Obsession: Web of desire

Without her consent.

And now... she was in his house.

Alone.

Trapped in silk and secrets.

Suddenly, she sensed him before she saw him.

A heat behind her.

A scent-woodsmoke and something darker.

Aarav.

She turned, sharply.

He was standing in the shadows, black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled, veins prominent on his forearms. A gun holster peeked from beneath his jacket. He didn't look like a businessman tonight.

He looked like danger incarnate.

"A midnight walk, mia cara?" His voice was low, wicked. "Or were you trying to run?"

Her pulse raced. "You have no right-"

He closed the distance, slow and deliberate, fingers brushing her waist as he passed behind her. She tensed.

"Careful," he murmured, lips grazing her ear. "You're mine now. Every breath, every heartbeat... I own it."

"You're insane."

"Possibly," he whispered, "but only for you."

She turned to slap him-he caught her wrist mid-air, and in one fluid move, pinned it above her head against the cold stone wall. His body pressed close, heat pouring off him. Her chest heaved.

"You don't know what you've done," she hissed, defiant despite the spark of something else in her eyes-curiosity... attraction?

His free hand traced the bare skin at her waist, where her blouse had risen slightly.

"I know exactly what I've done," Aarav said, gaze smoldering. "I've started a fire I fully intend to burn in."

A phone buzzed in his pocket.

He didn't release her.

Instead, he slid it out, still pinning her, and read the screen.

His eyes darkened.

"You shouldn't be here alone, cara," he said, suddenly serious. "Not tonight."

"Why?"

He looked at her, eyes sharp.

"Because someone left a note outside your door." He pulled it from his pocket.

A single white envelope, no name.

She opened it with trembling fingers.

Just six words, scrawled in red ink:

"She dies the day you marry."