CHAPTER SEVEN
When she left, the air in the room felt suddenly thinner, as if she’d taken something vital with her.
I watched Selene Darzi’s retreat, the careful placement of each foot, the measured rise and fall of her chest. But in that moment she thought no one was looking, her shoulders dropped a fraction, her fingers uncurled. A glimpse of wildfire beneath ice.
Darius saw a daughter who knew her place.
I saw a woman waiting for her moment.
Darius waited until she was out of earshot before breaking the silence, his smile too sharp for the warmth it pretended to hold. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”
I didn’t answer.
Complimenting another man’s daughter in his presence always felt like touching a trap and there was no reason to state the obvious.
“She’ll make an excellent wife,” he continued. “Polished. Mannered. Knows her place.”
“Does she?”
He chuckled, low and ugly. “Oh, she’ll remember it soon enough.”
He was so goddamn pathetic. That was the problem with men like Darzi—they mistook fear for loyalty, submission for virtue. I’d dealt with his kind my entire life. Men who wrapped brutality in civility and called it tradition. The Dominion was full of them. He was just its most obscene mirror.
With our meal wrapped up, he stood and insisted we continue our conversation somewhere more comfortable.
I followed, taking in the home’s exterior.
The man liked to surround himself with symbols of power and portraits of dead men who’d been exactly like him. Pretty damn tacky, if you asked me.
He poured himself another drink once we were inside his office, offered me one, and smiled when I declined. “You’re a disciplined man, Kostas. That’s good. We need that sort of spine in the Dominion these days.”
“You mean obedience—again.”
His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Call it what you will. The world runs smoother when people know their place.”
I met his stare, unflinching. There was no subtle meaning about who he was referring to. “You’re referring to your daughter now?”
"A woman who understands her boundaries lives longer than one who fights them."
To some extent I agreed with that, but for different reasons that what he had in his head.
“Then I take it you understand that those boundaries you’ve placed around her no longer apply the second she becomes my fiancé?”
His smile froze, then thinned to nothing. The air between us charged with something dangerous. Good. Let him feel it—this wasn't his negotiation to dictate, and I needed him to understand that clearly.
His gaze dropped first, though his smile pretended victory. "You and I will get along just fine," he said.
We wouldn’t, so I let silence answer him.
"Well," he said after a moment, easing back in his chair, "my daughter is your choice."
The forced casualness in his voice betrayed him. I recognized that particular strain as what men sounded like when they're trying not to beg.
"Yes," I answered simply.
His eyebrow lifted. "Without consideration?"
This man was brilliant in some areas, and a fucking fool in most. Of course, I’d thought about it. What did he think I’d been doing since he put the proposal forward? I gave him a little more rope for his eventual noose.
"What's there to consider? We both understand the arrangement and you’ll agree to it no matter what."
The words hit their mark. A muscle in his jaw jumped, the involuntary flinch of a man confronting his own irrelevance. The Darzi name needed Kostas to survive. Mine would thrive without him before we wiped him out entirely. He could very well be thinking the same thing.
I’d love to see him try.
Still, he tried to feign ease. “It would appear so,” he said, swirling the amber in his glass. “An arrangement that benefits us both.”
“Let’s not pretend things are equal between us,” I replied, tone even.
His smile cracked again for half a second before reforming. “Direct. I can appreciate that in a man.”
“I’m not here for your appreciation. I’m here for your daughter.”
He blinked, and just like that the game shifted again. “You’re serious then, no need to think any longer?”
“I don’t waste time. I’ll be marrying her.”
He laughed softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You make it sound as if I’ve already given you permission.” The vein in his temple pulsed once, betraying the calm in his voice.
"Come on now, Darius. We both know this is past the point of me asking for permission. I'm being nice enough to inform you of what's happening."
"Very well," he conceded, the words tight, chuckling under his breath, pretending to find amusement where there wasn’t any. “So be it. You’ll find she’s well-trained.”
“I’ll decide what she is. From now on, you’ll deal with me directly, and I’ll be contacting her myself. I’ll see her when I please. No middlemen will be in our relationship.”
Darius tilted his head, a smirk curling his mouth. “Relationship?” he echoed, the word dripping with mockery.
