11. Josie
He opened the passenger side door, waiting for me to slip in, but I just stared at him for a moment, before slipping onto the seat. He closed the door with a soft click.
He slid into the driver’s seat, and I turned toward the window, fixing my gaze on the blurred lights of the city. He didn’t say anything, but I could feel him waiting, expecting me to break the silence.
Not a chance.
I wasn’t gonna give him the satisfaction.
Nope. Not tonight. He could sit there in his eerie silence all he wanted, I wasn’t talking.
Not after everything that just went down, Harrison, the fight, the nine days of complete radio silence from him.
Not after he waltzed back into my life like he could just pick up right where he left off.
I wasn’t saying a word. He can wait all night.
I shifted in my seat, eyes flicking to the dashboard. My fingers drummed impatiently against my arm, and I chewed on my lip, stealing a glance at him.
Nothing. He hadn’t said a damn thing, just gripping the steering wheel with that same calm, unbothered expression.
I glanced back out the window, biting back the words burning on my tongue.
Not gonna talk.
Nope. Not gonna talk.
I was not gonna talk.
But... I couldn’t take it anymore. My breath hitched, and I felt the heat rise in my chest, the words spilling out before I could stop them.
“I’m so mad at you.” I whipped around to face him, “So damn mad, Tristan, you can’t even begin to imagine!”
His eyes stayed locked on the road, but I saw the flicker, the brief tightening of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed slightly against the leather steering wheel.
I waited, crossing my arms, my pulse racing, “Do you even care?” I pressed, “Do you even get what you put me through? Nine days, Tristan! No texts, no calls. Nothing! And then you just show up like... like none of it matters. Like I’m supposed to just—”
“You’re not,” his voice cut through mine, “I’m not asking you to forget it.”
That threw me off for a second. I blinked, my anger stuttering as I tried to read his expression.
“I don’t want your excuses,” I shot back, leaning toward him.
“I want answers. You kissed me that night, I chose you despite all your warning. I want to know why you thought it was okay to just disappear, to leave me hanging like that. You don’t get to do that to me, Tristan.
You don’t just get to walk in and out of my life whenever you feel like it. ”
“I didn’t plan on leaving.”
“Then what the hell was it? A vacation? You needed a break from me? What?”
He let out a breath through his nose, “It’s not that simple.”
I practically rolled my eyes, “It’s always ‘not that simple’ with men,” I snapped.
“What is it this time? And do not—do not—say that you’re a bad man protecting me from yourself.
Because if I hear that one more time, I swear to God, I’ll blow a gasket.
I don’t need your protection. I don’t need anyone’s protection! ”
“You don’t know what you need,” he said quietly, “Not when it comes to people like me.”
“People like you?” I scoffed, shaking my head.
“Don’t give me that mysterious crap right now.
I know exactly what kind of person you are.
And for some stupid reason, I'm still sitting in your car! I’m not some damsel.
I’m not helpless. You think I can’t handle whatever it is you’re hiding?
I can handle a lot more than you give me credit for. ”
He finally turned to look at me, just for a second, his eyes catching mine, “I know you can,” he said.
“Then why?” I threw my hands up. “Why ghost me? Why leave me hanging like that? You don’t get to walk away and act like you’re doing me a favor. That’s not how this works.”
He glanced at me, just a flicker of his eyes before turning back to the road, “Because you deserve better than this.”
“Better than what? You?” I shot back, “That’s for me to decide, don’t you think?”
His jaw clenched again, but he didn’t respond. Of course he didn’t. He just kept his eyes on the road, driving like nothing had happened.
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head as I turned back to the window, “You’re unbelievable.”
After almost half an hour, his estate came into view, the one he bought me when we first met, back when everything felt simpler. Back when I didn't know him.
The huge metal gates clinked open with a press of his tiny remote, the mechanical sound breaking the stillness. He drove the car inside, and the gates closed behind us, sealing us into his world.
Isolated.
No one else in sight.
Just the two of us.
He killed the engine and turned to me, but I didn’t meet his eyes. I kept staring out the window, the stone pillars of the estate looming like some kind of cage.
he stepped out of the car, walked around and opened the door from my side, waiting for me to step out, "Come on..."
