Caged in Silk | Episode 1 of The Dark Kings Mafia BWWM

Chapter 1

The elevator descended in suffocating silence, each floor a countdown to something I’d agreed to but didn’t fully understand. Twenty minutes ago, I’d been sorting through the day’s photographs. Now I was standing beside Dorian Kane with a hastily packed overnight bag and the broken pieces of my camera lens still scattered across my apartment floor.

“I appreciate the warning about Viktor,” I said tightly, watching the numbers tick downward. “But I’m not staying with you indefinitely.”

Dorian’s eyes never left the elevator doors, his jaw a rigid line. “We’ll discuss the details once you’re secure.”

Secure. Such a clinical word for upending someone’s entire life. My fingers tightened around my bag strap, mind already mapping the building’s exit points. This “arrangement” would be on my terms, not his—regardless of what he thought.

When we reached the lobby, his hand found the small of my back, guiding me toward a sleek black car waiting outside. The pressure of his fingers—light but insistent—sent an unwelcome heat up my spine.

“I can walk on my own,” I muttered, stepping away from his touch.

He didn’t reply, just opened the passenger door with practiced efficiency. The moment I slid inside, any illusion of choice evaporated. This wasn’t protection. This was possession dressed up in concern.

* * *

The leather seats swallowed me whole. Plush, decadent, expensive. The kind of luxury meant to soothe you into forgetting you were trapped.

Too bad it wasn’t working.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” My voice sliced through the thick silence of the car as I yanked against the seatbelt holding me down. Locked. Just like the doors. “You said we needed to leave my apartment because it wasn’t safe. Fine. But this—” I gestured at the locked doors, the tinted windows, the oppressive sense of control, “—this is kidnapping, not protection.”

Dorian kept his eyes on the road, knuckles pale where they gripped the wheel. His suit jacket strained across his shoulders, the crisp fabric doing nothing to hide the sheer power underneath. He whipped through traffic like a man possessed, taking corners so sharp I had to brace myself against the door.

I couldn’t help noticing how his hands handled the wheel—large, with long fingers and a prominent vein running along the back of his right hand. A thin white scar curved across his knuckles, telling stories his mouth never would. Those hands made me uneasy, powerful and skilled at both destruction and gentleness.

“Are you planning to crash this thing?” I snapped. “Because you sure as hell drive like it.”

His gaze cut to me, dark and sharp, and I swear the temperature in the car dropped ten degrees. “I’ll drive how I damn well please. Considering I’m saving your life, you could try showing some gratitude.”

The confined space of the luxury sedan filled with his scent—expensive cologne with notes of sandalwood and something darker underneath. Not sweat exactly, but something primal and masculine that reminded me this was a dangerous man, not just some rich businessman. Beneath it all, the faintest metallic hint of what might have been gunpowder. My nostrils flared involuntarily, and I hated my body’s instinctive response to him.

“Gratitude? Oh, is that what this is?” I crossed my arms over my chest. The words he’d spoken in my apartment still echoed in my mind: You’re everything to me. And Viktor knows it. Words that had frozen me in place just long enough for him to rush me out the door.

“Lord, give me strength with this man. Ten minutes ago you were telling me I’m ‘everything’ to you,” I threw his words back at him, “and now you’re acting like I’m some package you’re delivering.”

His lips moved slightly. Not quite a smile. More like the ghost of one, gone before it had the chance to form. “If you keep fighting me, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

I stared at him, my chest tight with something I refused to name. The man was infuriating. And entirely too good-looking for his own good. Or mine. Even with anger rolling off him in waves, I couldn’t stop noticing how his profile stood out against the darkness—all sharp angles and silent promises.

A sharp turn sent me sliding against him momentarily, my shoulder brushing his arm. The brief contact sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with something far more dangerous. Heat pooled low in my belly, and I jerked away like I’d been burned. My body’s betrayal infuriated me more than his high-handedness.

Lord, focus on getting away, not on how fine this man looks in a suit.

“Take me home, Dorian,” I said, putting every ounce of don’t-try-me into my voice. “You’ve made your point. This caveman routine is done.”

“Your apartment isn’t safe,” he said firmly. “Viktor’s men were already there before you even made it back tonight.”

The words hit me like a punch, though I’d heard similar warnings back in my apartment. The reality was sinking in now that we were actually in motion. “What exactly are they planning to do?” I asked, voice steadier than I felt. “And don’t give me the sanitized version.”

