The drive home was silent.
Isabella's fingers curled around the steering wheel, knuckles white as she tried to steady her breathing. The city lights blurred past, but her mind was elsewhere—stuck on the man who had ripped her out of the restaurant like he had every right to.
Her skin still burned where Ethan had touched her.
Her wrist. Her neck. Her cheek.
She hated it. Hated how easily he could unravel her.
But most of all, she hated how part of her wanted more.
With a frustrated sigh, she pulled into her apartment complex and parked. As she stepped out, she hesitated, scanning the quiet street. The paranoia hadn't faded since she left Ethan outside that restaurant. Every shadow, every flickering streetlight felt like a reminder that he was watching.
Because she knew he was.
Shaking the thought away, she hurried inside, locking the door behind her. The apartment was dark, the only light coming from the city skyline spilling through her windows. She kicked off her heels, tossed her purse onto the couch, and exhaled deeply.
She needed a shower. A distraction.
Something to make her forget Ethan Lancaster.
But as she made her way to the bathroom, a shiver ran down her spine. The unmistakable feeling of being watched settled over her.
Her heart pounded as she turned toward the large window near her balcony.
The curtains were open just enough for her to see out—and for someone to see in.
Slowly, she walked forward, pulse hammering. With trembling fingers, she yanked the curtain shut and stepped back.
Get a grip, Isabella.
Maybe she was just imagining things. Maybe the night had gotten to her.
Or maybe Ethan had finally pushed her past the point of paranoia.
Shaking her head, she turned on the shower, letting the hot water drown out her thoughts.
But as she stepped under the spray, she swore she heard something.
A creak.
Like someone was inside her apartment.
Her breath hitched.
She turned off the water instantly, listening. The sound of her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she reached for a towel, wrapping it around herself.
Then, another sound.
A slow, deliberate step.
She wasn't alone.
Her hands shook as she inched toward the bathroom door, pressing her ear against it. The apartment was silent now, but she could feel it—someone was there.
Summoning whatever courage she had left, she tightened her grip on the towel and yanked the door open.
Her apartment was dark, eerily still.
She stepped out cautiously, scanning the room. Nothing seemed out of place, but the air felt thick, charged.
And then—
A deep voice cut through the silence.
"You shouldn't have gone on that date."
She froze.
Her breath caught as she slowly turned, her pulse roaring in her ears.
Ethan stood near her living room window, dressed in dark slacks and a button-down, the top few buttons undone. His presence was overwhelming, dominating the space like he belonged there.
She should have screamed. Should have grabbed her phone and called the police.
But all she could do was stare, her mind struggling to process how he had even gotten in.
"W-What the hell are you doing in my apartment?" she finally managed to choke out.
Ethan didn't move. "Making sure you understand something."
Her skin prickled. "Understand what?"
His eyes, dark and unreadable, roamed over her damp figure. A slow smirk tugged at his lips, but there was no amusement in his gaze—only possession.
"You belong to me."
A cold shiver ran through her.
She forced herself to stand her ground, clutching the towel tighter. "I don't belong to you, Ethan. You can't just—"
"I can." His voice was dangerously soft, like a whispered threat. "And I will."
Her nails dug into her palm. "This is insane. You're insane. You broke into my apartment."
His lips twitched slightly. "You left your window unlocked."
Her stomach dropped.
Had she? She couldn't remember. But the thought that he had been watching her so closely—that he had known—made her blood run cold.
"This isn't normal," she whispered. "You can't just do this."
Ethan took a slow step closer. "And yet, here we are."
She swallowed, forcing herself to stay strong. "What do you want from me?"
His gaze darkened. "Everything."
A thick silence settled between them, the weight of his words pressing down on her.
Then, suddenly, he reached out.
Before she could react, his fingers brushed against her damp collarbone, tracing a slow path down her arm. It was such a simple touch, yet it ignited something dangerous inside her.
She should push him away. She should run.
But she didn't.
Because as much as she hated to admit it, there was something intoxicating about the way he looked at her. Like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
Like he would burn the world down just to have her.
"Why?" she breathed.
Ethan's fingers lingered against her skin before he finally pulled away, his expression unreadable.
"Because you were made for me, Isabella."
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her mind screaming at her to fight back. To resist.
But deep down, she knew it wouldn't matter.
Because Ethan Lancaster had already decided.
And Ethan always got what he wanted.
Even if it meant destroying everything in his path.