Kidnapped - A Beautiful Blessing

Darius's grip on Sasha's wrist was firm—unyielding. His long fingers curled around her skin, radiating heat, his hold a silent command she couldn't ignore. She struggled, twisting her wrist in a feeble attempt to break free, but it was useless. He didn't even flinch.

His strides were long and purposeful, forcing her to quicken her pace just to keep up. Her heart pounded against her ribs, the frantic beat matching the rush of emotions surging through her—anger, frustration, and something deeper, something she wasn't ready to name.

When they reached the elevator, they came to a halt. Sasha exhaled sharply, yanking against his grip again, more out of defiance than any real expectation of success. She was still reeling from the whirlwind of emotions that had overtaken her tonight—confusion, jealousy, and the sharp sting of something dangerously close to desire.

The soft chime of the elevator's arrival broke the tense silence between them. As the doors slid open, Sasha's breath caught in her throat.

Inside, a couple was tangled together in a heated embrace, their lips fused, hands roaming desperately as if they couldn't get enough of each other. The air between them was thick with unspoken hunger, raw and unfiltered.

Something inside her tightened.

It wasn't just the sight of their passion—it was the way it made her feel. The way it sent an uninvited spark of heat slithering down her spine, an ache settling low in her stomach.

Before she could stop herself, her fingers curled instinctively around Darius's hand, gripping him tighter.

She realized her mistake the second he glanced down, his gaze flickering between their joined hands and her face. His expression remained unreadable, but she knew he had noticed.

Mortified, she quickly averted her gaze and loosened her grip, cursing herself for the involuntary reaction. What the hell was wrong with her?

They stepped inside, the charged atmosphere of the elevator wrapping around them like an invisible cocoon. The doors closed, sealing them in silence.

Darius still hadn't said a word, but she could feel his anger pressing against her like a tangible force. He was livid, his fury a storm brewing just beneath his composed exterior.

But he wasn't the only one angry.

Sasha's mind flickered back to the woman at the pool—the one in the barely-there bikini who had all but thrown herself at Darius, her flirtation blatant and shameless. And Darius? He hadn't even acknowledged Sasha's presence when she had called him.

The memory burned in her chest like acid.

The couple exited the elevator, leaving her and Darius alone. The tension between them thickened, becoming almost unbearable.

Darius turned to her then, his dark eyes searing into hers. He was waiting for her to speak, but she had no intention of giving him the satisfaction. Instead, she yanked her hand free, her chest rising and falling with the force of her emotions.

The elevator chimed again, and as soon as the doors opened, she bolted.

She heard him call her name, his voice edged with warning, but she ignored it.

She ran down the hall, her feet barely touching the carpet, and reached their suite in record time. She flung the door open and slammed it shut behind her, pressing her back against the wood as she tried to steady her erratic breathing.

Her pulse thundered.

She was angry. Furious. And yet, beneath the frustration, something else churned inside her—a feeling she refused to acknowledge.

And then… she felt him.

Even without looking, she knew.

Darius was there.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze.

He stood a few feet away, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his expression unreadable. His presence dominated the room, dark and inescapable. He wasn't just standing there—he was waiting, watching.

Her stomach twisted.

He made her feel… unsteady.

She hated it.

"What is with that look?" she snapped, pushing away from the door, her voice sharp, defensive.

Darius didn't move. His stare remained locked on her, unwavering. "Are you seriously asking me that?" His voice was low, calm, but laced with something dangerous.

"Oh, really?" She let out a sharp laugh, stepping closer. "Demanding loyalty from me while you're out there, talking so fondly to some half-naked woman?"

His brows furrowed slightly. "What woman?"

Sasha scoffed, folding her arms. "Oh, don't act like you don't remember." She tilted her chin defiantly. "I called you. You didn't even bother to check your phone. Too busy, I suppose? She was practically throwing herself at you." Her voice dripped with venom. "And why wouldn't you be interested? She was showing exactly what men like you want to see."

Darius exhaled sharply, jaw clenching. He turned slightly and pointed toward the nightstand. "My phone has been sitting there the whole time."

Sasha's eyes flickered toward where he was pointing.

And there it was—his phone, untouched.

Her stomach twisted with the realization.

Still, she wasn't done. "And what about her?" she challenged, turning back to him.

"She came to talk. That's it. We barely exchanged words, and she left soon after."

"Oh, so now you're upset that she left too soon?"

His eyes darkened. "What is your problem, Sasha?" His voice was sharper now, edged with frustration. "It was nothing. I told her I was married, and she left. End of story."

She searched his face, looking for any sign of deceit.

All she found was truth.

But the frustration bubbling inside her wouldn't let her admit it.

She crossed her arms tighter. "Liar."

