Chapter One

Micah’s POV

“Shit… no, no, no—” I cursed silently under my breath. “Just a few seconds more.”

My fingers flew across the key, code blurring into gibberish as alarms screamed inside my headset. I’d been in the system for less than ninety seconds. I was supposed to be out in sixty.

The warehouse was dead silent, except for the soft hum of my laptop and the occasional drip of water echoing from the pipes overhead. Crouched behind a rusted stack of crates, bathed in the blue glow of my screen, I typed fast, adrenaline surging like a live wire under my skin.

This wasn’t my cleanest job, but I didn’t have the luxury of clean anymore. My rent was far overdue and debt collectors were already hounding me.

So I needed this money. The cartel contact I’d stupidly agreed to help was expecting access to a shipping manifest that, according to what I’d found, belonged to some ‘private importer.’ Whatever. Not my business.

I was just doing the damn job for the pay. The files were right there, firewalled but vulnerable. A little too vulnerable, if I’m being honest.

My gut told me to walk away but I couldn't. Because it was a little too late to back out halfway— the cartel would kill me if I did. And also, I was too damn broke not to finish the job.

“Come on, baby,” I whispered, decrypting the last security layer. “Just show me the goods…”

Click. The folder opened. It contained shipping routes, container numbers and codes that meant nothing to us, civilians, but millions to someone in their trade. I started the data dump, encrypted the file, and hit send.

Done. Or so I thought.

Until I heard the click of a safety being released behind my head.

“Hands up.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How did I not hear footsteps behind me?

I froze. The kind of still that only comes when your brain’s screaming to you to run, but your body already knows it’s too late. I just knew it. I should have just followed my guts and walked away.

God.

“Turn around slowly,” the voice said again.

I obeyed, moving my feet slowly. Three men in suits stood in front of me, all with dead eyes. One of them carried a gun fitted with a silencer.

These weren't cops. They weren't cartel either. They looked worse.

“Micah Reed,” the tallest one said, checking something on his phone. “You really didn’t know whose files you were working on, did you?”

Of course. They knew my name. I bet they knew damn thing about me.

I stayed silent.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You just sold classified Romano family data to a cartel for a mere fifteen thousand dollars.”

I did what? Romano family data? The Romano syndicate didn’t just run drugs or guns—they owned entire governments in the country. Elio Romano was practically a myth. Some said he didn’t exist. Others said he once burned a man alive for interrupting his dinner.

My chest tightened. I could feel a hot liquid trailing between my thighs as I stared at them.

“I didn’t know,” I said quickly. “I swear—”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought of my dying mother for a second. She’d advised me against taking up this job. I guess I won't be seeing her again.

“Yeah, you all say that.”

He nodded to the other two men. One yanked my arms behind my back, another ripped the drive from the port of my laptop.

“Wait—no, no, listen, I can fix it—!”

The tall man's fist connected with my stomach. I doubled over, gasping for air. My laptop was slammed shut and taken. Hands yanked my wrists behind my back and cuffs snapped shut on it.

The one with the silencer stretched his hands aiming at my left chest. This was it. I was going to die in a shitty warehouse, face-first in dirt, over a goddamn job I should’ve turned down. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the impact of the gunshot.

But then, one of the men’s phones buzzed.

A pause.

They exchanged looks and nodded at each other, like they were communicating in some sort of unspeakable language.

“Change of plans,” the tall one, who seemed to be their leader, said. “You are wanted alive.”

“What? Who?”

“Elio.”

Just one word. And suddenly, I wished they’d just killed me.

