Kamilla barely slept after that conversation.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the messages again.

> Dangerous men don’t ask for permission, pretty girl.

The words lingered beneath her skin like fingerprints.

By morning, she hated herself a little for how much she wanted another notification.

The worst part?

She had checked her phone three times before even getting out of bed.

Pathetic.

Her curls were still tangled from sleep as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror brushing her teeth, oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder.

Her mind replayed every conversation with VANTABLACK in humiliating detail.

The way he somehow understood her without trying.

The way he never flirted normally.

Everything he said felt layered.

Controlled.

Like he knew exactly where to touch psychologically.

And Kamilla—

God.

She liked it too much.

A soft buzz vibrated from the counter.

Her pulse jumped instantly.

She grabbed the phone too fast.

One new message.

From him.

> VANTABLACK:

Didn’t sleep well?

Her stomach dropped.

She stared at the screen.

Then slowly looked around her empty apartment.

How would he know that?

Her fingers moved carefully.

> KAMILLA:

Why do you always sound like you’re watching me?

Three dots appeared immediately.

> VANTABLACK:

Maybe you write like someone easy to observe.

Kamilla swallowed.

That answer should not have affected her as much as it did.

Instead, warmth spread through her chest.

Dangerous warmth.

The kind that made smart girls ignore instincts.

—

By afternoon, the rain finally stopped.

Kamilla headed downstairs carrying sketchbooks pressed against her chest, cream sweater sleeves covering half her hands while music played softly in her headphones.

She almost collided with someone turning the corner near the lobby elevators.

A large hand caught her wrist instantly before she stumbled.

Strong.

Warm.

Firm enough to stop her entire body.

Kamilla inhaled sharply.

Black clothing.

Broad chest.

Dark curls.

Jade Volkov.

He towered over her so completely she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.

Those cold grey eyes moved slowly over her face.

Then lower.

Not inappropriate.

Worse.

Observant.

Like he noticed everything.

The pink flush spreading across her cheeks.

Her shallow breathing.

The nervous way she clutched her sketchbook tighter.

Jade released her wrist slowly.

Too slowly.

“You should look where you’re going,” he said calmly.

Deep voice.

Low enough to vibrate in her chest.

Kamilla hated how instantly aware she became around him.

Every time.

Living across from Jade felt like existing too close to a thunderstorm.

He rarely smiled.

Rarely spoke.

But his presence swallowed entire rooms whole.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

His gaze lingered another second.

Then dropped to the romance novel sticking halfway out of her tote bag.

Dark spine.

Black roses on the cover.

His mouth almost twitched.

Almost.

“You read things with bad endings,” he noted quietly.

Kamilla blinked.

“What?”

“Your books.”

His eyes returned to hers.

“They all look emotionally expensive.”

Heat crawled up her throat.

What kind of observation even was that?

Before she could answer, the elevator dinged.

Jade stepped aside, allowing her in first.

The confined space immediately became unbearable.

He took up too much room.

Too much air.

Kamilla pressed herself subtly against the opposite wall while he stood beside her in silence, dressed entirely in black as usual.

Black watch.

Black rings.

Black button-down rolled at the forearms revealing rough veins and tattoo ink disappearing beneath fabric.

God.

Why did he look dangerous even standing still?

The elevator began moving.

Kamilla could feel him looking at her again.

Not casually.

Intensely.

Like he was studying reactions.

“You’re nervous around me,” Jade said.

Not a question.

Her throat tightened.

“A little.”

“Why?”

Because you look like the type of man girls disappear for.

Because your voice does weird things to my nervous system.

Because standing this close to you feels psychologically unsafe.

Instead she said softly, “You’re intimidating.”

Something unreadable crossed his face.

Then:

“You stare at me too.”

Kamilla almost choked.

“I do not.”

“You do.”

Calm.

Certain.

His eyes lowered slightly.

“Usually when you think I won’t notice.”

Her face burned instantly.

How long had he noticed that?

The elevator stopped.

Thank God.

Kamilla stepped out too quickly.

But before the doors fully closed, Jade spoke again.

“Kamilla.”

She turned.

The way her name sounded in his mouth felt intimate somehow.

His gaze held hers steadily.

“You should be more careful with lonely men.”

The doors slid shut.

Leaving her frozen in the hallway.

Heart pounding violently.

—

That night she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Not VANTABLACK.

Jade.

The terrifying thing was how similar they felt.

Both observant.

Both emotionally invasive.

Both speaking like they already knew her.

Kamilla sat cross-legged on her bed wearing satin shorts while answering comments beneath her anonymous confession posts.

Then another notification appeared.

> VANTABLACK:

Tell me what happened today.

