Elijah lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling of his apartment.
His body still burned from Dominic's touch, his words, his presence.
"You already belong to me."
A shiver ran through him. He hated how much that affected him.
With a frustrated groan, he turned over, burying his face into the pillow. This was insane. He barely knew Dominic—hell, he was supposed to hate him. The man was controlling, arrogant, and dangerous.
And yet…
Why did he feel like every time he was with Dominic, he was on the edge of something he couldn't escape from?
His phone buzzed, snapping him from his thoughts.
Adrian.
Adrian: Yo, you alive?
Adrian: Or did the mafia boss eat you whole?
Adrian: Wait. Don't answer that. I don't wanna know.
Elijah snorted, shaking his head as he typed back.
Elijah: Still breathing. Barely.
A moment later, Adrian replied.
Adrian: Good. Now get your ass out of that apartment. We're going out tomorrow. You need air before your mafia prince locks you in a castle or some shit.
Elijah rolled his eyes but couldn't help the small smile forming on his lips.
Maybe Adrian was right.
Maybe he needed a break from all of this—Dominic, the chaos, the constant push and pull.
He exhaled slowly, ignoring the way his body still felt the ghost of Dominic's touch.
Tomorrow, he'd go out.
Tomorrow, he'd breathe.
Tomorrow, he'd remind himself that he wasn't Dominic Moretti's possession.
…Right?
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