasn't here to simply watch. Tonight, she wasn't going to satisfy herself with stolen photographs and silent longing. Tonight, she would cross the line.Her plan had been reckless the moment she conceived it, a whisper she should have crushed before it grew teeth. Yet obsession thrived on recklessness, and Elena was far past the point of pretending she wanted anything else. She didn't just want to look at him. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to break her own rules, sink her nails into danger itself, and taste the forbidden.She slipped behind the bar's employee entrance like smoke, her small frame disappearing into the darkness. The bartender was an easy man—too easy. His guard was down, distracted by his phone, a lit cigarette dangling dangerously from his lips as he muttered something about the latest football match. He didn't even notice her shadow until it was too late.The syringe pricked his neck before he could speak. A carefully measured sedative, stolen from a black-market vendor, slipped into his bloodstream. His eyes widened in surprise, confusion flashing in them, before his body folded like paper. Elena caught him by the collar, lowering him gently to the floor.
"Sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the music pounding through the walls. "But tonight, I'm taking your place."
She dragged his unconscious body into the storage closet, stripping off his black vest and apron. It was a loose fit, but good enough. She tied her hair back, smoothing the strands into a ponytail. A dab of powder on her face, a tilt of her chin, and the dim neon lights of the club would do the rest.
Elena adjusted the apron, tugging it tighter, her heart hammering like a warning bell. She should be terrified. She was terrified. But fear was only gasoline, feeding the flames of her obsession.When she stepped behind the bar, blending in with the chaos of glasses clinking and bottles rattling, her gaze instantly sought him.
Dominic.
He sat at his usual spot—a leather-backed booth in the far corner, where shadows clung to him like loyal pets. His entourage surrounded him at first: men in tailored suits with watchful eyes, the kind of men who carried death in their jackets as casually as others carried wallets. But even among wolves, Dominic was different. He didn't just own the room. He devoured it.
The sharp cut of his jaw caught the light. His glacial gray eyes missed nothing. He moved with deliberate ease, a predator at rest but never harmless. Even seated, he radiated authority, his presence so heavy it bent the air around him.
Elena's breath caught. He was too much. Too powerful. Too untouchable.
And yet… tonight, he would be hers.
Her fingers brushed the small vial hidden beneath the bar. A liquid the color of temptation itself. She had spent weeks searching for it, buying it from a dealer who had whispered warnings in her ear about how dangerous it was. An aphrodisiac not meant for the faint-hearted. Strong enough to erode inhibitions, to make a man burn
Perfect for a king like Dominic Moretti.
The minutes bled slowly as she pretended to work, sliding drinks across the counter, flashing polite smiles to customers who never looked twice at her. But her eyes never left him. She watched as his entourage laughed, drank, smoked, the cloud of their presence filling the booth. She waited, nails digging into her palm, until at last, Dominic raised a single hand.
DismissalOne by one, his men obeyed, peeling away into the crowd until only he remained. The king at his throne, silent, patient, the weight of him a beacon Elena could no longer resist.
This was her chance.
Her hands trembled as she prepared his drink, the one she'd memorized from weeks of observation—single malt whiskey, neat, nothing else. Her fingers moved with precision as she poured, and when no one was watching, she tilted the vial.
The liquid swirled into the amber like a secret.
Her pulse was in her throat, her ears, everywhere. She slid the glass onto a tray, her footsteps measured as she approached his table. Each step felt like stepping closer to the edge of a cliff, but Elena had never wanted anything more than the fall.
"Your drink, sir," she murmured, disguising her voice, keeping her eyes low.
For one horrifying moment, she thought he would see through her—strip her disguise with a single glance. But Dominic barely looked at her, his gaze flicking over her once before returning to the drink.
He lifted the glass.
Elena's breath hitched as he swirled it, studying the whiskey as though he could read the secrets it held. Then, without hesitation, he brought it to his lips.
And drank.
Heat flooded her veins, heady and intoxicating. He was drinking it. He was swallowing the trap she'd laid with trembling fingers and reckless desire.
Elena stepped back into the shadows of the bar, her heart racing, her eyes locked on him. Any second now, she told herself. Any second, the potion would take hold. His pulse would quicken, his gaze would darken with hunger not even a king could control. He would want. He would burn. He would need.
And she would be the only answer.
Her lips parted as she clutched the bar's edge, watching, waiting, every second stretching into eternity. The music throbbed, bodies moved, the club continued around her, but Elena's world had narrowed to one man, one drink, one dangerous hope.
Dominic's throat flexed as he set the glass down. His lips lingered on the rim for half a second too long. His fingers drummed against the table once, twice, as though marking a rhythm only he could hear. Then he leaned back in his booth, his gaze lifting toward the bar...…Straight at her.
Elena froze, her heart crashing against her ribs. Did he know? Had he seen ????!!!
