Chapter 5 – Stay

Two words. Softly spoken, but packed with weight.

Natalia's heart slammed against her ribs as she stood in Darian Valente's penthouse, his body still close, his scent still curling around her like heat. The kiss lingered between them, electric, unfinished.

“I don’t usually bring women here,” he said, voice low and steady, eyes locked on hers. “And I never invite them to stay.”

She didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“Why me?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Because you're not like the others. You challenge me… and you don’t even realize it.”

His thumb brushed lightly along her cheek, and her eyes fluttered. She was fighting herself—her logic, her boundaries, her fear. But his touch was undoing all of it.

“I should go,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

“You can,” he said, voice dark silk. “But you don’t want to.”

Her knees weakened. He was right. She didn’t want to go. But she didn’t want to lose herself either.

“I’m not like the women you toy with,” she said carefully, searching his eyes. “You know that.”

He nodded. “That’s exactly why I’m being careful.”

His hands moved to her waist, light at first, like he was waiting for her to push him away. She didn’t.

“You can stay without crossing the line,” he added. “I won’t force anything. But I want you near me tonight. Just that.”

Natalia studied him. His eyes, his face, his body language—everything about him screamed control. But right now, there was a quiet vulnerability in the way he waited.

She took a breath and nodded. “Alright. I’ll stay.”

His expression didn’t change, but something shifted in his posture. Like he’d just won a silent battle.

“Good,” he said. “Come.”

He led her down a short hallway to a bedroom that looked like something out of a design magazine—steel and charcoal, low lighting, and floor-to-ceiling windows revealing a glowing city skyline.

He opened a drawer and handed her a folded black shirt.

“You can sleep in this,” he said, voice still low. “The bed’s yours.”

She blinked. “Where will you—?”

“I have work to do,” he said, backing toward the door. “I won’t come in unless you call me.”

“Why are you being so… decent?” she asked before she could stop herself.

His lips twitched into something close to a smile. “Because you’re not ready. And I’m not the kind of man who needs to take what’s not freely offered.”

He left the room without another word.

Natalia stood alone, holding the shirt, still trembling slightly. She changed out of her blouse and skirt, slipping into the soft, oversized fabric. It smelled like him—sandalwood, leather, and something purely male.

She lay on the enormous bed, the city lights casting shadows across the sheets. For the first time in years, her mind didn’t race with fear or survival or stress.

Instead, it circled one man. One kiss. One moment.

Somewhere after midnight, a knock came.

She sat up. “Yes?”

The door opened slowly, and Darian stood there, tie undone, shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled to his elbows.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said.

Her heart twisted.

“Neither could I.”

He stepped inside, silent, watching her like she might disappear.

“I won’t touch you unless you want me to,” he said. “But… I need to lie next to you tonight.”

She hesitated—only for a heartbeat.

Then she nodded.

He crossed the room and climbed into bed beside her, careful not to brush against her. But the heat of his body was undeniable. Intoxicating.