6

Vivian's POV

If my life were a movie, I'd be cursing out the main lead, which was no other than myself. "You silly woman," I'd say. "Rule number one: never go to a second location with a stranger."

But Dorian defied all rules. His looks, his words, his sudden entrance into my life—everything about him was unconventional. And that stomach flip when he made that subtle threat? Unforgettable. He didn't quite threaten me, but close enough. "If I wanted you to come with me, you wouldn't be able to resist," he'd said.

Shivers ran down my spine. I should have bid him farewell right then. Nice meeting you, sailor, but I'm out. That's what a sensible woman would do. But I'm not sensible, apparently. I saw Dorian effortlessly toss out the real Brennan, and all I could think was,

How easily could he overpower me? I pressed myself against the car door, feeling a mix of anxiety and attraction. The scent of mahogany and exotic spices filled the air, making it hard to think straight. "Home," Dorian commanded, his deep voice making me jump.

The driver glanced in the rearview mirror, quickly looking away when our eyes met. We started moving, and I realized I was trapped. This was foolish. I was foolish. There was still time, though. We hadn't left the alley. I could ask the driver to stop or simply pull the handle and roll out. A few scrapes wouldn't be so bad at this speed.

"Having second thoughts?" Dorian murmured, his words sending shivers down my neck. I pressed harder against the door, feeling a sense of unease. "Yeah, but this dress is too expensive to risk ripping." I couldn't pretend to be calm; my thoughts were a jumbled mess. He was getting the unfiltered Vivian, for better or worse. "No risk of that," he said with a smile. "The doors are locked. I wouldn't want you to escape."

My heart skipped a beat. I was locked in. He had locked me in.

My fingers twitched towards the handle, tempted to verify his claim. But another part of me hesitated, fearing the truth. If I pulled the handle and it didn't budge, what then? I was no match for Dorian, as he had already pointed out.

"You can breathe," he said with a low, dark chuckle. I glanced over, and his smirk was illuminated by the yellow glow of the streetlights. "I was kidding about the doors. No need to check and accidentally fall out."

The driver accelerated into traffic, and I realized falling out now would be catastrophic. "Are you lying about the doors? Trying to calm me down?" He didn't take his eyes off me. "It wouldn't matter." "If I was calm?" "Or if you tried to jump out." His eyes glinted in the dim light, roaming over my body. "I gave you a choice. You chose to come with me. No need to chase you... is there?" I recalled his words: "I'm asking you to come with me, Vivian. Make things simple and just say yes." I was still trying to process how I ended up in this luxurious car with a mysterious, wealthy stranger.

My cousin, Gemma wouldn't believe this; she had to trick me into going on a date, and now... I was torn between fear and attraction. Is "both" a valid answer? I shifted away from the door, and my hand fell onto the leather seat. "I'm not going anywhere." Dorian suddenly pulled me closer, his hand curving around my hip. I was enveloped in his scent, his eyes inches from mine. I was shaking, but I managed a witty remark.

"Is it hard, carrying all that humility? You must be exhausted." "You don't know the meaning of the word." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, a gentle gesture that caught me off guard. "Not yet." I was grateful for the darkness, hiding the flush rising up my neck. "Is there a sad woman waiting for you back at the restaurant?" He raised an eyebrow. "What?" "I should have asked this earlier," I said, struggling to think clearly under his intense gaze. "You weren't at the restaurant for me, and you're not Brennan. So, why were you there?"

His expression turned guarded, his eyes flattening, and his jaw tensing. "For dinner," he replied curtly. "Alone?" I asked, shaking my head. "Never mind. I'm just confused about how this is happening." "What do you think is happening?" he asked, his voice low and mysterious. I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud—a one-night stand with the most attractive man I've ever seen. "I'm just glad you were at the restaurant tonight," I said instead. Dorian's gaze lingered on me, his eyes distant, before he moved in closer. I panicked, thinking I should escape, but his lips met mine, and suddenly, kissing him was the only thing I wanted. His hand slid from my hip to my waist, and I angled closer, my knee slipping over his thigh. I wasn't the kind of woman who straddled men in cars, but for Dorian, I might be.

He sucked on my lower lip, and I moaned, pressing closer, feeling heat through his shirt. I stroked his chest and stomach, hesitating, waiting for a sign to go further. The world narrowed to this moment, just me and Dorian, until the car jolted slightly, and reality intruded. I jerked back, my face flushing with a mix of desire and embarrassment. I checked the rearview mirror, relieved to see the driver's eyes on the road. I'd forgotten we weren't alone. How much had he seen? How much had he heard? Dorian whispered in my ear, "Don't worry, promień. He's seen worse." I wasn't reassured.

The rest of the ride was silent, with me a bundle of anxiety and restless energy, while Dorian exuded calm. I tried not to think about how often he must do this to be so comfortable. The car pulled into a long driveway, and I gasped at the mansion ahead. "What is that?" I asked, awestruck. The windows glowed with warm light, three stories high. "Most people call it a house," Dorian replied with a smirk. "Not my people. My people would call it a castle," I said, eyes fixed on the grandeur. "Does that make me a royalty?" he asked, amusement sparkling in his eyes. I turned to him, mouth agape. "This is your house?"

"According to you, it's my castle." I was serious, but he was still smiling. The mansion loomed larger, and I was still staring when the car stopped. Dorian got out, and I took his hand, feeling a jolt as he pulled me out of the car. I started to thank the driver, but Dorian closed the door, and he drove off. Alone in front of the mansion, I realized something idiotic. "I forgot my car! I left it at the restaurant." "Adrian will retrieve it in the morning," Dorian said, heading for the door. My feet stayed glued to the cement. In the morning. He thought I wouldn't need my car until then. Because I'd be staying here. The pieces clicked together, and I realized Dorian's intention. He wanted me to stay, to sleep here. I remained frozen in the driveway as Dorian reached the front porch and turned back to face me. "You'll find it's a lot more comfortable inside," he said with a hint of amusement. I highly doubted that. Comfortable was my solo routine, lounging in my apartment with a good book. Comfortable would've been ditching that disastrous date, grabbing a stale donut from the corner gas station, and dozing off with a novel in hand. Nothing about Dorian screamed comfort. Yet, I forced myself to move, peeling my feet off the pavement to follow him. Comfort could wait; curiosity and a thrill of excitement propelled me forward.