Page 52 of His Dark Desires

Webcam footage plays across another screen, Sophia pacing her apartment, phone pressed to her ear as she makes desperate calls to other galleries. Her shoulders slump further every time she's rejected. She doesn't know I've blacklisted her everywhere.

My jaw tightens as I review the surveillance footage from three nights ago. Daniel entering her building, leaving hours later. I force myself to unclench my fists. This transgression, I'll permit. Once. She's hurting, seeking comfort in familiar territory. But Daniel's usefulness has expired. If he continues sniffing around her, I'll ensure his promising career encounters some unfortunate setbacks. The art world can be so fickle.

I pull up the latest reports on her apartment search. Every potential lead mysteriously falls through, leaving her with dwindling options. Soon, she'll have nowhere left to turn. No one left to trust.

Except me.

I feel a hint of a smile on my lips. Everything proceeds according to plan. The pieces are in motion, and Sophia's world is crumbling exactly as designed.

The penthouse feels hollow without her creative energy filling these sterile spaces. I catch myself glancing toward the studio door, remembering how she'd lose herself in her work, completely unaware of my watching.

I check my watch, 7:42 p.m. She'll be here within minutes. My calculations are solid. The gallery rejection, the lease violation notice, Marina's character assassination, all pressure points designed to drive her back to me.

The security feed shows empty hallways, but anticipation coils in my chest. I've arranged every detail. Even Daniel played his part perfectly, though he doesn't realize how his disappointing comfort only pushed her closer to her breaking point.

The buzzer rings at 7:45 p.m. Right on schedule.

Through the monitors, I watch Sophia shift her weight from foot to foot, proud even in defeat. Her hair is pulled back messily, dark circles under her eyes betraying sleepless nights. The sight stirs something possessive in me. I want to smooth away that exhaustion, replace it with the fire I know burns beneath.

Minutes later, Mara leads her to my study, tension evident in both women's postures. I remain seated at my desk as Sophia bursts into the room like an avenging angel, beautiful in her rage.

"You did this!" she screams as Mara excuses herself. "The gallery, the apartment, Marina's accusations, it's all connected to you, isn't it?!"

I stay silent, drinking in her presence. She paces before my desk, listing the disasters that have befallen her. Her hands shake as she speaks, but her chin stays high.

"Every gallery in the city suddenly closed their doors to me. My landlord is evicting me on ridiculous grounds. And Marina?" She laughs bitterly. "She couldn't have known those details about me unless someone fed them to her."

The fury radiates off her, and I have to resist the urge to smile. Even cornered, she's magnificent. This time without her has been necessary but torturous. Now she's here, exactly where she belongs, though she doesn't realize it yet.

"Are you going to say anything?" she demands, hands planted on my desk as she leans forward. "Or just sit there looking pleased with yourself?" When I still don't say anything, she continues. "Did you really think I wouldn't figure it out?" Sophia's voice cracks as she points at the screens behind me. "That you've been harboring this fucking obsession over me?" Her chest heaves with each accusation, hair falling loose from its messy bun. The shadows under her eyes only heighten her raw beauty. "You destroyed everything I worked for!" She slams her palms on my desk. "My reputation, my home, my independence, gone. And for what? To prove you could?"

A tear slides down her cheek. My fingers itch to brush it away, but I wait. Let her spend her anger first.

"The worst part?" She lets out a bitter laugh. "I trusted you. I actually believed you wanted to support my art. But it was all just another game of control, wasn't it?"

When her words finally run dry, I rise from my chair. I take my time as I walk from behind my desk. She tenses as I approach but holds her ground.

"You're right." I stop beside her, close enough to catch the scent of her shampoo. "I orchestrated everything. The gallery's sudden financial concerns, the lease violation, even Marina's convenient discoveries about your past."

Her eyes widen at my casual admission. "Why?"

"Because you belong to me, Sophia." I brush my knuckles along her arm. "You should be here, where I can protect you from the vultures circling your talent."

She jerks away. "Protect me? You're the one who set them loose!"

"To show you what I can offer." I catch her wrist firmly. "Stay with me. I'll make the gallery reconsider. Marina's accusations will be discredited. We can form a partnership," I continue, releasing her wrist to cup her face. "Your artistic freedom with my resources and protection. Think of what we could create together."

Her breath catches. I see the war in her eyes—desire for the opportunities I offer fighting against her need for independence.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you leave here exactly as you arrived." I stroke my thumb across her cheek. "A ruined woman. But consider what you'd be walking away from. Not just the restored reputation and career opportunities, but everything we could build together."

She needs to understand: This isn't just an offer—it's the only path forward.

"What are you getting out of this?" she asks, exhausted and frustrated.

I step closer, drinking in her presence. "You," I say simply. The word hangs between us. "The partnership only works if you're here. Living here."

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