I didn't budge. I sighed and sank deeper into the leather seat, crossing my arms. I could feel his gaze crawling over me, like he was trying to pull me out of the car with his mind.
When I stayed put, he didn't get annoyed.
Instead, he leaned in. He braced one hand on the roof and the other on the doorframe, pinning me in.
He dipped his head until he was deep in my personal space, his face just inches from mine.
I could smell the dark, spicy scent of his cologne and feel the actual heat radiating off his body.
It made my heart do a frantic little dance against my ribs.
"Please," he added.
I finally turned my head, my breath catching as I met those dark, intense eyes.
A slow, devastatingly handsome smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth, the kind of look that made it very hard to remember why I was even mad in the first place.
"I promise," he whispered, his eyes dropping to my lips for a split second before locking back onto mine, "to give you my undivided attention from now on."
The way he said undivided attention made my skin flush hot.
"Fine," I muttered, though my voice wasn't nearly as tough as I wanted it to be. I shoved the seatbelt release with more force than I needed, just to prove I wasn't totally under his spell.
He stepped back, making space for me. I stepped out of the car and he shut the door behind me, the gravel crunching under my heels as we walked toward the house.
I followed him up the steps, he shoved the heavy front doors open, and the cold air from inside hit me immediately, like the house itself was as icy as he was. I stepped in behind him, my arms still crossed tightly over my chest, trying not to shiver.
"You look beautiful tonight," he said without even looking at me, and then he added, "Did you wear that dress for him?"
I looked down at the red bodycon dress, it was short, tight, and definitely made a statement.
I’d picked it out to make Harrison regret every choice he’d ever made, but I wasn't about to give Tristan that satisfaction. Instead, I looked him dead in the eye, "I dress for myself, Tristan. I’ve never dressed for a man, and I’m not starting now," I snapped.
At that, he finally turned toward me. Some of the hardness in his expression slipped, just for a moment.
“I didn’t mean to make you hate me, Josephine…”
"Yeah, well, a little too late for that," saying that, I marched further into the house, desperate to get some air that didn't smell like him.
But he was right there. I felt his fingers brush against my arm, a touch so light it was barely there, but it still sent a massive electric shock straight down my spine. I froze in place, my breath hitching in my throat.
"Look, I'm not normal," he said, his voice dropping so low it was almost as if he was ashamed to admit it, "I don’t do this. I don’t 'date.' I don’t do the whole flowers and dinner thing. You’re the first person I’ve actually brought here."
I pulled my arm back, giving him a defensive look, "Why? What’s the problem? Are you scared of women or something?"
He tilted his head, his dark hair falling over his forehead. "Or something..."
My stomach did a nervous flip, "What? Are you scared of me?"
A ghost of a smirk pulled at his mouth. "No, Josephine," he said, "Not you."
"Then what?"
His gaze stayed locked on mine, "I'm mostly scared of... what I’m like."
"What you're like? What does that even mean?"
He ran a hand through his hair, "Look, I’ve been with women.
Every few months, someone I don't know. The thing is.
.. I don't care about them. Sometimes they get overwhelmed.
They change their minds halfway through.
And because I don't care, I just let them go. It’s easy to walk away when it means nothing. "
I blinked, my heart starting to hammer against my ribs. I wasn't sure I understood, but I was leaning in anyway, "Oh."
"But I know you," he rasped, stepping closer until the heat from his chest was warming my face, "And if I take that next step with you... if I actually touch you... I won't be able to just let you go. I'm afraid I'll scare you off."
"Scare me how?" I whispered.
"By the way I am," he murmured, his eyes darkening until they were almost entirely black. "By what I need when I’m... intimate. It’s not soft, Josephine. I don't know how to play nice when I want someone this much."
He reached out, his hand hovering just an inch from my throat, not quite touching but making the skin there prickle.
"Play nice? Intimate? Stop talking as if we're both not adults here," I said, glaring into his eyes, "Say it, clearly."
He reached out and finally touched my neck, "Every breath you take, it would be because I let you... because I told you to. I don't know how to be equal, Josephine. I only know how to lead. And the things I like... they aren't gentle."
I felt a shiver that wasn't from the cold air of the house, "What things? If you’re trying to scare me, you’re going to have to do better than 'not gentle.'"