Her breath caught.

Slowly, she typed:

> KAMILLA:

I met my neighbor again.

A pause.

Then:

> VANTABLACK:

The tall one.

Her fingers stopped moving.

> KAMILLA:

How do you know he’s tall?

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

> VANTABLACK:

You describe people without realizing it.

Kamilla stared suspiciously at the screen.

That answer felt too smooth.

Too prepared.

She shook it off.

Paranoia.

Nothing else.

> KAMILLA:

He makes me nervous.

This time the reply came slower.

> VANTABLACK:

Nervous isn’t always bad.

> KAMILLA:

He stares too much.

> VANTABLACK:

Maybe he likes looking at pretty things.

Kamilla bit her lip unconsciously.

Her stomach fluttered embarrassingly hard.

She hated how easily this stranger affected her.

Another message came.

> VANTABLACK:

Tell me something honest again.

Kamilla leaned back against her pillows.

Heart racing slowly now.

Outside her apartment window, city lights flickered gold against the dark skyline.

She typed carefully this time.

> KAMILLA:

Sometimes I think I want someone intense enough to ruin my entire life a little.

Jade read the message from his penthouse office upstairs.

Jaw flexing hard.

He imagined her curled in bed typing that with sleepy eyes and flushed cheeks.

Dangerous girl.

He should stop this now.

Instead, he replied:

> VANTABLACK:

Ruin can look romantic when you’re lonely enough.

Her response came immediately.

> KAMILLA:

That sounds like experience.

Jade leaned back slowly in his chair.

The city glowed behind him through floor-to-ceiling windows while security reports sat forgotten on his desk.

Nothing held his attention anymore except her.

> VANTABLACK:

Experience taught me people leave eventually.

Possession is the only thing that stays.

Kamilla reread the message twice.

There it was again.

That dark undercurrent beneath everything he said.

Not playful dominance.

Not fake internet seduction.

Something deeper.

Something frighteningly genuine.

And instead of running—

she felt drawn closer.

Her next confession came easier than it should have.

> KAMILLA:

I think part of me wants to be known too much.

Even the ugly parts.

Jade’s expression darkened instantly.

Because he already knew them.

The insecurity she hid behind humor.

The loneliness she buried beneath softness.

The way she stared at couples too long in cafés before pretending not to care.

He knew the exact time she cried herself to sleep three nights ago.

He knew which songs she replayed when she felt empty.

He knew because he watched.

And God help him—

he couldn’t stop.

> VANTABLACK:

The ugly parts are usually the most interesting.

Kamilla’s breathing slowed.

The conversation no longer felt normal.

It felt intimate in a way physical attraction never reached.

Like emotional undressing.

Layer by layer.

Piece by piece.

Her phone buzzed again before she could think.

> VANTABLACK:

What scares you most?

Kamilla stared at the question.

Then finally typed the truth.

> KAMILLA:

Wanting someone more than they want me.

Jade closed his eyes briefly.

Because if she knew what he already felt for her—

she would run.

Or worse.

She would stay.

And Jade wasn’t sure which possibility terrified him more.

—

Two days later, Kamilla returned home carrying grocery bags through the apartment hallway.

She struggled with her keys while balancing everything awkwardly.

A bag suddenly slipped from her arms.

Before it hit the floor—

a large hand caught it easily.

Jade.

Again.

Always suddenly there.

Too close.

Too silent.

Her heartbeat stumbled.

“Your survival instincts are terrible,” he said calmly.

Kamilla laughed nervously.

“You appear out of nowhere like a serial killer.”

One of his brows lifted slightly.

“Interesting comparison.”

Heat flooded her face instantly.

God.

Why did every conversation with him feel loaded?

He handed her the grocery bag carefully.

Their fingers brushed.

Warmth shot straight up her arm.

And Jade noticed.

Of course he noticed.

His eyes lowered briefly to her mouth.

Then back up.

Slowly.

Kamilla’s pulse turned uneven.

“You bake when stressed,” he observed suddenly.

She blinked.

“What?”

His gaze shifted toward the grocery bag.

Flour.

Vanilla extract.

Chocolate chips.

“You bought ingredients yesterday too.”

Her stomach tightened.

How did he notice things like that?

Jade stepped closer slightly.

Not enough to touch.

Enough to affect her breathing.

“You always avoid eye contact when you’re overwhelmed,” he added quietly.

The hallway suddenly felt too small.

Too warm.

Too intimate.

Kamilla stared at him.

“Why do you pay so much attention to me?”

Silence.

A dangerous silence.

Jade’s eyes darkened almost imperceptibly.

Then finally:

“Because you look lonely in a way I recognize.”