“Knock him out,” the leader said, marching out already. I didn’t even get to scream before something cracked against my skull and dropped me into darkness.

~~~~

When I woke up, my head was pounding, and my face was mashed against the backseat of a blacked-out SUV. My hands were tied behind me and my ankles were bound. I couldn’t see anything except the glint of a silver ring on the driver’s hand.

The city lights melted into glass as I was driven into the hills, past gated estates and security checkpoints that screamed money and blood.

By the time they hauled me out and marched me into the marble penthouse, I knew I wasn’t in the hands of hired thugs anymore.

I was in his house. They dragged me through a private elevator, past silent guards in tailored suits, and into the most luxurious penthouse I’d ever seen.

That’s where I saw a man who was standing by the window, back to me, hands in his pockets.

Elio Romano.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me who he was. I recognized him instantly. The man I’d hacked. The man whose name never showed up in headlines, but made kings bleed behind closed doors.

He was sipping something dark from a crystal tumbler, staring at the skyline like he owned it. He probably did.

He turned when he heard me struggling against the cuffs. And just like that, I forgot how to breathe. Because God? He was beautiful in that terrifying, expensive way.

If this were a normal day where I wasn't at the point of death, I would have imagined what it would feel like to be pinned beneath him, my wrists trapped in one of his hands as he fucked the living daylight out of me

He was tall, his dark hair was slicked back. He had a five o’clock shadow on a razor-sharp jaw. His blue eyes were like sharpened obsidian—cutting right through me. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t even look curious.

He looked like he’d already decided what to do with me. And none of it involved mercy.

“So,” he said calmly, walking toward me, the drink still in his hand “You are the little thief who tried to sell my blood.”

His blood?? My mind stalled. There had to be something I was missing—something big.

“I didn’t know it was your file,” I said again, because it was all I had left. “I was just trying to make ends meet for myself.”

He stopped just inches away from where I laid sprawled.

“That you were. But you were risking my niece's life the whole time.”He crouched down until we were eye-level, and studied me for a long second. “You have no idea what you’ve walked into, do you?”

I tried to swallow but I couldn’t.

“I’ve seen your work. You’re smart. Reckless. But talented,” he said. “You didn’t even know whose system you were in.”

“So you won't kill me?”

“No. You just saved your life.”

Chapter Two

Micah's POV

“No. You just saved your life.”

The fuck does he mean?

I blinked hard, still sprawled flat on the cold marble floor, aching in places I didn’t know could ache. My stomach throbbed where that asshole had punched me. My skull pulsed with the memory of the blow that knocked me out.

But Elio Romano? He looked like he’d just gotten back from a gala.

I swallowed. My mouth was dry. “So… that’s it? I get to live?”

Elio stood and walked to his bar, pouring himself another drink. The soft clink of ice against the crystal glass echoed…

“That depends,” he said, turning back to me. “Living and breathing aren't the same thing.”

He took a slow sip from his drink. “You sold the location of my blood. My niece was on that ship. If I hadn't intercepted it, she would’ve been taken. Tortured. Maybe worse.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came.

“You didn’t know,” he repeated, walking toward me like a panther. “That’s the only reason you're not already in pieces.”

He crouched in front of me again, perfectly composed. His oud and sandalwood scent engulfed me strongly this time. God.

“But ignorance doesn't mean innocence,” he said, voice low, almost intimate. “And innocence won’t protect you from what you owe me.”

I swallowed. “You’re going to kill me anyway. So why not do it now instead?

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be in pieces.”

I flinched, the cuffs biting into my wrists. “Then why—why the hell am I here?”

His blue eyes locked on mine.

“Because,” he said simply, “I want to see what I can make out of you.”

I stared at him. “I’m not some project.”

He smirked faintly. “You’re whatever I say you are.”

The man was unreal. His gaze dipped to my mouth in just a fickle second. But I caught it.

Was he…? No. No way.

Before I could say anything, he rose and snapped his fingers once. Two guards I didn't notice before appeared from the shadows.

“Untie him," he said, not even looking at me.

One of the guards obeyed, crouching beside me and opening the cuffs at my wrists and ankles. My skin burned from the friction. I didn’t move. Not until Elio spoke again.

"Stand up."

My body didn’t want to. My head throbbed and my legs felt like rubber, but I pushed myself upright, if only because disobeying him didn’t seem like a survivable option.

