Ananya POV_....

Footsteps.

I heard them, slow, heavy, deadly. My body started trembling. The footsteps stopped at the door. I gulped, fear curling deep in my gut. The room was soaked in darkness, shadows clinging to every corner like a damn curse.

Then..he pushed the door open.

A spill of golden light from the hallway bled in, slicing through the darkness like a blade. I saw his figure... and I closed my eyes.

The door shut behind him with a soft click, echoing through the room like a warning.

And then. In a second, he was hovering over me.

His breath hot, sharp was hitting my lips.

Before I could move, he snatched the blanket away from my body like he owned every inch of it.

He pressed his lips to my neck, slow, firm, claiming. His warm breath spilled over my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. Then his lips parted, and he began to suck, slow at first... then deeper. I moaned, in pain  curling in my throat, my fingers tightening in the sheets.

His hand slid beneath my top, teasing my skin until his fingers found my belly button, playing with it like it was his fucking toy. My breath hitched.

His lips trailed up slow, teasing....grazing over my jaw, brushing my cheek, until they reached my ear. He lingered there, breathing against it, making my legs weak... and then, finally, his lips found mine.

The moment our mouths met, he grabbed my waist, pulling me hard against him. The kiss wasn't soft. It was wild, hungry, desperate. He devoured my lips like a starving wolf, growling low into my mouth, fucking breathless.

And then...his hand tangled in my hair, yanking just enough to make me whimper, as he deepened the kiss even more, swallowing every sound I made, owning every inch of me like I belonged to no one but him.

His hand slid up from my belly to my chest, slow but deliberate. He cupped my breasts through the fabric, squeezing gently at first, then harder, rougher like he couldn't get enough of me. All the while, his lips stayed locked with mine, kissing me like he was fucking starved.

Then....he broke the kiss. Just for a breath.

Without a word, he pulled my top over my head and tossed it aside like it meant nothing. His lips trailed lower, burning down my body, kissing over my ribs, my waist....leaving a path of fire wherever he touched.

And then he came back up, eyes dark, wild... one hand unclasping my bra with a swift flick.

His mouth found my bare skin instantly...lips, tongue, teeth sucking my nipples like I was the only goddamn thing that could satisfy him. I gasped, arching into him, my hands grabbing onto him.

I cried... silently.

The tears burned behind my eyes, but I didn't let a single sound escape. I couldn't.
Not a gasp, not a whimper, not even a breath too loud.
Because if he heard me cry...he'd get rougher. He always did.

I remembered the first night.
The way I screamed.
The way he warned me with a cold, merciless voice, "Don't cry."
But I did.
And he punished me for it.

That memory was carved into my skin, my mind, my soul.

So now, I stayed still.
As he pulled my pants down slowly, then slipped off my panties, I felt my breath catch in my throat.
I couldn't stop shaking, even though I told myself to stay still... to be silent.

His hands roamed over me, touching the most vulnerable parts of me like they were his to own. My back arched against the cold air, against his touch, against the fear I couldn't bury.

Then he moved over me.
One finger slipped inside me.
Then another.
Slow, deep, uninvited.
I clenched my fists into the sheets, biting my lip until I tasted blood just to stop myself from crying out.

And just like that... he pulled back.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then I heard the soft rustle of clothes falling to the floor.

I didn't open my eyes.
I didn't want to see him.
I didn't want to see what was about to happen.
So I shut them tighter, waiting... praying for it to be over before it even began.

..........

Morning came like a slap.

The light spilled in through the window, soft and golden, but nothing about it felt warm.
I opened my eyes slowly.
He was gone.

The bed beside me was empty...no trace of him, like a nightmare that vanished with the dark.
Except... it wasn't a dream.

My body told the truth.

I ached. Deep in my core. Every movement hurt, every breath was sharp.
My thighs trembled when I tried to sit up, and I collapsed back into the bed.

Tears slid down my cheeks, quiet and endless, as I buried my face into the pillow. I cried hard, but still not loud. Never loud.

Because even though he was gone... I was terrified he might hear me.
And if he did...if he came back

I didn't think I'd survive it again.

-------

AUTHOR POV_

The alarm buzzed sharply, echoing through the grand, luxurious bedroom.

Ryan Romano groaned, rolling over in his king-sized bed, sheets tangled around his toned, aching body. The soft morning light filtered in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, brushing over the sleek marble floors and the modern black-and-gold décor of his penthouse suite.

He sat up slowly, wincing.

Every damn morning, it was the same.
Pain. Deep, dull, stubborn pain in his muscles...like his past refused to let go of him, even in sleep.
He groaned, stretching his arms, rubbing the back of his neck before pushing himself off the bed.

But today... today the pain didn't matter.

Because today, he was going to see her.

He moved through his morning routine with a rare energy, quickly showering, getting dressed in one of his signature tailored suits. That devilish smirk crept onto his lips the moment he glanced at his reflection in the mirror...because he knew exactly who he was.

Ryan Romano.
Billionaire. CEO. Untouchable to most.
But completely, utterly devoted to one woman.

Anna.

She was his soft spot.  The only chaos he welcomed in his meticulously controlled world.

He'd met her at a charity gala a woman with fire in her eyes and grace in her movements. She wasn't trying to impress anyone. She didn't care about his name, his wealth, or his damn power. She owned a small business, stood on her own, and looked him straight in the eyes without fear.

And that's when she got him.

From that night on, he couldn't stay away. They kept crossing paths...on purpose, by accident, through fate or design. And each time, she pulled him in deeper.

Until one evening, in the middle of a rooftop garden under the stars... he got down on one knee and proposed. No grand announcement, no cameras...just the two of them and a ring he designed just for her.

She said yes.

And now, every morning, no matter the pain... he woke up with one thing on his mind:

Anna.

After finishing his breakfast, Ryan was headed back toward his office when a sudden, loud crash echoed through the penthouse.

He froze.

The sound came from the farthest corner of the estate...an old room he'd never paid attention to before. It was tucked away so discreetly, his eyes had barely ever landed on it... until now.

Brows furrowed, Ryan made his way toward the door.

It looked like any other room plain, quiet, untouched. But something felt off.
He grabbed the handle and tried to open it.

Click.
It didn't budge.

He twisted it again. Nothing.

Locked.

Ryan stared at the door a moment longer, his jaw tightening, something deep in his gut twisting. Still, after a few seconds, he let out a slow breath and stepped back, deciding not to force it...for now. He turned and walked away.

But inside that room...
Ananya was barely holding herself up.

Her legs trembled violently beneath her, her body sore and weak. She'd been trying to stand, to crawl, to move, when her elbow knocked against the table. The lamp teetered...then crashed to the ground, shattering into pieces.

She froze.
Completely still.
Eyes wide. Heart pounding.

And then, she heard it.
The doorknob. Jiggling. Someone trying to open it.
She sucked in a sharp breath.

"No... no... please, God," she whispered, barely able to form the words through her panic. "I can't take more... I can't..."

Tears streamed silently down her face. Her shoulders trembled, but she didn't make a sound. Her hands clutched her chest, bracing for pain, bracing for him.

But then... silence.

The sound of the handle stopped. No banging. No voice. No keys.
Nothing.

The stillness returned like a heavy blanket, suffocating the room once again.

Ananya exhaled shakily, her chest rising and falling. Relief flickered in her eyes, even as fresh tears slid down her cheeks.

For now, she was safe.