He didn’t answer immediately, his attention shifting to a car that had been behind us for several blocks. I made careful note of the turns he took, counting streets and memorizing landmarks. If I was going to get myself out of this situation, I needed to know exactly where he was taking me.

“Viktor doesn’t leave witnesses,” he finally said, voice flat. “And he especially doesn’t leave loose ends that could be used against him.”

I swallowed hard, remembering the moment that had started all this. One flash of my camera at the wrong time. One image that captured something I wasn’t supposed to see. “Is this all because of that photo? Because if you’re this worked up over one picture—”

“This isn’t about the damn picture,” he interrupted, frustration clear in his voice. “This is about keeping you alive.”

“Fine. Let’s say I believe you—which I don’t entirely, by the way. What’s your plan? Lock me away until some rival mafia boss gets bored and moves on?”

His hands tightened on the wheel. “Until I eliminate the threat.”

Those words hung between us, heavy with meaning. I’d always suspected what the Kane family was involved in—the whispers, the rumors. But hearing him speak so calmly about eliminating a threat made it all too real.

“And what if I don’t want to be part of your mafia power play?” I challenged.

“You became part of it the moment Viktor’s men started watching you.” He turned to look at me, eyes burning. “The moment you caught my attention.”

The raw possessiveness in his voice sent a wave of heat through me I wasn’t prepared for. I shifted in my seat, mad at my body’s reaction to him. Mad that even as my mind was screaming danger, something else inside me was whispering yes.

My thighs pressed together involuntarily, and I struggled to maintain my composure. This confusion—this war between my survival instincts and some primal attraction to the most dangerous man I’d ever met—was exactly what I didn’t need right now.

“That doesn’t give you the right to control my life,” I argued, working to keep my voice steady. “I’m a grown woman who makes her own decisions.”

“And I’m a man who doesn’t lose what’s his.”

I blinked, stunned by his audacity. “Excuse me? I’m not yours, Dorian Kane. I’m not anyone’s. You think just because you got money and power, you can claim people? This ain’t 1862, and I ain’t for sale.”

His smile was slow and predatory. “We’ll see.”

“You know, that arrogance is going to catch up with you someday,” I muttered, fighting to ignore the way my pulse jumped at that look. The man was insufferable—and far too comfortable with his own power.

The car slowed, easing into an underground parking garage that screamed wealth and exclusivity. Polished concrete, gleaming steel, and the faint smell of leather and expensive cars. I studied every inch of my surroundings, counting security cameras and noting the placement of stairwells. Three exits that I could see—one marked for emergency use only, likely alarmed. The service entrance would probably be my best bet when the time came.

“Where are we?” I demanded as he parked and cut the engine.

“My penthouse.” His tone was flat, like he was stating the obvious.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I unbuckled my seatbelt, fingers trembling with a mix of anger and something far more dangerous. “What is this, some mafia bachelor pad where you store your kidnapped victims?”

His smirk returned, more devil than man. “I could show you the dungeon if you’d like.”

“You’re a real comedian,” I said, rolling my eyes, but my pulse jumped anyway. Damn him. Damn whatever this twisted attraction was. “Now let me out.”

“After you get inside.” His hand shot out, gripping my arm as I reached for the door handle. His touch was firm, his fingers warm against my skin. “You’re not safe out here.”

For a moment, our eyes locked, and something electric passed between us. His gaze dropped to my lips for just a second before returning to my eyes, and I hated how my breath caught.

“You’re not safe,” I muttered under my breath, but I let him pull me out of the car. We crossed the polished concrete of the garage toward a private elevator tucked into the far wall. “Fine. Lead the way, Prince Charming.”

“Charming’s never been my specialty.” His gaze moved over me, possessive and assessing. “But I can be persuasive.”

The elevator ride was pure torture—silent, suffocating, his presence looming beside me like a shadow. I was too aware of every inch between us, of the subtle scent of his cologne, of the contained power in the way he stood. The small space made him seem even larger, more imposing.

I stared at the floor numbers climbing higher, counting each one and mentally calculating how long it would take to reach the ground floor in an emergency. Fourteen… fifteen… sixteen…

“Stop looking like I’m leading you to your execution,” he said, breaking the silence. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“By locking me away?” I challenged, raising my chin. “Forgive me if I don’t swoon with gratitude.”

His expression darkened. “Would you prefer I left you for Viktor’s men to find? Because that was the alternative.”

