Chapter 4 ROOM 1703

She wasn't the kind of woman who caught the attention of dangerous men.

She was the kind that got passed over in hallways and forgotten in rooms. Invisible.

Until last night.

Eva sat on the edge of her bed, the envelope in her hand still open, the words on the card seared into her brain like a brand.

**"Curiosity is dangerous, Eva. But I like it."**

Her fingers trembled, but she wasn't sure if it was fear anymore.

He knew where she lived. That alone should've shattered every ounce of calm she had left. But it didn't. The card wasn't a warning.

It was a choice.

She could feel it like a knife pressed gently-not quite cutting, but close. A dare.

She checked the lock on her door for the fourth time and pulled the curtain aside just enough to look out again.

The black car was still there.

It hadn't moved.

He was watching. Or someone was. And somehow, that knowledge made her feel less alone than she had in weeks.

That was the part that scared her the most.

---

By midday, the car was gone. But the feeling wasn't.

She couldn't focus. She couldn't eat. She didn't call anyone. Who would believe her? Who could she trust?

No one.

She walked to the market around the corner, hoping the fresh air would reset her thoughts. It didn't. Her eyes flicked toward every passing stranger. Her breath hitched every time someone brushed too close. It felt like the world had shifted beneath her feet, and now she was living in a city full of ghosts and gunsmoke.

When she got back to her apartment, another envelope was waiting.

This time, taped to her door.

She snatched it down and locked the door behind her before opening it.

Inside: a key.

Attached to it, a note:

**"9 p.m. Room 1703. You're ready."**

That was it.

No name.

No threat.

Just the room number-and the implication that she had a choice.

She dropped the key on the counter like it burned her. But she didn't throw it away.

---

By 8:40 p.m., she was still staring at it.

Room 1703. The same building. The same tower.

She told herself she wouldn't go. She wasn't *that* girl.

But when the clock struck 8:59, she was in the elevator, the key clenched tight in her fist.

The doors opened with a soft *ding*, and she stepped into the hallway like she was stepping into a dream she shouldn't have had.

She found the door.

She hesitated.

And then, with a deep breath she'd regret taking, she slid the key into the lock.

It opened.

Dim lighting. Velvet shadows. A glass of wine already poured on the table. And him-

Dominic Moretti.

Standing at the window, his back to her, city lights painting him in gold.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," he said without turning.

"I wasn't sure either," she replied, voice steadier than she felt.

He turned then, eyes dragging over her slowly, like he already owned the air she breathed.

"But you did," he said, stepping toward her. "And now everything changes."

The door clicked shut behind her.

A sound so soft, it might've been missed.

Except in this room, silence spoke louder than words.

Dominic poured another glass of wine, his movements deliberate, like he'd rehearsed this moment long before she arrived.

Eva's breath caught as he turned to her, glass extended-not just an offering, but a test.

She took it.

His gaze flicked to her hand. "You're shaking."

"I'm not sure if that's fear," she said quietly, "or something else."

He stepped closer. "There's always a moment," he said, "right before a person decides who they're going to be. I think this is yours."

His words landed like a dare. She felt them more than heard them.

"You kill people," she said.

He smiled without warmth. "So do surgeons. So do governments."

"And I'm supposed to be okay with that?"

"No," he said. "You're supposed to walk away."

"But I didn't."

Their eyes locked. The tension between them crackled like a live wire.

He circled her slowly, studying her like a thing he hadn't quite decided whether to destroy or devour.

"You were in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said. "But something tells me you want to stay in the wrong."

Her pulse hammered in her neck.

He was too close now. Too calm. Too in control.

She hated that it thrilled her.

"You're dangerous," she whispered.

"And you," he murmured, brushing a finger along her jaw, "are curious."

His touch burned like a brand, and she hated how much she leaned into it.

"This isn't a fairy tale, Eva," he said. "There's no prince here. Just a man with blood on his hands and enemies in every corner of this city."

"Then why invite me?"

He leaned in, voice like smoke. "Because I haven't decided if you're my weakness... or my a's lips parted, but no words came out.

His mouth hovered just a breath from h for one dizzying second, the line between fear and desire blurred.

She kissed him first.

Hard. Furious. Like a storm bottled too long.

He didn't resist.

He crushed her against the wall, hands gripping hips, mouth devouring every doubt she still had left.

was wrong. Reckless. Mad.

And she didn't want it to stop

She didn't know how long she kissed him.

She just knew when it changed.

One second, his hands were fire on her waist, his mouth pressing hunger into her skin. The next, he pulled back-just enough for her to see the flicker of restraint in his eyes.

Dominic stepped away like it took everything in him to do it.

"You're playing with something you don't understand," he said, voice low and raw.

Eva wiped her lips, breathless. "So teach me."

He stared at her for a long moment. His jaw tightened. Then, he turned and crossed to the table, grabbing a folder she hadn't noticed before.

He tossed it down in front of her.

She opened it.

Inside were surveillance photos. Grainy. Black and white. Her walking to work. Leaving the grocery store. Unlocking her apartment.

All of them... taken in the last week.

Her stomach dropped.

"You've been watching me."

"No," he said. "*They* have."

Her eyes snapped up.

Dominic's face had gone hard. The man who kissed her was gone-replaced by someone colder. Sharper.

"You think I'm the worst thing in your life right now?" he said. "I'm the only one who didn't want you dead."

Her blood ran cold. "Who are they?"

"The man I killed last night?" he said. "Was a traitor. He was leaking information to a rival syndicate. Dangerous people. People who clean up loose ends."

"Like me?"

His silence was answer enough.

"But now," he said slowly, "you're not a loose end anymore. You're under *my* protection."

"Is that what this is?" she asked, stepping back. "Protection? Or possession?"

Dominic crossed the room in a flash, gripping her chin between his fingers-firm but not cruel.

"Don't confuse the two," he said, eyes burning into hers. "If I wanted to possess you, Eva, you'd already be mine."

Her breath caught, but she didn't look away.

"I don't know if I trust you."

He leaned in, lips barely brushing her ear.

"Good," he whispered. "That means you're still alive."

---

He let her go. She stood frozen, heart pounding.

"I'll have someone on you for the next few days," he said, already turning away. "You'll know when it's me. But if anyone else approaches you... don't run."

"Why not?"

He looked back.

"Because they won't chase , they will shoot you"