A DANCE WITH THE SHADOWS

The city shimmered beyond the glass windows, but Chloe barely noticed. The only thing she was aware of was Milan.

He was close, his presence wrapping around her like silk and steel, a dangerous combination. The penthouse was silent except for the distant hum of the city below, but the tension between them crackled like a live wire.

Milan stood before her, hands in his pockets, his eyes dark and unreadable. He had summoned her here tonight with a simple command, no explanation—just an address. And she had come, because she always did.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked, voice calm, almost lazy.

Chloe took a slow sip of wine, keeping her expression neutral. "Enlighten me."

His lips twitched. "I need to know where you stand, printsessa." He crouched in front of her, his fingers brushing over her knee before sliding up her thigh, slow and deliberate. "I need to know that you belong to me."

Chloe's breath caught, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. "You don't own me."

Milan chuckled, dark and low. "No?" His grip tightened on her thigh, sending a shiver through her. "Then why do you let me touch you?"

She should have pulled away. She should have set boundaries. But when Milan touched her, the world tilted, and logic unraveled.

"You handled that journalist well," he murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin. "But did you hesitate?"

Chloe lifted her chin. "No."

Milan's fingers stilled. "Liar."

Before she could react, he moved, pressing her back into the couch. His body covered hers, his scent—dark spice and something purely him—flooding her senses. One hand gripped her thigh, the other tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him.

"You think I don't see the war inside you?" he whispered, his lips a breath away from hers. "You want to resist me. But your body…" His hand slid higher, fingertips barely grazing the heat between her thighs. "Your body betrays you."

Chloe gasped softly, her nails digging into the couch. Milan's touch wasn't just a tease this time—it was a claim.

He leaned closer, his lips ghosting over hers. "Let me show you what it means to belong to me."

And then he kissed her.

Not a soft, hesitant kiss—but deep, consuming, designed to break her. His hand slid beneath her dress, fingers pressing against her, demanding a response.

Chloe moaned before she could stop herself, her body arching into his touch. She hated how easily he unraveled her, how effortlessly he drew out the pleasure she should have fought against.

Milan pulled back slightly, his breath warm against her lips. "Good girl." His fingers pressed deeper, coaxing another soft moan from her. "You feel that? That's surrender."

Chloe's nails dug into his arms, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

"I should make you beg," he murmured, dragging his lips down her throat. "Make you earn my touch." His teeth grazed her skin, sending shivers through her. "But not tonight."

Before she could process his words, he withdrew, leaving her breathless and aching.

Milan sat back, adjusting his cuffs like nothing had happened. "Loyalty isn't optional, printsessa." His voice was calm, but the heat in his gaze told her this was far from over. "Prove to me that I can trust you."

Chloe forced herself to sit up, her body still thrumming with the aftermath of his touch.

She had come here for a mission. To play a role. To trap him.

But tonight, it felt like she was the one being caught in his web.

And the worst part? She wasn't sure she wanted to escape.