Chapter 6 – Kaz
It’s been one week.
One whole week since I brought Violet into this villa.
And every fucking day since then, I’ve questioned myself.
What the hell am I doing?
This isn’t how I work—keeping liabilities close, housing loose ends under my own goddamn roof. My entire life has been built on precision, control, elimination of threats. Violet Harrison is a threat to my insanity, no matter how soft her voice or innocent her eyes might be.
But even now, as I sit in my office, screens glowing in front of me, I know the truth.
I can’t let her go.
Even if I wanted to.
I lean back in the leather chair, eyes fixed on the monitor showing her in real-time. She’s pacing. Again. Back and forth across the polished floor, barefoot, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her hair’s a little messy. She hasn’t even noticed the book on the table waiting for her.
She’s not doing anything. But I can’t look away.
It’s pathetic.
I’m pathetic.
I should be in meetings. Planning hits. Running operations. But ever since she stepped foot into this place, I haven’t been able to stay away from the cameras for longer than one hour.
I watch her like she’s a drug I can’t quit.
A part of me—the darker, crueler part—wants to believe this is still about control. About ensuring she doesn’t leak what she saw that night. That keeping her here is about cleaning up a mess. But it’s a lie, and I know it.
The truth is, I’m obsessed.
Every time she challenges me, spits fire at me, refuses to eat unless I coax her myself—she gets deeper under my skin. She’s not broken. Not yet. And fuck, I don’t think I want her to be.
There’s a magnetism between us I haven’t felt in years. Maybe ever.
I know she hates me. She should.
But there’s a flicker of something in her eyes when I get too close. Something sharp and unwilling and alive. And I want to be the only one who ever gets to see that.
I drag a hand down my face, exhaling slowly.
This isn’t right. I know that.
But right has never mattered in my world. Only what I want.
And right now, I want her.
Here. With me. Always.
And nothing—not her protests, not Arina’s damn warnings, not Maxim’s judgment—is going to change that.
It’s past midnight. The entire house is quiet. Everyone is in their wing. Security rotations are locked in. I should be resting. But I’m not. I’m still staring at her.
Violet suddenly stops pacing. She looks straight at the corner of the room where the security camera is mounted—where she knows it is. And she smiles. It’s dangerous. I sit up, frowning.
“Do you like watching me, Kaz?” she says suddenly.
My jaw tightens.
She’s never spoken to the cameras before. Not once. But now her voice—clear and cool—rings through the speaker like a challenge.
“I bet you do,” she continues, brushing the hair out of her face and tossing it over one shoulder. “You like sitting in your creepy little office watching me every night, don’t you?”
I don’t move. My pulse kicks up, but I stay completely still. Watching. Listening.
“You’re such a fucking pervert,” she says with a smirk. “Do you get off on this? Is that why you have cameras in here? So you can jerk off to the prisoner you kidnapped? Is that what gets you going?”
She moves slowly across the room. Every step is deliberate now. Every word laced with sugar-coated venom.
“You’re a freak, Kaz. A coward who watches from a distance because deep down, you know you’ll never have me. You’re not man enough to handle someone who doesn’t want you.”
My hands curl into fists, but I don’t break.
She leans on the bedframe, lips parted in mock seduction.
“Are you hard now, Kaz?” she whispers. “Go ahead. Enjoy the show. I’ll give you something nice to watch—maybe even slide my hand down between my thighs for your sick entertainment.
Isn’t that why you put the cameras in here? For the freaky stuff?”
I feel it building.
The rage.
The need.
The tight coil of lust and fury choking me at the same time.
But I don’t move.
Not yet.
She wants a reaction. She’s trying to provoke me. Push me. Break me. I stare at the screen—at the wicked glint in her eyes and the cruel twist of her mouth—and I breathe through it.
Because this game? She just changed the rules. And she has no fucking idea what she’s started.
Violet moves with slow, mocking grace, her eyes never leaving the camera.
She climbs back onto the bed—on her knees this time—and arches her spine in a deliberately obscene way.
Her thin tank top rides up as she shifts, exposing the smooth line of her waist, her thighs parted just enough to make the image burn.
She leans forward on her hands, her chest heaving slightly from the effort, her hair spilling like ink over one shoulder. Then she tilts her head to the side and gives the camera a poisonous little smile.
“Is this what you want, Kaz?” she purrs. “Is this what you’re into? Me on my knees? All freaky and helpless for your viewing pleasure?”
She slides a hand down her side and spreads her fingers just over her stomach, her voice dropping into a silky dare. “I can keep going, if you’re enjoying yourself. Maybe moan your name next. That’s what you want, right? To feel like you’re in control of something? It’s all you’re good for anyway.”