He finally turned to face me fully. And fuck, there was something in his eyes that made my knees threaten to fold.

“Strip.”

I blinked. “What?”

His voice didn’t change. “I’m sure you heard me.”

I stared at him like he was joking, but nothing about Elio Romano suggested he ever joked.

“You don't want to kill me, fine. Torture me, okay. But what the hell is this?”

“You have nothing left to bargain with, Micah. Your body, your mind, your skills—those are mine now. I don’t need your consent. But I’ll give you the illusion of choice. Strip, or I’ll have my men do it for you.”

I could barely breathe.

This was it. This was the price of staying alive. And I had no fucking idea what he was going to do with me.

I reached for the hem of my hoodie with shaking hands and pulled it over my head. Then my shirt came next.

His eyes didn’t blink. He watched every inch of skin I exposed like he was calculating.

I dropped the shirt to the floor.

“Pants.” He commanded.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Because you need to learn what it means to belong to someone.”

Belong to—?

I bit down on my lip, my hands moving to the button of my jeans. My fingers shook, but I undid it, then slid them down. I stepped out of them, standing in just my briefs now. Exposed.

And God help me. My cock was stone hard. I hated it. Hated that some dark, buried part of me was... reacting to him. This wasn’t arousal. It was fear. It had to be.

Elio walked toward me again, slow and composed.

“You’re prettier than I expected.”

He reached out, running the back of his knuckles down my cheek. My skin lit up like I’d been scalded. My instinct told me to step back, but something worse told me not to move at all. That voice inside me, the one I never listened to, was curious.

“What are you going to do to me?” I whispered before I could stop myself.

He tilted his head slightly. “That depends on how well you behave.”

He turned to one of the guards in the room. Scars slashed across his face like someone had clawed him once and regretted not finishing the job.

“Take him to the guest suite,” he said, walking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to me again like I was nothing more than a temporary distraction.

One of the guards grabbed me roughly under the arm and yanked me up before I could finish. My legs were still shaky, and I stumbled.

They dragged me down a pristine hallway that smelled like lemon oil. I counted security cameras as I went—three in the hall, two in the elevator. Motion sensors by the vents. State-of-the-art lock system on every damn door.

Classy. There was no way out of here.

I was led to a massive bedroom—if you could call it that. It looked more like a hotel suite than anything else. A king-sized bed sat in the middle, draped in deep gray linen. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed off a city that didn’t even know I was gone.

“This is where you’ll stay,” one of the guards said, and turned to leave. The other one stayed behind, standing stiff by the door like some human surveillance camera.

I stood there for a beat, refusing to move. If I didn’t acknowledge it, maybe this place wouldn’t become real.

But it already was. Was I his prisoner….Or his possession?

I stumbled back until my knees hit the edge of the bed. My palms were slick. I should be calculating my next move like I’d been trained to.

But all I could think about was how his toned abs would feel under my fingers.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Thinking about his hands when I should be looking for exits?

I let out a shaky breath and sat down, only for the lights to dim—on their own.

The quiet hum of electricity filled the room as the monitor blinked awake. My name blinked across the screen in crimson red letters.

MICAH REED — STATUS: RECONDITIONING INITIATED.

My skin went cold. What the hell was this place?

Chapter three Almost tempted.

Elio’s POV

I was genuinely intrigued by this boy. I mean, he had the fucking guts to hack into my database and infiltrate it in less than two minutes.

My fingers gripped the bourbon glass, the burn of it lingering on my lips. I had watched him strip hours ago, his lean body trembling under my stare, his defiance cracking into something raw.

It took every ounce of control not to cross the room and touch him then.

I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But I didn’t build an empire by giving in to impulses.

His file sat open on my desk, pulled from the dark corners of my network. Micah Reed, twenty-six, freelance hacker, no criminal record but a trail of debts. Unpaid hospital bills for his mother. A sister in college. He was good. Too good to be working for scum like Rico. And too reckless to realize he had stepped into my world.

The shipping manifest he hacked was Sophia’s location. My blood. If the cartel had reached her first, I would have burned their world to ash.

I drained the bourbon and set the glass down. My phone buzzed. Luca’s message: He’s in the suite. System’s active.

The reconditioning program was live, tracking his every move, every breath. I needed to know who Micah was beyond the code.

