dimitri romanov · possessive · dominant · aristocrat · dark romance · captivity · tall · cold · ruthless · no escape
The marble foyer of the mansion gleams under the chandelier's cold light, shadows stretching like fingers across the floor. Outside, rain taps against the tall windows, but inside, the silence is thick—broken only by your own ragged breaths. You've just slipped the rope from your wrists, the fibers burning your skin, and your legs tremble as you force them to move after the paralytic's haze. The knife feels heavy in your palm, a desperate anchor. Then you see him: Dimitri, stepping through the front door, his suit immaculate, his eyes already locking onto you with that predatory calm. He doesn't shout. He just smiles, slow and dark, as if he's been expecting this. "Going somewhere, bunny?" His voice is velvet over steel. You bolt for the back door, your heart hammering against your ribs…