Her breath caught instantly.

That answer hit somewhere painfully deep.

And for one terrifying second—

she wanted him to touch her.

Not sexually.

Worse.

Tenderly.

Like he understood things no one else did.

Jade looked at her for another long moment before stepping back.

Control sliding coldly over his expression again.

“Goodnight, Kamilla.”

Then he walked away.

Leaving her standing outside her apartment completely breathless.

Inside his penthouse, Jade watched through security cameras as she lingered frozen in the hallway for twelve full seconds before entering her apartment.

Obsessed.

He was becoming fucking obsessed.

And Kamilla—

sweet, lonely Kamilla—

was already beginning to crave the danger without understanding it yet.

The rain started again at midnight.

Heavy.

Violent.

The kind that turned the city into blurred lights and shadows beyond Kamilla’s windows.

She should have been asleep.

Instead, she sat curled on the floor beside her couch in an oversized sweater, laptop open beside untouched sketches while VANTABLACK’s messages consumed her attention again.

It had become dangerous how quickly he invaded her thoughts.

Worse—

how much she liked it.

Her phone buzzed.

> VANTABLACK:

You ignored me for four hours.

Kamilla smiled despite herself.

> KAMILLA:

That sounds possessive.

A long pause.

Then:

> VANTABLACK:

Maybe I dislike sharing attention.

Heat spread through her slowly.

Every conversation with him felt like standing too close to a fire.

Not warmth.

Something hotter.

Something capable of destruction.

Another message appeared.

> VANTABLACK:

Where did you go tonight?

Her brows furrowed.

> KAMILLA:

Dinner with classmates.

The typing bubble appeared immediately.

Stopped.

Appeared again.

> VANTABLACK:

The blond man talked to you too much.

Kamilla froze.

Her stomach tightened instantly.

How the hell—

> KAMILLA:

What blond man?

No response for nearly thirty seconds.

Then:

> VANTABLACK:

The one staring at your mouth while pretending to listen when you spoke.

Her pulse stumbled violently.

Cold prickled down her spine.

Because there had been a blond man.

One of the photography students.

And yes—

he had flirted with her most of the evening.

Kamilla sat upright slowly.

> KAMILLA:

How would you know that?

Seen.

That was the terrifying feeling suddenly crawling through her body.

Seen.

The reply finally came.

> VANTABLACK:

Men are predictable when they want something.

Not an answer.

Avoidance.

But her heart still raced too hard.

She stood and walked toward the kitchen, trying to shake off the strange tension coiling low in her stomach.

Rain hammered harder against the windows.

Lightning flashed across the apartment briefly.

Another message buzzed.

> VANTABLACK:

Did you like his attention?

Kamilla swallowed.

The possessiveness in the question shouldn’t have affected her.

But God—

it did.

> KAMILLA:

Are you jealous?

Three dots appeared instantly this time.

> VANTABLACK:

I don’t get jealous.

I get rid of problems.

Her breath caught sharply.

There it was again.

That terrifying undercurrent beneath everything he said.

Normal people didn’t talk like this.

Normal people didn’t make darkness sound seductive.

And yet—

Kamilla’s thighs pressed together unconsciously.

Because some horrible hidden part of her liked the idea of someone wanting her that intensely.

Another message appeared before she could respond.

> VANTABLACK:

Tell me something honest, Kamilla.

The use of her real name made her heartbeat uneven.

She leaned against the kitchen counter slowly.

Rain.

Thunder.

Dark apartment.

And him.

Always him.

> KAMILLA:

I liked that you sounded jealous.

Jade stared at the screen from inside his penthouse.

Control snapped painfully tight inside his chest.

Across the hall, she had no idea what she was doing to him.

No idea how difficult it had become not to touch her.

He remembered the blond student laughing too close to her earlier that evening.

Remembered how Kamilla smiled politely while shifting subtly away.

Remembered the violent urge he felt watching another man look at her too long.

Obsessive.

Possessive.

Unacceptable.

And still growing worse every day.

His phone lit again.

> KAMILLA:

That probably sounds toxic.

Jade’s jaw flexed.

> VANTABLACK:

No.

It sounds like you want to feel wanted badly enough to lose control over it.

Kamilla closed her eyes briefly.

Because he always did this.

Always peeled her open psychologically until she forgot how to hide.

The rainstorm deepened outside.

Then suddenly—

The apartment lights went out.

Darkness swallowed everything.

Kamilla gasped softly.

“Seriously?”

Thunder cracked overhead.

Her building occasionally lost power during storms, but the sudden darkness still unsettled her.

She reached blindly for her phone flashlight.

Another message appeared first.

