“Persephone,” I said softly, almost tenderly despite the hard truth lacing my words. “This is your new life.”
I reached the building and pulled up to the valet.
"Don't even think about it," I murmured to her just as the valet opened her door.
She didn't run.
I grabbed her wrist and led her inside. The bellhop nodded politely. I maneuvered to the elevator and pressed the top floor. She hadn't said a word. I was almost… disappointed.
The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped into my penthouse, the soft hum of the machinery fading as I turned to look at her. The entryway boasted sleek lines and a minimalist design that spoke of modern luxury—a far cry from the life I could have had under my father’s thumb. Instead of succumbing to his demands, I’d carved my own path through the ice, earning every dollar on the rink while he watched in disappointment.
The penthouse stretched out before us, floor-to-ceiling windows framing a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The dim light cast shadows across polished hardwood floors and a few select pieces of art that punctuated the walls.
I stepped aside to let her enter, and she hesitated at the threshold. Her eyes darted around the spacious living area as if assessing a battlefield.
“Welcome home,” I said with a hint of amusement as I let the door close behind us, locking it with a satisfying click.
The scent of leather mingled with faint notes of cedar from a nearby shelf lined with books—titles that hinted at my interests outside hockey. The furniture was sharp and angular, yet comfortable enough for me to entertain guests or spend evenings alone with my thoughts. A large sectional sofa dominated one corner, positioned for optimal viewing of the city below.
Persephone stood rigid near the entrance, arms crossed tightly against her chest as if shielding herself from this new reality. She refused to sit or make herself comfortable in what was now her home—her stubbornness only fueled my enjoyment.
“You can relax,” I said, letting my voice drawl lazily as I moved toward her. “No one’s going to bite you here. Well. Maybe. I have a feeling you like it rough."
Her glare cut through me like ice shards; she wasn’t going to give an inch. It was almost charming how fiercely she resisted everything about this place—even me.
I leaned back against a polished granite counter in the kitchen area, watching her intently. The challenge she presented ignited something inside me—a primal urge to conquer whatever defiance lingered within her.
“Do you really think standing there is going to change anything?” I asked, taking pleasure in her rigid stance as if it were some kind of game between us.
Silence hung between us like tension on a string pulled taut, waiting for someone to snap it first.
“Go on, try to leave.” The words slipped from my lips with an easy confidence that belied the tension crackling in the air between us.
She hesitated, and I saw the realization flicker in her eyes.
Because she knew the truth. She had nowhere to go.
I moved closer, closing the distance until she was backed against the wall. The cool surface pressed against her spine as I stepped into her space, towering over her with an imposing presence.
“You’ll learn, Persephone.” My voice lowered, a whisper just for her. “You’ll stop fighting me.”
Her breath quickened, defiance flaring in those bright green eyes. But beneath that fiery exterior lay something deeper—an inkling of acceptance creeping into her expression. I could almost taste it; it hung heavy in the air.
“And when you do?” I brushed my fingers along her jawline, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my touch—a brief caress that sent a shiver through both of us. Her gaze flickered, caught between anger and something else I couldn’t quite name. “You’ll realize this was always meant to happen.”
Her pulse quickened beneath my fingertips, and I savored every moment as I held her gaze captive. The walls pulsed with unspoken tension—each heartbeat a reminder of our entwined fates.
I had crafted this reality with careful precision, and now she stood at its center, a beautiful puzzle piece that fit perfectly into my grand design. Her defiance made me hungry for more; it fueled the fire inside me.
“Don’t pretend you’re stronger than this,” I murmured, leaning in closer until our breaths mingled in the narrow space between us. “This is bigger than you or me.”
A flicker of fear darted across her face, but it was gone before she could fully process it—a fleeting moment buried beneath layers of stubborn resolve.
“Stop acting like you own me,” she shot back defiantly.
I smiled then, relishing the challenge she presented. “In time, you’ll understand your place.”
The heat radiating from her body only heightened my anticipation; every spark ignited a primal instinct within me—the need to possess what others deemed unattainable.
