Chapter 28 - Stolen Night...

Content Warning:

This chapter contains graphic sexual content, emotional coercion, and manipulation, including scenes where consent becomes blurred.

If these themes are uncomfortable for you, please feel free to skip or skim the intimate sections — the emotional and plot consequences will still be clear in the next chapter.

I tried to keep it as minimal as it could be. Please bare it with me🫣

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My girl just needs to worry about me."

My girl just needs to worry about me?

The words wrapped around her like silk and barbed wire all at once.

She felt the hard press of his body against her, undeniable, insistent — and panic flickered somewhere deep in her stomach.

Her mind whispered warning after warning.

Too fast. Too deep. Too much too soon.

But her heart trembling, exhausted, desperate for something steady after a day of spiraling, whispered back:

He chose you. Trust him. Don't ruin this again.

Nathan's breath brushed her ear, low and rough enough to make her knees soften.

"I want you, baby…"

His hand tightened on her stomach, drawing her closer.

"…just the way you came to me last time."

Her breath caught.

He spoke as if last time had been a choice she made freely, as if her panic and desire and confusion had all been part of something she controlled, not something he guided her through with quiet command.

What is happening to me?

His voice deepened.

"Come here. Live in this moment with me… just us. No interruptions. No one else in your head."

His hand slid across her waist — slow, deliberate, sending shivers spiraling down her spine.

But her stomach clenched at the same time.

Not with desire.

With something else.

Something that felt like falling.

She ignored it.

Elena swallowed hard, heart racing.

He wants me.

The thought hit her like heat, like sunlight breaking through fog.

But another voice rose underneath it, fragile and scared:

This is too fast…

Too deep…

Too soon…!!!

Her body leaned back into him before she even realized it, craving the comfort he offered, terrified of losing it if she hesitated.

Her mind kept trying to speak.

You need time.

You need space to think.

You're overwhelmed.

You're tired.

Don't do it Elena! Control yourself!

But his arms were already around her.

His breath already on her neck.

His presence already drowning out the noise.

"Elena…" he murmured, his tone soft and rough and devastating.

"You're safe here. With me.."

Her pulse stuttered.

Safe here?

Wanted!

Chosen?

Chosen!

But her hands were shaking.

She pressed them flat against his chest, trying to steady them, trying to steady herself.

All the words she had been starved of for years — finally handed to her by the one person who made the world feel dizzy and sharp and beautiful all at once.

He chose me!

He talks about my future… with him?

He turned her gently, tilting her chin so she'd look at him.

Their faces inches apart.

His eyes burned into hers, not cruelly, not coldly, but with a hunger wrapped in tenderness, a need wrapped in softness, a desire wrapped in possession.

And in that moment, she felt it:

The part of her that wanted to run.

The part of her that wanted to stay.

The part of her that didn't know the difference anymore.

Her breath trembled against his.

"I…" she whispered, shaking. "Nathan… today was— I'm not sure—"

He cut her off gently, thumb brushing her cheek.

"Don't think."

His forehead pressed to hers.

"Just feel."

Nathan's hands moved to the zipper of her dress.

Elena's hand shot up, catching his wrist.

"Wait—" she breathed.

He stilled immediately.

Didn't pull away.

Didn't push forward.

Just held her gaze.

She could see the need in them. The want present evidently on his face.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked softly.

"I just—" Her voice shook. "Today was a lot. I'm tired. I'm not sure I—"

She couldn't think properly, the words somehow sounded more like a plea, a request from her mouth.

"Hey." He cupped her face gently. "Look at me."

She did. Some unrecognisable satisfied look on his face.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," he said.

The words sounded perfect.

Safe.

Respectful.

But his thumb traced her bottom lip as he said it.

And his other hand stayed at her zipper.

And his eyes held hers with an intensity that made looking away impossible.

"I just want to hold you," he murmured in a rough voice. "Be close to you. That's all."

She swallowed. "That's all?" She asked looking deep in his eyes, searching for anything wrong but couldn't find any.

He means it!

"That's all," he promised.

