Dahlia unlocked the apartment door that night expecting the faint sound of the television or the smell of food.
Silence greeted her.
She stepped inside slowly.
"David?" she called.
No answer.
Strange. He usually got home before her.
She dropped her bag and dialed his number. It rang. And rang.
No reply. No message.He would her messaged her if he was coming home late.
A small crease formed between her brows, but exhaustion swallowed the suspicion before it could grow. She was too tired to cook, too tired to think.
_____________________
After a quick shower, she slipped into bed and fell asleep almost instantly.
The next morning, the smell of breakfast woke her.
She blinked.
David stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, flipping pancakes like nothing had happened.
"You're up," he smiled, walking over and pressing a light kiss to her forehead.
She studied him.
"What time did you get home last night?"
He paused briefly. Too briefly.
"Not sure. I was exhausted. Just slipped into bed beside you."
She searched his face.
"Why were you late?"
"Work," he said casually. "My boss needed some documents for a meeting this morning. I had to finish them."
She nodded slowly.
It made sense.
And she let it go.
____________________
On her way to the bus stop, Dahlia kept her head down.
She almost didn't notice the sleek black BMW that slowed beside her.
The window rolled down.
Lorenzo Moretti.
Dark sunglasses. Crisp black shirt. That same infuriating calm.
"Get in," he said simply.
Her stomach tightened.
Without looking at him, she stepped forward just as the bus pulled up.
Perfect timing.
She boarded immediately.
She refused to look back.
Inside the bus, she exhaled sharply.
He was powerful. Dangerous.
And she wanted nothing to do with him.
Nothing.
Murmurs began spreading through the bus.
Heads turned toward the windows.
"Is that a BMW M8?"
"Why is it driving so close?"
"What is he doing?"
The car overtook them.
Then suddenly—
It swerved in front of the bus.
The brakes screeched.
Passengers lurched forward.
The driver cursed under his breath.
Dahlia's heart dropped.
The BMW door opened.
Lorenzo stepped out.
Even from inside, his presence shifted the air. Controlled. Dominant. Unbothered.
Whispers erupted.
"Who is he?"
"He's so hot."
"Is he insane?"
"Why stop a bus?"
" Oh my God, he's so fucking hot, I'll be blessed to fuck him even if it's for a night"
" How big do you think his cock is?"
" I want to carry his baby"
Dahlia immediately bent down in her seat, hiding her face.
Maybe if she stayed still.
Maybe if she didn't breathe.
He won't notice her.
The bus door opened.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Unrushed.
People instinctively moved aside. No one told them to. They just did.
Maybe it was his imposing aura or him being hot, they didn't know, they just did.
" Check out that ass" a lady said curling her hair and chewing gum.
Lorenzo walked down the aisle like he owned it.
He stopped.
Right in front of her.
She looked up slowly.
Their eyes locked.
He had seen her the entire time.
A smirk curved his lips.
She didn't move, she just prayed that he was blind enough to not see her.
"Are you coming out yourself," he asked quietly, "or should I help you?"
She stayed silent.
Big mistake.
He bent down.
In one smooth motion, he lifted her effortlessly into his arms.
Bridal style.
Gasps filled the bus.
"Oh my God."
"She's so lucky."
"Is he her boyfriend?"
" Boyfriend or not, I could suck him off better than she ever could"
"That's straight out of a movie."
Dahlia's face burned with humiliation.
Instinctively, she pressed her face into his chest, hiding from the stares.
His arm tightened around her slightly.
"You shouldn't ignore me," he murmured near her ear. "It makes me impatient."
Her heart pounded violently.
"What....what are you doing?" she whispered sharply.
"Taking what's mine."
And just like that, he carried her off the bus.