Emily's fingers shook as she scrolled through her phone. Every news notification felt like a blow to the chest.
"Billionaire Alexander Drake's Mystery Woman."
"Who is the Brunette Caught in Drake's Arms?"
"Drake's New Mistress Spotted at Elite Gala."
The photos were everywhere — her wrapped in Alexander's arms on the balcony, her laughing at something whispered during dinner, his hand resting on her lower back as they crossed the hotel lobby. Each image twisted into a story she had never agreed to tell.
"No, no, no," she whispered, collapsing onto the edge of the plush hotel bed. What had been a dreamlike suite hours ago now felt like a cage lined with gold.
Her phone buzzed again. This time it was Sarah, her roommate.
"Emily! You need to check the news! There are pictures of you with—"
"I know," Emily cut her off, her voice drained. "I've seen them."
"He's gorgeous, sure, but Em… the comments are brutal. They're calling you a gold-digger, saying you trapped him for money. Some of it's—awful."
Emily's stomach turned. She'd known Alexander's world came with danger, but not that it could swallow her whole overnight. "I have to get out of here."
She ended the call, sprang to her feet, and began tossing her few belongings into her small overnight bag. The designer gown from last night lay in a heap on the chair, mocking her for ever thinking she belonged in his orbit.
She had to leave now, before the damage spread further.
But when she grabbed the door handle and pulled, it didn't move. Frowning, she tried again, harder this time. Still nothing.
"Miss," came a deep voice from the hall. "Mr. Drake has asked that you remain in your suite for your safety."
Her blood ran cold. She recognized that voice — Marcus, one of Alexander's bodyguards.
"I'm sorry, but I need to leave," she called, forcing her tone steady.
"I can't allow that, miss. Mr. Drake's instructions."
Emily's fists clenched. How dare he? How dare Alexander lock her in like some captive? She spun around, scanning the room for another exit.
The balcony. Twenty floors up — but maybe she could signal someone—
"Looking for a way out?"
Her breath caught. Alexander stood in the doorway that connected their suites, a keycard still in his hand. He wore a charcoal suit, his dark hair immaculate, but his eyes carried a dangerous spark that rooted her to the spot.
"You locked me in," she accused, her voice trembling with fury.
"I protected you," he corrected, advancing with measured, predatory grace. "Do you realize what's happening outside? The paparazzi have surrounded the hotel. If you walked out that door, they'd shred you alive."
"So you decided for me?" Emily's voice rose. "You can't just lock me away because it's easier for you!"
His jaw tightened. "Easier? Emily, there are cameras camped outside your apartment. Your phone hasn't stopped ringing with reporters. Your face is plastered on half a dozen tabloids. Nothing about this is easy."
She swallowed hard, the truth in his words cutting deep — but so did the cage he had built around her. "This is why I don't belong in your world. Look at what one night has done!"
"You belonged to it the moment you stepped into that gala," he countered, closing the distance. "The moment you stood on that balcony with me. The moment you let me hold you on that dance floor."
"I didn't ask for this!" Her voice cracked, raw with fear. "I didn't ask to be branded as your mistress, to have strangers dissecting my life!"
"No," Alexander admitted, his voice softening for a beat. "You didn't. But it's done. And now we face it."
Emily shook her head, retreating until her back brushed the glass. "No, you face it. I'm leaving. I'm going home. I want my life back."
Something sharp flickered in his eyes. In two strides, he had her pinned against the window, his palms pressed to the glass on either side of her head.
"And how exactly do you plan that?" His tone was low, dangerous. "Do you think the cameras will forget? That I will?"
Her heart thundered. This close, she could smell his cologne, could see the faint flecks of amber in his gaze. She was terrified—and yet some traitorous part of her thrilled at it.
"Let me go, Alexander."
"No."
The word hit her like a strike. "What do you mean, no?"
His stare burned into hers. "I mean that you've turned my life inside out. That I can't stop thinking about you. That watching other men look at you makes me want to set the world on fire."
Her breath hitched. "Alexander—"
"You want to leave?" His lips brushed her ear as he leaned closer. "Then make me let you."
Her body betrayed her, heat flooding through her veins, desire clashing with fear. "This is insane. You're acting like you own me."
"Don't I?" The words were a whisper, but they rattled through her entire being.
"No," she whispered back, but the weakness in her voice betrayed her.
Alexander pulled back just enough to study her face. "Your pulse is racing. Your breathing is shallow. Your eyes are wide. Your body already knows the truth, even if your mind keeps fighting it."
"You can't just decide I'm yours," Emily said, clinging to defiance.
"Can't I?" His tone was smooth, merciless. "Tell me the truth, Emily. When I held you last night, when I silenced that ballroom with you in my arms—did it feel wrong?"
She couldn't answer. The truth was too dangerous. It had felt inevitable.
"When I kissed your hand," he murmured, "when I made every other man disappear — did you want me to stop?"
"That's not the point," she whispered, though her voice faltered.
"It's exactly the point." His thumb brushed her bottom lip. "You can fight me, you can try to run — but you can't escape what's already inside you."
The air between them hummed with tension, thick with something that felt like both a threat and a promise.
"If you really want to leave," Alexander said, his voice rougher now, "you'll have to make me let you."
Emily's chest rose and fell with ragged breaths as she searched his gaze. Beneath the polished billionaire facade, she glimpsed something raw, desperate — something fixated entirely on her.
He leaned in, closing the final sliver of space between them, his body pressing her back into the cool pane of glass. His eyes burned with a fire that threatened to consume them both.
"And I'm not going to."