The lie was so gentle she almost didn't feel it wrap around her throat.

"Okay," she whispered.

The word felt small.

Final.

Like stepping off a ledge she couldn't see the bottom of.

Nathan's smile softened, victorious and tender all at once.

"That's my girl," he murmured.

And something in her chest both warmed and froze at those words.

My girl.

Claimed.

Wanted.

His?

She wanted to feel happy about it.

She tried to feel happy about it.

But underneath the warmth, something whispered:

What did I just agree to?

He kissed her forehead.

Then her temple.

Then the corner of her jaw.

"Just let me take care of you," he whispered against her skin.

His hands moved to her shoulders, kneading gently.

Tension melted under his touch.

"You've been carrying so much," he murmured.

"Let it go. Just for tonight."

Let it… go?

Just for tonight?

What the hell is going on?

Before she could say anything, the massage moved lower, to her back, fingertips tracing her spine through the dress.

She exhaled shakily.

It did feel good.

Safe.

Caring.

Her body began to betray her.

"That's it," he breathed. "Just relax."

The zipper slid down an inch.

Then another.

She noticed but didn't stop him. Couldn't!

The zipper slid lower, deliberate, each inch a quiet invitation. 

It felt like care, like gentleness, yet the weight of his gaze made it impossible not to feel the possession beneath it.

But it still felt like care, not demand.

Because she was tired of being the one who always said no.

Because maybe this was what trust looked like…

Letting someone else lead when you were too exhausted to navigate yourself.

Like she could always trust Adrian blind!

Like I can trust Nathan now!

The dress slipped off her shoulders.

Cool air hit her skin.

Her skin tingled where his fingertips traced, the contrast of cool air and his warmth making her shiver. Every brush felt less like contact and more like a claim, subtle but undeniable.

Panic fluttered in her mind.

"Nat-han—" her voice trembled.

"Shh." His hands stilled again. "Talk to me. What are you feeling?"

What am I feeling?

What…am…I…feeling?

Broken btw conflicting thoughts.

Divided between the right and the wrong!

Trying to break-free from these unknown terrifying thoughts.

You wouldn't wanna know what I am feeling right now!

"I don't know," she whispered. "Scared? Nervous? I—"

"Of me?" he asked quietly, something like hurt flickering in his eyes.

"No! Not you. Just… everything. Today. Adrian. My parents coming back soon. I—"

"Elena." He turned her to face him fully. "All of that? It's out there. It's not in this room."

His forehead pressed to hers.

"In here, it's just us. Just this. Nothing else matters."

He was right.

Wasn't he?

Out there was chaos.

Judgment.

Pressure.

Expectations.

In here was warmth.

Wanting.

Being wanted.

"You're overthinking," he murmured. "And I understand why. The world has given you a thousand reasons not to trust. Not to feel. Not to want."

His hands framed her face.

"But I'm not the world, baby. I'm yours to cherish. I promise you'll remember these moments forever. Just loosen yourself up a little… okay?"

Something in her chest cracked.

Because she wanted that to be trueso badly it hurt.

"Okay," she whispered.

"Okay?" He asked again as if he was asking for one final time.

She nodded, even though her hands were still trembling.

"Ok-ayy."

After that, everything blurred.

His hands.

His mouth.

The dress falling away.

He guided her toward the bed, movements slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world.

Like he passionate about it…

Like he wanted this to happen for long… longer than her.

Like she wasn't coming apart at the seams.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against her collarbone.

His lips moved slowly along her jaw, unhurried, devastating in their patience. 

Each kiss was a question disguised as tenderness, and her body answered before her mind could catch up.

Her body responded—

heat, shivers, gasps she couldn't control.

Her hands pressed against his chest, not to push him away but to steady herself, betrayingthe conflict she couldn't voice. 

The tremor in her fingers felt like both resistance and need.

But her mind…

Her mind went somewhere else.

Somewhere quiet.

Somewhere distant.

She heard herself making sounds.

Felt herself moving.

Watched her hands reach for him like they belonged to someone else.

Was this desire?

Or just the path of least resistance?