My jaw clenches so hard I hear a crack.
My blood is lava.
I grip the edge of the desk, veins rising against my skin as I fight every urge in my body. But I’m too angry. Too turned on.
I don’t even realize I’ve stood up until I’m already storming down the hallway. My fists are clenched, heart pounding, fury bleeding into desire, and I don’t stop. I don’t knock.
I open the door to her room.
She jerks upright on the bed like she’s been caught in a trap. The smugness drains from her face, and her spine straightens like a steel rod as her eyes lock onto mine.
Good.
I step in slowly. Deliberately. The door clicks shut behind me, and I turn the lock with an unmistakable snap.
She starts shifting back on the bed as I approach, crawling toward the headboard like she’s trying to disappear into the wall, but there’s nowhere to go. I don’t say a word. Not yet. I just keep moving until I’m right in front of her, towering over her while she sits trembling on the mattress.
I can see the way her chest rises and falls. The slight shake in her fingers. But her chin stays up. Her eyes stay locked on mine. Always so defiant.
I lean in, planting a hand on the headboard beside her head, the other on the mattress beside her thigh, caging her in.
“Stop playing with fire, Violet.”
She swallows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I tilt my head, gaze dragging over her flushed cheeks, her parted lips. “Yes, you do.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.
“You think I haven’t been good to you?” I murmur, voice low and deadly calm. “I haven’t laid a finger on you. I’ve given you food, clothes, comfort. I’ve given you space.”
I lean closer until my lips are near her ear. “But that ends the second you push me too far.”
She stiffens. “What does that even mean?”
“It means,” I whisper, dragging my gaze back to hers, “if you keep testing me, you’re going to find out what happens when I stop trying to be good.”
Violet blinks, and for the first time tonight, her mouth stays shut.
Good.
Let her feel the weight of what she’s doing.
Because I swear to God…if she tempts me again like that—I won’t be able to hold back. And we both know it.
I pull her phone from my coat and toss it onto the bed. It lands beside her like a final warning.
She snatches it up like I just handed her a piece of her freedom. Her face lights up for a second—hope, stupid and na?ve. She unlocks it, starts scrolling.
It doesn’t take her long.
No contacts. No photos. No apps.
Just one file.
She opens it.
Her breath hitches when she sees the photo. It’s her. Sleeping. Peacefully. Curled beneath those damn sheets like she’s never tasted fear.
I watch her stare at it, then stare at me.
“You’ve been…watching me while I sleep?” Her voice shakes. She’s horrified.
I don’t even blink. “That’s the least of what I could be doing.”
She squeezes the phone like she’s trying to crush it in her hand. “You’re sick.”
I take a slow step forward. She stiffens. Good.
I stop just short of her and let my voice drop.
“Be careful, malyshka,” I murmur, eyes fixed on her mouth. “If you keep this going, watching you sleep might be the least of the things I do to you.”
Her pupils flare. She flinches—just a little—but she doesn’t look away. God, she’s brave. Stupid, reckless, and brave. And she still doesn’t get it. She’s mine.
Every breath. Every blink. Every shiver crawling down her spine—I own it now.
She just hasn’t figured it out yet. I have nothing but time. I decide to walk away, before she pushes me over the precipice of my lust.
I’m two steps from the door, my hand already curling around the knob, when I hear her voice behind me.
“Wait.”
I stop.
Of course I do.
I turn halfway and look at her over my shoulder. She’s standing now, the thin material of her shirt wrinkled from her grip, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.
“I’m losing my mind in here,” she says. “This room—these walls—I feel like I’m suffocating. You want to keep me here? Fine. But at least let me out of this room.”
My jaw tightens.
She adds, “I won’t try to run. I just…I need air. I need something else. Please.”
She’s not crying. She’s not begging. And that’s what makes me say yes.
“You can walk around the house,” I say slowly, like I’m warning a child near a fire. “But don’t even think about escaping.”
I watch her expression shift—hope trying to bloom, but my warning clips its wings before it can take off.
“I mean it, Violet,” I say, fully turning now. “If you so much as breathe in the direction of a locked door or open window, I’ll put you back in this room and chain the fucking door shut.”
Her eyes flash at that, but she nods once.
I nod back, my voice a low growl. “Tomorrow morning. Be ready. Get some sleep tonight.”
I leave before I do something I’ll regret—like drag her into my arms just to feel her warmth or pin her against that wall just to see if she moans when she’s angry.
No. Not tonight.
She’s still fire. And I’m still gasoline.
And if I stay a second longer, I’ll burn us both to ash.