I smiled faintly, unamused. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
He raised his glass in mock salute. “And what do you plan to do, Mr. Kostas? Take her out on dates? Go dancing?”
“I’ll make sure she’s seen and shown all the things you never could—or never bothered to.”
There it was—the crack I'd been looking for. His fading smile vanished entirely.
"Mind yourself, Kostas. There's a fine line between a man who knows his worth and one who overestimates it."
His threats weren’t even worth a sneer. It was almost amusing to see the way he’d built himself up sheerly on inflated ego.
"Yes, one of those men is in this room as we speak."
A dry laugh escaped him—the sound of a man grasping for control with slippery fingers. "And once you've taken possession of my daughter? What then?"
"You don’t need to worry about that. In fact, one of my men will shadow her starting tomorrow. When you see him, know you're looking at me."
“Allowing another man that close to what’s yours?” he mused. “That’s either brave or foolish. Temptation can be a dangerous thing.”
I smiled faintly. “Men know better than to touch what belongs to me—family or otherwise.”
There was no missing the implication of that statement. Besides, the man I was sending would sooner slit his own throat than cross that line.
Darius nodded slowly. “Then he’s welcome here.”
Like he could have fucking denied it.
“Good.” I checked my watch, then met his gaze again. “We can hash out the rest of the details later. I’d like to see her before I go.”
“Of course,” he said smoothly, reaching for his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, the blue light reflecting off his cufflinks. “She’s on the enclosed porch still. I’ll take you—”
“I can find my own way,” I cut in, already rising.
He hesitated just long enough for the insult to sting before forcing a smile.
I didn’t wait for him to respond before walking out of the room.
The house was too quiet—ornate halls wrapped in the kind of silence that only existed where power fed on fear.
I didn’t need a guide. I’d already memorized the layout before I arrived.
Men like him built their empires on control, and control always left a pattern.
Blind spots.
Entrances.
Exits.
There wasn’t a corridor in this place I hadn’t mapped in my head.
I never entered a building without knowing exactly how to burn it down from the inside if I had to.
My steps echoed softly as I cut through the east corridor, past a series of heavy portraits different than the others I’d seen earlier.
Every one of them was painted in the same palette of dominance—men in tailored suits, women posed like accessories.
I made my way to where Selene was, and beyond a set of glass doors, I saw her. She stood by the window, the moonlight making her reflection against the glass like something between tragedy and goddess.
For once, I caught her with her mask off—no practiced angle of her neck, no careful arrangement of limbs. Just her, existing in a rare moment of privacy. In this mausoleum of rehearsed performances, she stood like the only living thing among wax figures.
I lingered back, watching. Her dress followed the truth of her body, both delicate and dangerous. Whatever fragility her father had tried to cultivate in her had failed; beneath that expensive fabric was something forged rather than folded.
Dinner had proven what I’d suspected from the start: Selene Darzi wasn’t just another hollow piece in this game. And for the first time in years, I found myself wanting something that had nothing to do with empire-building or the Dominion’s expectations.
I wanted her.
I let a few seconds stretch, then stepped forward just enough for the floor to catch my weight, enough sound to announce I was there.
She didn’t startle, but I saw the shift in her reflection, the quick flicker of awareness before she turned her head slightly as I approached, calm on the surface.
“It’s done,” I announced.
Her brow knit slightly. “What’s done?”
“Your father and I have come to an understanding.” I watched her closely. “You’re mine. Effective immediately.”
She inhaled softly, but her face remained composed—a mask that didn't slip. The discipline impressed me.
"One of my most trusted men will be stationed near you," I continued. "He'll ensure your safety when I’m not with you."
Her eyes widened slightly, the only crack in her armor. "With me how?"
“I’ll be taking you out, leading up to the wedding,” I explained. “I don’t bring strangers into my home, and something tells me you’d rather know more about the man you’re marrying before you live under his roof.”
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Presumptuous of you.”
Then something shifted in her eyes—remembering her place, perhaps—and her spine went rigid. "I apologize, that was—"
"No," I said, my voice low enough that only she could hear it. "Never apologize for showing me who you really are. I need to see it. Being my wife won’t be easy.”
She didn’t flinch. “Nothing worth surviving ever is.”