She couldn't tell anymore.

And maybe that was okay.

Maybe not knowing is safer than knowing…

His hands moved over her skin, learning, claiming, patient but relentless.

"Good girl," he whispered against her throat.

And she felt nothing.

Everything.

Nothing.

The words that used to make her feel cherished now just felt like…

Instructions.

Something so weak inside her couldn't dare to object.

So she followed them anyway.

Because stopping would mean thinking.

And thinking would mean feeling.

And feeling would mean facing what she'd just agreed to.

His weight settled over her.

Her breath caught.

Everything sharpened suddenly,

the press of his body,

the heat of his skin,

the way he was looking at her like she was something precious and already his.

"Stay with me," he murmured, brushing hair from her face.

She doesn't care what was happening anymore, she was too exhausted to even think. 

She felt numb but somehow alive?

She nodded even though she wasn't sure where she'd gone.

His hands on her thighs.

She felt it.

Didn't she?

Yes.

No.

Maybe.

The ceiling had a water stain.

When did that get there?

"Elena, look at me."

She did.

His eyes were dark.

Hungry.

Beautiful.

Terrifying.

She smiled.

She thought she smiled.

She wasn't sure.

Pain.

Pain?

Pain!

Sharp enough to cut through the fog.

Her breath hitched, body tensing instinctively. She couldn't breathe through the pain.

"Wait—"

"Shh, I've got you, let me have you. Breathe through it."

"It hurts—"

"I know, baby. It'll pass in no time. Just relax."

His voice was soft.

Soothing.

Certain.

Like he knew her body better than she did.

Should she say stop?

The word was right there.

One syllable.

Easy…?

But his hand was in her hair.

And his voice was soft.

And stopping meant disappointing him.

Stopping meant being difficult.

Stopping meant proving she wasn't ready for this.

For him…

For love…

So she bit her lip.

And breathed.

And let the pain blur into something else.

Something she could survive.

"That's it," he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers. "Just like that."

"Gimme way baby…easy… it's passed! You did so well!"

"Now let me have it all, God, I want all of you!"

He moved slowly, carefully, each motion deliberate. Each thrust pushing deeper.

She felt everything and nothing.

The physical sensations registered somewhere distant—

pressure,

fullness,

the rhythm of his breathing matching hers.

But her mind kept drifting.

Is this what it's supposed to feel like?

Is this normal?

Why does it feel like I'm watching from somewhere else?

"You feel so good, tightly wrapped around me, baby." he whispered against her neck.

She made a sound.

Agreement, maybe.

Or just noise to fill the space.

She wasn't sure anymore.

Her body taking all the pleasure that he offered with a practised pace. 

Her mind disassociated itself, not questioning anymore.

Time stretched and compressed.

Seconds felt like hours.

Hours felt like seconds.

She heard him say her name.

Felt his hands tighten on her hips.

Registered the change in his breathing—

faster,

rougher,

urgent.

Then stillness.

Weight.

His breath hot against her shoulder.

"God, Elena, you are so ravishing." he breathed.

She lay there, staring at the ceiling.

The water stain was shaped like a bird…

She'd never noticed that before.

Funny, the things you see when you're trying not to feel…

He shifted, rolling to the side but keeping an arm draped possessively across her waist.

"Are you okay?" he murmured after a moment.

"Yeah," she whispered.

The lie came easier than the truth.

Because the truth was—

She didn't know what she was.

Empty?

Full?

Loved?

Used?

All of it?

None of it?

"You were perfect," he said, kissing her temple.

His voice carried satisfaction.

Pride.

Tenderness.

Like he'd given her something precious.

And maybe he had.

Or maybe he'd taken something she'd never get back.

She couldn't tell the difference anymore.

She closed her eyes.

Not because she was tired.

But because looking at him—

at the tenderness in his face,

the satisfaction in his smile—

made something twist in her stomach.

Something that felt like grief.

For a version of herself that had existed an hour ago.

A version that still had the luxury of wondering what this would feel like.

Now she knew.

And she couldn't unknow it.

So she closed her eyes.