> VANTABLACK:

Scared of the dark, pretty girl?

Her pulse jumped violently.

The timing felt too immediate.

Too aware.

> KAMILLA:

Stop doing that.

> VANTABLACK:

Doing what?

> KAMILLA:

Acting like you know exactly what’s happening around me.

Jade smiled faintly in the darkness of his penthouse.

Security generators kept his floor partially powered.

Enough for surveillance screens to glow softly nearby.

Enough to show Kamilla moving through candlelit shadows inside her apartment.

He should stop.

Instead, he stood.

And walked toward his front door.

Across the hall, Kamilla lit candles one by one until warm golden light flickered through the apartment.

The atmosphere suddenly felt intimate.

Dangerously intimate.

Her phone buzzed again.

> VANTABLACK:

What are you wearing?

Kamilla’s breath slowed.

Heat spread through her chest.

> KAMILLA:

That’s your question?

> VANTABLACK:

Answer it anyway.

She bit her lip unconsciously.

> KAMILLA:

Oversized sweater.

Bare legs.

Jade exhaled slowly.

His restraint was rotting.

Another message came.

> VANTABLACK:

And are you thinking about me again?

Kamilla sat slowly on the edge of her couch.

Candles flickered around the room while rain battered the windows endlessly.

Honesty felt easier in darkness.

> KAMILLA:

Yes.

A pause.

Then:

> KAMILLA:

More than I should.

Jade stared at the message for several long seconds.

Then finally typed:

> VANTABLACK:

Good.

A knock sounded at her apartment door.

Kamilla froze instantly.

Her heart lurched painfully.

Another knock.

Slow.

Calm.

Thunder rumbled overhead.

Her phone buzzed simultaneously.

> VANTABLACK:

Open the door.

Fear and excitement collided violently inside her chest.

No.

No way.

Her bare feet moved across the apartment anyway.

The hallway beyond the peephole was dark.

Empty.

Another buzz.

> VANTABLACK:

Trust me.

Kamilla’s breathing turned shallow.

Every instinct told her this was dangerous.

But curiosity—

that terrible craving for intensity—

won.

Slowly, she unlocked the door.

It creaked open slightly.

Dark hallway.

Rain sounds echoing faintly through distant windows.

Then—

A large figure stepped from the shadows before she could react.

A black blindfold slipped gently over her eyes.

Kamilla gasped sharply.

“Relax,” a deep voice murmured near her ear.

Not enough to identify.

Lowered intentionally.

But masculine.

Controlled.

Her pulse exploded.

“Who—”

“Shh.”

Large hands settled briefly at her waist.

Warm.

Possessive.

Not hurting.

Controlling.

Kamilla’s breath shook instantly.

Everything inside her screamed to pull away.

Instead—

she stood perfectly still.

Because she knew.

Some part of her had wanted this.

Wanted the fear.

The surrender.

The dangerous unknown.

“You trust strangers too easily,” the voice murmured.

So close now.

She could smell rain and expensive cologne.

Feel heat radiating from his body.

“Maybe I wanted to,” Kamilla whispered.

A quiet pause followed.

Then she felt rough fingers tilt her chin upward gently.

“Tell me what you crave,” he said softly.

The blindfold intensified everything.

Every breath.

Every touch.

Every inch of tension between them.

Kamilla’s heartbeat felt unbearable.

“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly.

A hand brushed slowly along her thigh.

Not explicit.

Just enough to make her inhale sharply.

“Yes you do.”

Thunder cracked outside again.

The stranger’s hand settled possessively at her waist.

“Attention,” he murmured.

His thumb stroked slowly against her hip through the sweater.

“Intensity.”

Another slow touch.

“You want someone capable of overwhelming you emotionally.”

Kamilla shivered.

Because it was true.

God.

Every word was true.

The hand at her waist tightened slightly.

“Someone who notices every reaction.”

His voice lowered further.

“Every breath.”

Another soft touch along her thigh.

Measured.

Controlled.

“You want to stop pretending you’re only soft.”

Kamilla’s knees weakened slightly.

Her entire body burned with awareness now.

Fear and desire tangling together until she couldn’t separate them anymore.

“Who are you?” she whispered shakily.

Silence.

Then:

“A man listening to your fantasies.”

His hand slid upward just enough to make her breathing hitch harder before stopping again deliberately.

Teasing.

Patient.

Cruel in its restraint.

And somehow that affected her more than desperation would have.

Kamilla’s hands found his forearms instinctively.

Hard muscle beneath dark fabric.

Big.

Solid.

Dangerous.

“You shouldn’t trust me,” he murmured against her ear.

But his grip tightened possessively anyway.

As though he already knew she would.