He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, his breath hot against my skin, "I like it when there's a struggle," he whispered, the words sending a jolt straight to my core, "I like it when you try to fight me, just so I can show you that you can't win.
I like knowing that the only reason you're moving is because I'm making you move. "
He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, his jaw tight. I looked into his eyes, my breathing turning heavier.
"Most women... they think they want that. Until they're in it. Until they realize I’m not playing a character. This is just who I am. And I’m afraid that if I let myself have you, I won't know how to stop. I won't know how to give you back your 'no' once you've given me your 'yes.'"
I felt my heart stop, then double its speed. The air in the hallway felt like it was running out, "If you're so worried about scaring me, maybe you should stop describing it and just... show me. Give me a sample."
Tristan’s eyes went completely black. The little smirk he’d been wearing vanished. He didn't move for a long second, just stared at me, measuring my resolve.
"A sample?" he repeated.
Before I could even nod, he moved. It was so fast I didn't have time to gasp. One second he was a foot away, and the next, he had me backed against the cold wall. His hands didn't go for my waist, they went straight for my wrists, pinning them flat against the stone above my head.
The cold of the wall hit my back, but the front of me was a furnace. Tristan pressed his entire body against mine, making it impossible for me to move anything but my head.
"You want to see?" he rasped, his face so close his nose brushed mine, "You want to see what happens when I don't keep myself in control?"
He increased the pressure on my wrists, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it very clear that I wasn't going anywhere. I tried to shift, to move my legs, but he wedged his knee between mine, locking me in place.
"This is the start," he murmured, "I don't ask. I take. I don’t wait for you to get comfortable. If I want you here, this is where you stay. If I want you to look at me, you don't look away."
He let go of one of my wrists, but before I could drop my arm, his hand was on my throat.
"Do you feel that?" he whispered, his thumb grazing my jawline, "That's me deciding how this goes."
My breath was coming in short, shallow hitches. My skin was on fire. I looked up at him, my head tilted back against the stone, completely powerless and weirdly, dangerously already getting addicted to the feeling because for the first time, I didn't have anything to say.
I just had the realization that he wasn't exaggerating.
He leaned even heavier into me, his large frame completely overlapping mine until I felt small, almost fragile.
He shifted his grip, catching both of my wrists in just one of his hands, binding them together above my head with a terrifying strength.
I pulled, just a little, but it was like trying to move a mountain. I was stuck. Completely.
"Stop moving," he snapped.
He used his free hand to grab my chin, forcing me to look straight into those eyes. He didn't let me blink. He didn't let me turn away.
But I needed to know if this was just talk or if he actually meant it. I gritted my teeth and threw my entire weight into a sudden jerk, trying to rip my wrists out of his hold.
It was like hitting a brick wall.
Tristan didn’t even stumble. Instead, he slammed them back against the stone so hard I gasped, the impact vibrating through my shoulders. He didn't just hold me, he crushed my hands into the wall, using his strength to remind me exactly how much of a disadvantage I was at.
"I told you," he hissed, "Stop. Moving."
He used his forearm to press against my collarbone, pinning the top half of my body flat while his hand kept my wrists high and immobile. I was completely stretched out, vulnerable and trapped under his massive frame.
"You want to test me?" he whispered, his eyes burning with a dark light, "You want to see if I'll let you go just because you struggle? I won't. The more you fight, the more I’m going to enjoy keeping you right here."
The fear was real now, cold in my throat, but the pleasure was even sharper. It was a terrifying mix. My body was reacting to him, melting against his hard lines even as my mind screamed that I was in over my head.
"If you try to pull away, I’ll just pull you back harder," he muttered, sending a fresh wave of heat through me, "I like it when you’re difficult. It gives me an excuse to be rough."
He shifted his weight, grinding his knee higher between my thighs, making sure I felt every inch of it.
"Every time you fight me, you're just giving me more control," he rasped, "You're telling me that you want me to force you. You're telling me you want to see how far I'll go."
I knew what he wanted. He wanted to see me break. He wanted to hear me give in.
But looking at the darkness in his eyes, I felt a different kind of pull. A soft, shaky curiosity that made my knees weak.
"Tristan," I whispered, as I looked at him with wide, honest eyes, "I... I think I want to try. I want to see if I can play your game."