And pretended to sleep.

And listened to his heartbeat.

Steady.

Confident.

Victorious?

While hers felt like it was breaking.

Minutes passed.

Or maybe hours.

Time felt slippery.

Elena lay still, aware of every point where their bodies touched, hyperconscious of the cooling sweat on her skin, the ache between her legs that felt both physical and something deeper.

Nathan's fingers traced lazy patterns on her stomach.

"You know what I love about you?" he murmured suddenly.

She opened her eyes but didn't turn to look at him.

"What?"

"How brave you are."

The word landed wrong.

Brave?

She didn't feel brave.

She felt hollowedout.

"You face things head-on," he continued, his voice warm with what sounded like genuine admiration. "Even when they scare you. Even when they're hard. Don't loose that quality of yours, even when the times are dark."

Is that what just happened?

I faced something? Or did I just... stop resisting?

She didn't say it out loud.

"Today, for example," he said, and she felt him shift slightly, propping himself up on one elbow. "With Adrian."

Her stomach dropped.

"What about it?" she asked carefully.

"You stood up for us." His hand moved to cup her cheek, turning her face toward him. "You chose us over doubt. Over fear. Over someone trying to plant poison in your head."

His thumb brushed her cheekbone.

"That takes courage, baby."

She swallowed.

The conversation with Adrian felt like it happened in another lifetime.

The file.

The girls' faces.

The patterns.

All of it seemed so far away now, buried under the weight of what had just happened in this room.

"He's just worried," she heard herself say.

Nathan's expression shifted—something flickering behind his eyes that she couldn't read.

"What exactly did he say?" he asked, voice still soft but with an edge beneath it.

Elena's throat tightened.

She didn't want to talk about this.

Not now.

Not naked and vulnerable and still feeling the ghost of his hands on her skin.

But his gaze held hers, patient and expectant.

Waiting.

"Just..." she started, then stopped, About your past relationships."

Nathan went very still.

"About my past relationships?" His jaw tightened again.

"It was nothing," she said quickly. "Just jealous nonsense. He was trying to— I don't know what he was trying to do. Make me doubt you."

"And did it work?"

The question hung in the air between them.

Sharp.

Dangerous.

"No," she whispered.

"No?"

"No. I trust you."

She said it firmly, like saying it loudly enough would make it…true.

Like volume could drown out the small voice that kept whispering:

But what if Adrian was right?

What if those girls' stories were real?

What if you're next?

Nathan studied her face for a long moment.

Then his expression softened.

"Elena," he said gently. "Look at me."

She did.

"Those relationships... they were mistakes. Learning experiences." His voice carried regret, vulnerability. "I was younger. Stupider. I thought connection was about surface things—looks, status, chemistry. I didn't understand what real intimacy was."

He brushed hair back from her forehead.

"But you... you're different. You see me. Not my money, not my position. Me."

She could only hear honesty in his voice. 

But is what you want to hear? Or is it actually honesty?

His eyes held hers with devastating sincerity.

"That's why this scares me sometimes. Because I've never had this before. Never felt this before. And the idea that someone like Adrian could take it away..."

His jaw clenched.

"It makes me crazy."

Elena felt her chest tighten.

The vulnerability in his voice.

The raw honesty.

This was the real Nathan, wasn't it?

Not the polished, controlled man from the gala.

This—trembling and open and afraid of losing her.

Her heart moved to him, wanting to believe everything he said.

"You're not going to lose me," she whispered.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

The words left her mouth before she could think about what they meant.

What they bound her to.

Nathan exhaled, relief flooding his features.

"Thank you," he murmured, pulling her close again. "Thank you for choosing us."

She let herself be held.

Let his warmth surround her.

Let the silence fill the spaces where doubt tried to creep in.

But even as she lay there, wrapped in his arms, supposedly safe and chosen and loved—

That small voice wouldn't stop whispering:

What did you just promise?

What did you just agree to?

And why does it feel less like a choice

and more like surrender?

She wondered, just for a flicker of a moment, if the version of her who existed before tonight would recognize the girl lying here now."