Charm or not, he unsettled me. His gaze, his cadence, the way he edged into my space. Heat from the alcohol flushed through me, tangled with unease, as his hand drifted to my knee, my thigh, pulling back, then returning again. My head swam. Dread swelled with the dizziness.
“Not feeling well, Daisy?” His voice cut low, knowing. His hand slid back onto my thigh and stayed there. His thumb traced circles into my skin.
“I’m fine,” I lied, forcing steadiness. My nerves frayed. I needed space before it broke me, but my body felt heavy, pinned. Like a game I hadn’t agreed to play. This wasn’t flirting—It was pressure.A game I was already losing.
“Could I have some water, please?” My voice cracked.
Dominic leaned in, breath at my ear.
“Of course. But first—fresh air.” His hand pressed harder on my thigh, holding me in place.
“A bit of air would help,” I admitted.
He rose smoothly and pulled me up, his grip firm on my arm. He led me through the club to an elevator that carried us to the upper floor.
“There’s a terrace.”
He steered me into a dim lounge that opened onto a balcony. The night air cut cool against my skin, clearing my head, if only a little.
Moments later, Dominic returned with water.
“Better?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Silence stretched, the night pressing calm into me. But when we stepped back inside, Dominic sank onto the couch and dragged me down beside him. I stumbled, caught myself, only to feel him close in again. His knee brushed mine. His arm pressed against my back—unyielding.
“You really are a beautiful woman, Daisy,” he whispered, his hand sliding to the nape of my neck, fingers digging beneath my hair.
I shivered, panic tightening in my chest. Instinct screamed. I shot upright.
“We can go back downstairs now.”
He seized my arm and yanked me down hard onto the couch.
“I can think of something better.”
I tried to rise again. He leaned in, close, threatening.
His hand clamped on my shoulder, weight heavy, crushing.
“My rules apply here, Daisy,” he growled, voice low, his fingers already at his belt.
My heart slammed.
“I would disagree.”
The voice cut through the air like cold steel. Time slowed. I turned my head. Dominic froze. Damian Miller stood in the doorway.His steps were measured, almost soundless—the silence of a predator that knows the kill is already decided. His eyes fixed on Dominic, blades behind glass.
“Is everything all right, Miss Elfhorn?” His voice was calm. Too calm.
My mouth opened. Nothing came. I could only shake my head.
Dominic twisted his mouth into a crooked grin. “Damian, relax. We were just talking. Do me a favor and give us a little privacy.”
“She is not available to you,” Damian said evenly. “Miss Elfhorn works for me.”
“So what?” Dominic spat.