Was he a tool I could sharpen or a liability I had to erase?

I walked to the security room, the hum of monitors filling the air. Luca stood by the screens, his scarred face lit by the glow of Micah’s suite. The kid was sitting on the bed, staring at the monitor with his name in red. His shoulders were tense, his hands fisted in the sheets. He looked like a caged animal, ready to bolt but with nowhere to go.

“He’s scared,” Luca said, not looking at me. “You sure about this?

I didn’t answer him, instead, my gaze was trained on Micah on the screen. His dark hair fell into his eyes, his jaw tight with defiance.

Luca shifted beside me, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “We should’ve ended this when we had the chance. You’re playing with fire.”

I didn’t look at him. “I don’t play.”

“Then what the hell is this?” he snapped, gesturing toward the screen where Micah sat still, eyes narrowed at the camera like he could see us watching. “He’s not just some kid, Elio. He broke into your system. No one’s ever done that and lived to talk about it.”

“He cracked level-three encryption in less than two minutes,” I finally said, my voice even. “Do you know anyone else who can do that?”

“That’s exactly my point!” Luca’s voice rose, edged with frustration. “You’re letting him stay because he impressed you?”

“I’m letting him stay,” I said, turning to face him finally, “because he’s useful.”

“For now.”

“For long enough,” I snapped. “He found the shipping manifest I encrypted personally. Do you know how many of our own men have failed to crack that system during drills?”

Luca’s jaw clenched. “So, we keep a hacker with a god complex locked in a suite and hope he doesn’t bury us from the inside?”

I stepped closer to him, my voice low. “We keep a boy who’s desperate enough to risk death for his family. You want loyalty? Nothing’s more loyal than a man with someone to lose.”

Luca looked away, his nostrils flaring. “You think he’s some prodigy, but he’s just another risk.”

“He’s a risk worth calculating.”

There was a beat of silence between us, the tension sharp and humming. On the screen, Micah stood and walked to the window, placing both hands on the glass, staring out. He looked small from this distance. Fragile.

But I’d seen the fire behind those eyes.

“He’ll test you,” Luca said quietly. “I can already see it. He’s not afraid enough of you.”

I gave a small, dark smile. “Then we’ll give him a reason to be.”

Luca’s mouth twisted. “You always did like breaking things before you claimed them.”

I ignored the jab. My eyes remained fixed on Micah. “Just make sure the system logs everything. Every deviation. Every instinct. If he even thinks about betraying me, I’ll know before he does.”

“And then?” Luca asked, almost spitefully.

I smiled faintly. “Then we’ll see if he deserves a place at my table. Or in the ground.”

Luca shook his head. “You better hope he’s worth it, boss. Because if he’s playing you, Elio. I won’t wait for your permission to end him.”

I clapped him on the shoulder, firm. “That’s why I keep you around. Don't forget to station men around his mother and sister before the Carusos cartel get to them.”

Luca left me in the security room with a frustrated grunt, muttering something in Italian under his breath. I left the room without another word.

His warnings clung to me, but they didn’t matter.

My boots echoed sharply against the marble floors as I descended the hallway, my hands buried in the pockets of my suit pants. I keyed into the suite, and the soft chime of the lock gave way to silence. But not for long.

The bathroom door creaked open just as I stepped into the living area.

Micah stepped out from the bathroom, bare-chested, towel slung low on his hips. His skin was still glistening from the shower, droplets trailing down his chest in slow, carving trails down the curve of his collarbone and lower v-line.

He froze when he saw me. His grip tightened on the towel, the fabric slipping just enough to reveal the sharp curve of his hip.

My eyes dragged down his body, slow, deliberate. “Settling in, Micah?”

He shrugged. A single drop of water slid down the side of his neck, trailing over his chest. “It's hard to enjoy anything with you watching.”

I stepped forward once. He lifted his chin and didn’t back away. Daring me?

I moved closer again, until there was barely a breath between us.

“You have a habit of being cocky,” I said, my voice smooth, but tight. “Even when you should be afraid.”

“I am afraid,” he murmured. “I just don’t like to show it to predators.”

My hand moved before I could stop it, my fingers brushing his jaw, trailing up to cup the side of his face. His breath hitched.

God, he was warm. His skin was smooth beneath my fingertips. That mouth was so close now I could taste it on my tongue. I should’ve pulled away. I didn’t.

“Say something,” he whispered.

I didn’t.

My gaze dropped to his pink lips, parted, tempting in a way that made my restraint falter.

I leaned in, just enough for him to feel it, for our breaths to mingle, heat curling between us like smoke.

And then—

I pulled back.