Chapter 45 – The Man Who Wants to Take Her

Leonidas Costa never ignored a threat.

He eliminated it.

Quickly. Efficiently. Without hesitation.

Yet, as he sat in his private office at Kosta Mansion, overlooking the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows, his mind was unsettled.

The letter from Victor Ralston sat on his desk, its black ink a taunt, a declaration of war.

Victor wasn't just an old enemy.

He was a ghost from a past Leonidas had already buried.

Or so he had thought.

And now, he wasn't attacking Costa Enterprises.

He was attacking Anastasia.

Leonidas' grip tightened on his glass of whiskey, the tension in his jaw sharp enough to crack steel.

Victor wanted to take her.

The problem?

Leonidas Costa did not share.

And he would burn the world down before he let anyone take what was his.

Anastasia Vasquez woke up alone in their bed.

Again.

Leonidas' side was cold, untouched since last night.

She wasn't surprised. Something had been off about him ever since that letter arrived.

Even though he hadn't said it, she felt the shift in him.

The way his touches had become rougher, more possessive—like he was afraid she would disappear.

Like he was afraid she would leave.

She sighed, stretching before slipping out of bed.

After freshening up, she walked down the grand staircase toward the dining room, where breakfast was already being served.

She sat down, the elegant dining table stretching too far for comfort.

Everything felt…unnatural.

Leonidas' absence felt heavy, and for the first time since moving into Kosta Mansion, she felt alone.

And then—

Her phone buzzed.

A new message.

From an unknown number.

"It's disappointing, isn't it? Living in a house that feels like a cage?"

Her heart skipped a beat.

She sat up straighter, her fingers tightening around her phone.

Another message arrived.

"You were meant for more than being Costa's latest fixation, Anastasia."

Her breath caught.

Who the hell was this?

And then—

"I would have treated you better. We should talk."

Sender: Victor Ralston.

3. The Contact That Changes Everything (Anastasia's POV – A Dangerous Decision)

Anastasia's pulse raced.

She glanced around the room, suddenly hyperaware of the silent guards stationed outside the dining hall.

How did he get her number?

She exhaled slowly, trying to push away the chill crawling up her spine.

This was the first time someone had tried to get to her—not through Leonidas, but directly.

And what scared her?

The words he had used.

"Cage."

Because, in some ways, he wasn't wrong.

Leonidas had built a fortress around her.

For protection. For security.

But also, in some ways, to keep her his.

And Victor knew it.

She hesitated, her fingers hovering over her screen.

She should delete the messages.

She should tell Leonidas immediately.

Instead, she did something reckless.

She typed a response.

"How did you get this number?"

Victor responded instantly.

"I know more about you than you think. But don't worry—I'm not the villain Leonidas wants me to be."

"Meet me, and I'll tell you everything."

Her heart pounded.

This was insane.

But something about the way Leonidas had refused to tell her more about Victor made her hesitate.

What was he hiding?

Leonidas was in the middle of a high-stakes corporate negotiation when his personal phone buzzed.

Incoming Call: The Head of His Security Team

His blood turned cold.

Leonidas rarely felt true, raw fury.

But when he listened to what his security team had discovered—he saw red.

Anastasia had barely taken a step into their bedroom when she felt it.

The tension.

The weight of something unspoken and dangerous.

Then she saw him.

Leonidas.

Standing by the window, his back to her, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

He didn't speak immediately.

Didn't turn.

But she could feel the storm brewing.

"Anastasia."

His voice was low. Controlled.

But something about it sent a shiver down her spine.

She swallowed. "Leonidas, what's wrong?"

He turned.

And when their eyes met—she forgot how to breathe.

His gaze was dark. Dangerous. Absolutely, possessively furious.

Then he took two slow, deliberate steps toward her.

Without thinking, she stepped back.

His jaw tightened.

"Why are you backing away from me?"

"I—" She hesitated, suddenly feeling cornered.

Then—he lifted his phone.

And there, on the screen, was her conversation with Victor Ralston.

The color drained from her face.

"You—" She gasped. "You went through my phone?"

Leonidas let out a low, humorless laugh.

"You think I wouldn't?" His voice was dangerously soft.

He stepped closer, closing the space between them.

"You think I wouldn't know the second another man tried to take what's mine?"

Anastasia inhaled sharply.

Leonidas reached out, his fingers brushing against her jaw, but his grip was anything but soft.

His thumb traced the corner of her lips.

His eyes—burning with something raw, possessive, dangerously close to obsession—never left hers.

"Tell me, Anastasia," he murmured.

"Were you actually going to meet him?"

She trembled.

She didn't have an answer.

And the silence was enough.

Leonidas' grip on her chin tightened slightly.

"You're mine, Anastasia." His voice was a promise, a warning, a vow.

"I don't care if the world tries to take you from me."

His lips brushed against her ear.

"I will always take you back."