Kidnapped - A Beautiful Blessing

**"Darius, wait."**

He halted mid-step, his broad shoulders going rigid before he turned to face her. His gaze was steady, unreadable, as if already anticipating whatever she had to say.

Sasha hesitated, her fingers twitching at her sides. She had never been good at asking for help, especially from him. But she had no choice. Her hands, still raw from earlier wounds, trembled slightly as she swallowed her pride.

**"Can you... as you know, my fingers are wounded, and I can't manage on my own. So, could you help me put on my clothes?"**

A charged silence stretched between them. His expression remained impassive, but there was something almost imperceptible in the way his gaze lingered on her—an unspoken challenge, a hesitation too brief to grasp.

Then, in that low, measured voice of his, he asked, **"Where are they?"**

She exhaled, relieved that he hadn't refused outright.

**"In the closet."** She gestured toward the wooden doors across the room.

Darius didn't reply. Instead, he moved, his steps unhurried yet purposeful, as if this was nothing more than another simple task to complete. She followed him instinctively, her bare feet padding softly against the floor.

Midway, he paused briefly to return the first-aid kit to the drawer, his movements practiced and efficient. He then pulled out his phone, checking the screen for a fleeting second before tucking it away.

When he finally reached the closet, he stepped inside without hesitation.

And then—

**He shut the door behind them.**

Sasha stiffened at the quiet click of the door closing.

The space inside was smaller than she remembered. Or maybe it just felt that way with him standing so close. His presence was overwhelming in the confined space, the air suddenly thick with an awareness neither of them acknowledged.

Her grip tightened on the edges of her silk robe.

**"Before you come near,"** she ordered, her voice betraying none of her unease, **"blindfold yourself with something from the shelf."**

A slow exhale escaped him. **"I won't look. I promise."**

Sasha scoffed. **"How thoughtful. Just do what I said."**

A pause. Then, after what felt like deliberation, he murmured, **"Fine. I'll keep my eyes shut until you say otherwise. Does that work?"**

She hesitated.

Her distrust was instinctive. Yet, as she risked a glance over her shoulder, she found him already standing behind her—too close. The heat radiating from him ghosted over the nape of her neck, stirring a rush of goosebumps down her spine.

She turned abruptly, heart hammering.

His eyes were shut.

Her breath hitched. She had expected resistance, sarcasm—anything but this silent compliance.

**"Where are your clothes?"** His voice was calm, unaffected.

Sasha forced herself to move.

Reaching for the shelf, she grabbed the simplest thing she could find—a one-piece dress, loose-fitting and easy to slip into. She dropped the fabric into his outstretched hand before instinctively retreating a step, her gaze locked onto him.

But he didn't move.

He only held the dress, waiting for her next cue.

Just as she prepared to lift the neckline over her head, a thought crept in, unbidden and unsettling.

Her brows furrowed. **"How did you know I was changing my robe?"**

Darius didn't answer right away. But something in his stance shifted—just enough for her to notice.

**"You waited at the exact moment,"** she continued, her voice quiet but sharp. **"As if you saw everything."**

For the first time, amusement flickered over his lips. A slow, dangerous curve, just shy of a smirk.

**"I didn't,"** he said evenly. **"But if you accuse me again, I won't mind proving you right."**

Her stomach flipped.

Sasha bit down on her lower lip, cursing herself for playing into his hands.

**"Now hurry up,"** he added, his tone edged with impatience.

She pressed her lips together and obeyed, fingers working at the knot of her robe. The silk loosened, then slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet in a quiet sigh of fabric.

She stole another glance at him.

His eyes remained shut.

And yet—

A strange sensation stirred within her.

She had looked at him countless times before. Had studied the sharp angles of his face, the cut of his jaw, the way his expression barely betrayed anything beneath.

Yet now, standing before him in the dim light, she found herself wanting to memorize every detail.

To confirm the exact shade of his eyes. Were they hazel-brown? A deep black? Or something in between?

She tried to recall. But suddenly, her memory failed her.

Lost in thought, she barely noticed the way he moved.