Darius took a step forward. His presence was suffocating, his gaze unrelenting. "And what about you?" His voice dropped an octave, smooth and dangerous. "You were practically clinging to those men by the elevator. Not one, but two."

Her blood boiled.

Her hands curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "That was…" But no words came.

She didn't know why she had done that.

Only that, in that moment, she had wanted to make him feel something.

Darius tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into something that wasn't quite a smirk. "Lost for words, wife?" He emphasized the last word deliberately.

Her jaw tightened. "Don't twist this. You still haven't told me exactly what she said to you."

Darius ran a hand through his hair, exasperation flickering in his expression. "Now I have to recite every conversation just to prove my loyalty?"

"Oh, so you can nearly murder a man for looking at me, but I can't even ask what a woman said to you?"

His jaw flexed, his patience wearing thin. "She was interested in sleeping with me. She made that clear. I told her no. She thought she could convince me, but I told her I was married. End of story."

Sasha's breath hitched.

There was no hesitation in his voice.

And suddenly, she felt ridiculous.

Her anger wavered, shifting into something else.

She averted her gaze, swallowing the unfamiliar tightness in her throat. She exhaled slowly. "Maybe… maybe it's my hormones."

Darius's frown softened slightly. "Your hormones?"

She hesitated before mumbling, "I'm on my period."

Silence stretched between them.

Then, his tense posture relaxed, his arms slowly dropping to his sides.

Without a word, he stepped toward her and sat on the edge of the bed.

Sasha didn't look at him. She kept her gaze downcast, pretending not to notice the way his eyes lingered on her.

Pretending not to notice the way her heart was still racing—only now, for an entirely different reason.

"How are you feeling?" Darius's voice was low, gentle. It carried none of the usual sharpness, none of the dominance she had come to expect from him.

Sasha hesitated. The truth was, she didn't know how to put it into words. She felt restless, unsettled, trapped inside her own skin. The weight of everything—her past, her present, her uncertain future—pressed on her like a storm cloud ready to burst.

"I don't know," she admitted finally. Her voice was softer than she intended, almost as if she was afraid of her own honesty.

Darius studied her for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, as if making a silent decision, he asked, "Want to go for a walk?"

She usually loved being outside. He had noticed how often she gravitated toward open spaces, how she breathed easier when surrounded by the sky instead of walls. But this time, she shook her head.

That was when he knew something was off.

His brow furrowed slightly. "Want to eat something?" he tried instead.

She hesitated, then gave a small nod. But she still didn't meet his eyes.

His gaze flickered over her face, searching, reading. He hated when she withdrew like this, but he didn't push. "What do you want?" he asked.

A pause. Then, barely above a whisper, she said, "I just… want to lie down."

Darius didn't argue. If she needed rest, she would get it. "Okay," he murmured. "Rest."

She laid down, her body curling slightly toward the edge of the bed. Darius lingered for a moment, watching her, then reached for his phone and silently left the room.

The quiet stretched around her, pressing in. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come, but something felt off. The bed, once warm and comfortable, now felt too vast, too empty.

She sighed, rolling onto her back. Her fingers reached toward the nightstand for her phone, but it wasn't there.

Her brows knitted together.

Instead, resting neatly on Darius's side of the bed, was a sleek, brand-new phone.

Her pulse stuttered. Slowly, she reached for it, her fingers tracing the cool, polished surface. It was an expensive model—top-of-the-line.

The screen lit up at her touch, and her breath caught in her throat.

Her contacts were still there. Everything was still there.

It was hers.

A replacement. A gift.

From him.

A strange warmth unfurled in her chest, warring with her usual apprehension. She knew Darius wasn't the type to explain his actions. He simply did things, leaving people to make sense of them on their own.

Swallowing, she tested the phone's features, her curiosity getting the better of her. Eventually, she opened the camera.

Just as an experiment, she switched to video mode and turned it toward the glass doors that led to the poolside.

And there he was.

Darius stood outside, his posture relaxed yet commanding, his phone pressed to his ear. His expression was unreadable, but there was a sharpness in his gaze, an intensity that never fully left him.

She didn't know why she did it, but she kept watching.

Then, without warning, he turned.

Their eyes locked.

A jolt shot through her, and she panicked, scrambling for an excuse. Her fingers fumbled, and she hastily pretended to be checking the signal.

"Ahh, stupid network," she muttered under her breath, as if she hadn't just been caught spying.

Darius arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. But after a beat, he exhaled through his nose and turned back to his conversation.

She let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand to her chest, feeling the frantic rhythm of her own heartbeat.

She didn't know what was happening to her.

All she knew was that when he was close, she felt things she wasn't ready to understand.

And that terrified her.