He froze, hesitated, stunned by the sudden softness in my tone. Slowly, almost as if he were afraid he’d break me, he uncurled his fingers from my wrists and stepped back.
The loss of his heat was like a cold splash of water.
I slumped slightly against the wall, my legs feeling like lead. I brought my hands down, my fingers shaking as I gently rubbed the red marks his grip had left on my skin. I looked down at my wrists, then back up at him, feeling small and completely exposed in my short red dress.
"I'm scared," I admitted, my voice barely a breath, "but I don't want you to stop. I want to know what it's like... to let you be the one in charge."
I bit my lip, feeling incredibly vulnerable, like a lamb walking toward a wolf and asking to be caught.
"Can you show me tonight... and I don't want you to hold back, I need to know, to feel what I'm getting myself into instead of just... talking about it."
Tristan stood perfectly still, his chest heaving as he watched me rub my wrists.
"Then run," he rasped.
I blinked, confused. "What?"
"Run, Josephine," he said, "Go. Hide. Lock the doors. Try to get away from me. Because I’m going to count to ten, and then I’m coming to find you."
He stepped into my space again, he leaned down until his lips were brushing against my ear.
"If I catch you," he whispered, "I’m not taking you to a bed. I’m going to take you right where you're standing. I’m going to pin you to the floor or the wall or the stairs. I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll forget your own name."
I felt a jolt of pure fear go through me, but my body felt like it was melting.
"I want you to try your best to escape," he continued, his breath hot against my skin. "I want you to fight me. I want you to scratch and pull and struggle with everything you have. Because when I finally win, I want to know that I took every bit of power you had left."
He pulled back and looked at the heavy grandfather clock in the hall and then back at me.
"One," he said.
I didn't wait for two. I turned and bolted down the hallway. My heart leaped into my throat, my heels clicking loudly on the floor. I reached for the first door I saw and yanked the handle.
Locked.
I ran to the next one, my breath coming in panicked gasps.
Locked.
Every door I touched was like a wall. I felt the heat of him somewhere behind me, I got to the kitchen and looked for a place to hide and found none, then the dinning room, I couldn't hide under the table, if he caught me that would be very uncomfortable for us.
The house felt huge and empty, like a maze designed to trap me. I turned a corner and saw the grand staircase.
I looked back. He wasn't there yet, but I could hear his footsteps. He wasn't running.
I scrambled toward the staircase, my hand gripping the cold railing as I took the steps two at a time. I stopped, took off my heels, my lungs burned. I just needed to get to the top. I just needed to find one room that would open.
I reached the middle of the staircase, my chest heaving, and for a split second, I thought I might make it.
Then, a hand clamped around my ankle.
I let out a sharp cry as I was jerked backward. I tumbled onto the marble steps, my hands scraping against the stone. I tried to crawl upward, my fingers digging into the carpet, but the weight of him was suddenly everywhere.
Tristan was over me in a second. He grabbed my waist and hauled me back down to the wide landing in the middle of the stairs. I thrashed, kicking my legs and pushing against his chest with all my strength.
He flipped me over onto my stomach, pressing my face into the soft carpet of the stairs. He pinned my lower back with his weight, his knees locking my thighs down so I couldn't move an inch.
"You call that running?" he hissed, "You barely even tried. It’s like you wanted to be caught."
I tried to push up, to arch my back and shake him off, but he grabbed both of my wrists and pulled them behind my back, holding them tight with just one hand.
The air left my lungs as he pressed himself into me, showing me exactly how much stronger he was.
"I'm going to give you one way out," he murmured, though he didn't sound like he wanted me to take it.
"If it gets too much, if you're too scared to handle the real me, you say the word.
Zane," he sneered, "Say it, and I'll let you go.
I'll let you go back to your boring little life.
But if you don't say it, you belong to me until I'm done. "
I didn't say a word. I just breathed in the scent of him, my heart racing with fear and a heat I couldn't stop.
"Nothing? Good," he muttered.
Then without a second of warning, I heard the violent sound of fabric screaming. He reached down and gripped the back of my dress. He gave it a single brutal yank, and ripped the material clean down the middle.
The cold air hit my bare skin instantly, making me shiver as the ruined material fell away from my shoulders.