With an ease that made her breath catch, Darius reached forward, guiding the dress over her head. His fingers, calloused yet careful, brushed against her bare back as he adjusted the fabric into place.

A slow, unbidden shiver traveled through her.

Her breathing turned uneven.

And still, his eyes stayed closed.

Hesitantly, without thinking, she raised a hand.

Her fingertips hovered just inches from his cheek.

It was reckless. Senseless. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to pull away.

Then—

**"It's done."**

His voice shattered the silence.

Startled, her fingers grazed his cheek before she could stop herself.

A fleeting touch. A whisper of warmth.

And in that moment—

Darius opened his eyes.

Sasha froze.

His gaze bore into hers, intense, unreadable. Black. Not just any black, but a deep abyss of nothingness. It wasn't the kind of darkness that simply existed—it pulled, devoured, consumed. A void without end.

Sasha barely registered the words before they slipped past her lips. **"Your eyes... they're black."**

The moment she heard herself speak, regret struck her like a whip. She hadn't meant to say it. Not out loud.

Her palm was still resting against his cheek, the warmth of his skin seeping into her fingers. The sensation burned now, as though she had touched something forbidden.

Realization crashed over her, sending her reeling. Her breath hitched as she stumbled backward, putting space between them, her eyes wide with embarrassment.

Darius didn't react. Not in anger, not in amusement—nothing. He merely watched her, the weight of his gaze making her stomach tighten. Then, without a single word, he turned and left the closet.

Just like that.

Sasha exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her chest as if to steady her heart. But it was useless—it pounded erratically, her body still thrumming with the tension of his presence.

She stayed there for a moment, listening to his footsteps fade into the distance before forcing herself to move.

The rest of the day, she avoided him.

When he brought her lunch, she feigned sleep, keeping her breathing slow and even. The scent of warm bread and something savory drifted through the air, making her stomach clench, but she refused to open her eyes. She heard him set the tray down, linger for a second longer than necessary, and then leave.

Only then did she dare peek.

The food remained untouched. Her phone lay beside her, its screen dark. She picked it up, scrolling aimlessly, pretending she had something important to do—something that didn't involve thinking about him.

But no matter how hard she tried, the image of his gaze, dark and consuming, wouldn't leave her mind.

At some point, exhaustion won over pretense. Her body grew heavy, her thoughts drifting into a hazy lull. Sleep pulled her under, swallowing her whole.

When she awoke, the late afternoon sun painted golden streaks across the room. She blinked, adjusting to the warm glow that filtered through the window.

Reaching for her phone, she checked the time. Five o'clock.

The room was quiet. Empty.

Darius was nowhere in sight.

A part of her told her to stay put, to keep the distance she had fought to maintain all day. But another part—one she refused to acknowledge—wondered where he was.

Her feet moved before she could convince herself otherwise. She stepped cautiously toward the door, each movement deliberate, hesitant.

Then she saw him.

Darius stood by the pool, his posture relaxed yet unreadable. The setting sun cast deep shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw, the broad line of his shoulders. His black shirt clung to him, the fabric molding to his form as if sculpted for him alone.

Sasha froze.

Something about the way he stood—silent, alone—unsettled her. It wasn't sadness, not exactly. But there was something haunting in the way he watched the water, as if searching for answers in its rippling surface.

She stepped back, moving carefully so as not to be seen, retreating toward the window instead.

The evening breeze curled around her, cool against her skin. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a brief moment, allowing the air to settle inside her chest.

When she opened them again, her gaze landed on a nearby tree, where two pigeons perched on a low-hanging branch.

One of the birds nudged the other, pressing its beak against its companion's feathers in a way that seemed almost affectionate. The second bird attempted to shift away, flinching slightly at the contact, but the first one refused to be ignored. It pecked persistently, insistently, until the other finally relented, settling into the touch.

Sasha's lips curled into a soft smile. A quiet giggle escaped her.

It was a small thing—insignificant, even. But somehow, the sight of the birds eased something inside her, if only for a moment.

Because, for the briefest second, she wasn't thinking about the man by the pool. Or his unreadable eyes. Or the way her heart had betrayed her in his presence.