“How about option C? Where you warn me like a normal person and let me decide what to do with that information?” I shook my head. “You dropped a bomb on me back in my apartment, then barely gave me five minutes to process before dragging me into your car.”

“There is no option C.” His voice was firm. “Not with Viktor. He doesn’t play by rules.”

“And you do?” I countered.

His eyes met mine, intense and unyielding. “I have my own rules.”

The elevator chimed, announcing our arrival, and my stomach dropped as the doors slid open to reveal his penthouse. It was exactly what I’d expect from a man like Dorian Kane—sleek, sophisticated, and impersonal. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of Manhattan’s skyline, the lights of the city spread out like diamonds on black velvet. Expensive furniture, minimalist art, and not a hint of warmth or personality.

I stepped inside cautiously, taking in my surroundings. It was beautiful in a cold, untouchable way. Like him.

“Your prison is very nice,” I said dryly, moving toward the windows. “Do all your kidnapping victims get the penthouse treatment, or am I special?”

He removed his suit jacket, draping it over the back of a chair. The movement pulled his white shirt tight across his shoulders, and I forced myself to look away.

“You’re the first,” he said, his voice low. “Consider yourself unique.”

“Lucky me.” I ran my fingers along the back of a leather sofa, trying to project confidence I didn’t feel. “So what now? Are you going to chain me to the bed?”

I meant it as a joke—a harsh one, meant to make him uncomfortable. But when I turned to face him, the look in his eyes made the words die in my throat. There was heat there, dark and dangerous.

“Don’t tempt me, Eden,” he warned, and something deep inside me tightened at the way he said my name.

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to remain steady. “This isn’t a game, Dorian. You can’t just uproot my life because you decided I need protection.”

“This isn’t a game,” he agreed, stepping closer. “This is survival. Yours. And I’m not taking chances with it.”

The intensity in his eyes should have frightened me. Instead, it sent a thrill through me I had no business feeling. I took a step back, putting the sofa between us.

“I have a life,” I insisted. “A job. Responsibilities. People will notice I’m missing.”

“It’s been taken care of.” His casual dismissal of my entire existence sparked fresh anger.

“What does that mean? What did you do?”

“James has been informed you’re on a special assignment. Your rent has been paid for the next three months. Your bills are covered.”

My jaw dropped. “You had no right—”

“I had every right,” he interrupted, his voice hard. “The moment Viktor’s men targeted you because of me, I had every right to do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

The implication of his words hit me. “So this is guilt? You feel responsible, so you’ve decided to take over my life?”

He moved then, circling the sofa with the grace of a predator until he stood before me, close enough that I had to tilt my head to meet his gaze.

“This isn’t guilt,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “This is necessity.”

I should have been terrified—I was terrified, in a way. But mixed with that fear was something else entirely, something electric that made my skin feel too tight, too warm. The contradiction was maddening.

His words from my apartment echoed in my head: You’re everything to me. And Viktor knows it. The confession that had caught me completely off guard, leaving me speechless long enough for him to bundle me out the door. Now, standing in his penthouse, those words took on a new, more disturbing meaning. I was a liability to him—and maybe something more dangerous too.

“How long?” I asked, hating the slight shake in my voice.

“As long as it takes.”

I laughed, the sound hollow. “And I’m just supposed to sit here like a good little prisoner until you decide it’s safe for me to have my life back?”

“You’re not a prisoner, Eden.”

“Really? Because from where I’m standing, that’s exactly what I am.”

His eyes darkened. “You’re under my protection.”

“I didn’t ask for your protection,” I said, lifting my chin defiantly. “And I sure as hell don’t want it.”

“What you want,” he said, leaning closer, “doesn’t change what you need.”

We stood there, locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to back down. I was painfully aware of how close he was, of the heat coming from his body, of the subtle scent of his cologne mixing with something darker, more masculine.

“You’re not leaving until Viktor Marku is dealt with,” he said, voice low and unyielding. “No matter what you say.”

“We’ll see about that,” I shot back, already planning my escape.

His smile was slow and knowing, as if he could read my thoughts. “I wouldn’t try to leave. My security is thorough. And I’d hate to have to chain you to the bed after all.”

The statement hung between us, charged with something that had nothing to do with threats and everything to do with the electricity in the air.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I challenged, my voice barely above a whisper.

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing my cheek. The casual touch sent sparks racing along my skin.

“Don’t test me, Eden,” he murmured. “You might not like what you discover.”

Or worse, I might like it too much.