No. No, she told herself, forcing her hands to stay steady. He couldn't possibly know. He was just… reacting. The aphrodisiac was working. That had to be it. His stare was sharper, hungrier, the kind of look that promised danger and desire braided together.
A shiver rolled down her spine, not from fear this time, but anticipation.
It was happening.
She had finally done it....
Dominic Moretti's stare was a blade, cutting clean through smoke, noise, and bodies that filled the club. Elena couldn't breathe under the weight of it. She'd spent weeks watching him from a distance, but being on the receiving end of his focus was nothing like she imagined. It wasn't flattering. It wasn't romantic.
It was terrifying.Because his gaze didn't say, Who are you?It said, I already know.
Her throat tightened. The glass was still there on his table, rim kissed by his lips, liquid laced with her obsession. He should've been unraveling by now, fire curling in his blood, lust gnawing at him like hunger. Instead, he looked… calm. Too calm. His expression unreadable except for the faint curve tugging at the corner of his mouth.
A smirk.
He tapped two fingers against the table once—slow, deliberate. A signal.
Elena didn't have time to panic before one of his men appeared at her side. Where had he come from? She'd sworn he'd dismissed them all. The man leaned close enough for her to feel the weight of his shoulder, his breath brushing her ear.
"Boss wants you."
Her stomach dropped.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She'd planned on staying invisible, watching the aphrodisiac work from the shadows until Dominic inevitably left with the need burning inside him. Then, maybe, she'd follow him, slip into his world when he was weak, when he needed.Not this. Not being summoned directly to his table like prey.Her legs moved before her mind agreed, each step toward him heavy and light at the same time. People parted without realizing, instinctively clearing space around Dominic Moretti's throne. Even the music seemed to dull as she reached him, the atmosphere bending to his command.Up close, he was worse—infinitely worse. Power clung to him, seeped from his pores, draped across his broad shoulders in that fitted black suit. He didn't need to raise his voice, didn't need to move fast. Everything about him was patient, lethal, controlled.And Elena was about to find out if he had swallowed her trap… or if she had walked into his.
"Sit."
The command left no room for refusal.
She slid into the booth opposite him, trying to mask the tremor in her hands by resting them on her lap. Dominic leaned forward, elbows on the table, his eyes never leaving hers. They were the kind of gray that didn't just see. They dissected. They stripped.
"You've been watching me," he said. It wasn't a question.Elena's lips parted, but no sound came.His smirk deepened, slow and dangerous. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? You… staring from across the room, every night, like a moth too stupid to fear the flame."
Her pulse pounded so hard she thought he could hear it.
"You've been very clever," Dominic continued. His hand moved toward the glass, tilting it so the amber liquid caught the light. "Drugging my bartender. Slipping into his vest. Even remembering my drink of choice."
Elena's chest squeezed so tight it hurt. He knew. "You must've thought you were invisible," he said softly, almost amused. "But invisibility doesn't exist in my world. Every shadow reports back to me." He swirled the glass lazily, his eyes gleaming. "And still… you dared to lace this with something. Didn't you?"Elena's nails bit into her thigh. She couldn't move. Couldn't speak.
Dominic leaned back, spreading one arm across the booth as though he owned her silence as much as her voice. "The interesting thing is… I drank it anyway."
Her breath caught."And now," he murmured, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before snapping back to her eyes, sharp enough to pierce, "I'm curious. Did you mean to weaken me… or did you mean to surrender yourself?"
Heat flooded Elena's body. The aphrodisiac wasn't in her veins, but somehow, she was burning as if it were.Dominic's hand slid across the table, fingers brushing the rim of her water glass. He pushed it toward her. "Drink."
It wasn't a request.
Elena's throat tightened. "What—"
"Drink." His voice was low, dangerous, threaded with steel.She lifted the glass with shaky fingers, bringing it to her lips. Cold water touched her mouth, grounding her, but she couldn't shake the feeling she wasn't drinking water at all. She was drinking him—his command, his control, his claim.When she set the glass down, Dominic's fingers closed over her wrist. Warm, strong, immovable. His thumb pressed against her pulse, as though savoring the frantic beat beneath her skin."Here's what you don't understand, Elena."Her blood froze. He knew her name.
"I'm the one who decides what burns in my veins. Not you. Not your little vial." His eyes gleamed, cruel and intoxicating. "You wanted to play with poison. But poison only works when the prey has no teeth."He leaned closer, his breath brushing her cheek, his voice a whisper that cut deeper than any shout."And I promise you, little moth… the flame you've been circling isn't going to consume me." His lips curved into something dark. "It's going to consume you."
Elena's entire body trembled—not from fear alone, but from the dangerous thrill coiling inside her. She'd wanted to taste danger. She'd wanted him. And now, Dominic Moretti had turned her trap into a chain.
And she wasn't sure she wanted to escape.