Just for a second.

The deep timbre of his voice sent a jolt through her, cutting through the silence like a blade.

**"Why didn't you eat this afternoon?"**

Sasha turned her head sharply, her heart stuttering in her chest. Darius stood beside her, his presence as commanding as ever. His expression was unreadable, as it often was, his dark eyes locked onto her with quiet intensity.

Her faint smile vanished.

She hadn't even noticed him approach. Had he been watching her all this time?

For a moment, she hesitated, unsure how to answer. Then, she settled for a dismissive, **"I wasn't in the mood."**

Darius didn't respond immediately. He simply observed her, his gaze lingering as if trying to unravel something unseen.

Then, after a pause, he asked, **"Was it because of the pain?"**

Sasha blinked. A flicker of surprise crossed her face.

She hadn't expected him to notice.

Her instinct was to deny it, to brush past the concern laced in his words. Instead, she shook her head. **"No… I just needed rest."**

Darius studied her for another long moment before shifting his attention back toward the horizon. The sun had begun its slow descent, casting the sky in streaks of gold and amber.

Sasha exhaled quietly, her shoulders relaxing.

She found herself staring at him, taking in the sharp angles of his face, the way the evening light softened the edges of his otherwise formidable presence.

Then, before he could catch her watching, she quickly turned away.

To break the silence, she asked, **"Why are we here?"**

Darius didn't look at her as he answered, **"Consider it a short trip."**

Her brows furrowed. **"Short trip?"**

**"We'll leave after two weeks."**

Sasha crossed her arms, not entirely convinced. **"And who will handle your business while you're gone?"**

Darius remained as composed as ever. **"Leon and my men will manage."**

She frowned. **"But Leon has to be with Lea. She's pregnant."**

**"I know,"** Darius said smoothly, as if he had already anticipated her concern. **"It's not like she's delivering the baby now. Leon just has to oversee things and make sure nothing happens behind my back."**

Sasha considered this, tapping her fingers against her arm.

Then, after a beat, she said, **"We should take something for their baby. We didn't even attend the baby shower."**

Darius gave a slight shrug. **"That's because Leon postponed it."**

Sasha's eyes widened slightly. **"Why?"**

**"Lea was worried it was too soon. She didn't want to announce it publicly just yet."**

Sasha nodded, understanding the hesitation. **"Do they have a new date?"**

**"Sometime during her second trimester. It's not fixed yet."**

She hummed thoughtfully, considering their options. **"What should we get them?"**

Darius smirked. **"A toy? A bottle?"**

She scoffed. **"How about a crib ? Babies love being rocked. Lea would love it too."**

For the first time, something like amusement flickered across Darius's face. His head tilted slightly as he regarded her. **"How do you know that?"**

Sasha smiled knowingly. **"I'm a girl. I just know."**

He shook his head slightly, his lips twitching as if suppressing a smirk. **"Are you friends with her already?"**

Sasha hesitated. Then, after a moment, she said, **"Yeah… kind of."**

She wasn't sure when it had happened, but she had grown to like Lea. There was something about her—her quiet strength, the way she carried herself—that made it easy to trust her.

Sasha hesitated before asking, **"How long have you been friends with Leon?"**

Darius's expression softened, just slightly. It was barely noticeable, but Sasha caught it. **"Almost my entire life."**

There was something wistful in the way he said it, a rare glimpse into the past he never spoke about.

Something about that made her sad.

**"That's sweet,"** she murmured, meaning it.

Darius glanced at her then, his gaze unreadable. **"What about you? Have you had any real friends?"**

Sasha exhaled a laugh, tilting her head at him. **"Many. Unlike you."**

Darius let out a short, genuine laugh.

It was so unexpected, so unlike the Darius she knew, that she found herself staring.

At that moment, he looked different.

Not the ruthless man the world feared.

Not the Darius who had taken her to Paris and declared she would be his wife.

Not the one she had sworn to hate.

He looked… alive.

And for reasons she couldn't explain, that realization unsettled her more than anything else.