Seraphina didn't give him another glance.
Instead, with calm precision, she grabbed the duvet, wrapped it around herself, and pulled the laptop onto her lap.
Without hesitation, she started typing.
Working. Focusing.
Ignoring him.
Ezrin's smirk didn't fade—but his amusement shifted.
He watched her, arms still crossed, eyes dark with something unreadable.
She had just dismissed him.
In his own house.
In his own game.
And that?
That was interesting.
Seraphina, still typing, acted like he wasn't even there.
Not tense. Not waiting for his next move.
Just—completely unbothered.
Ezrin let a slow breath out through his nose, his fingers twitching slightly.
"So, that's how she wanted to play this?" He thought.
"Fine." He took a step back, his voice calm, teasing. "Enjoy your work, then."
She didn't reply.
Didn't even pause.
Ezrin chuckled under his breath, shaking his head slightly before turning toward the door.
But as he walked out, he knew one thing for sure.
This wasn't over.
Not even close.
As soon as Ezrin left the room, Seraphina's fingers paused over the keyboard.
And then—she smirked.
She won.
He had been playing with her, teasing, testing, trying to control the situation.
But now? Now, she was the one in control.
She pulled the duvet tighter around her, settling comfortably.
If he thought she was going to break and beg for his clothes—he was wrong.
She would stay like this all day.
Wrapped in nothing but a towel and a blanket, completely ignoring him.
And then—she would watch.
Watch how long he could last before he cracked.
Because if there was one thing she knew about Ezrin—
He hated being ignored.
Ezrin sat in the lounge, arms resting on the back of the couch, his fingers tapping against the leather.
His mind replayed the last few minutes.
Seraphina had—against all odds—flipped the entire situation.
She was sitting in his bed, in his penthouse, wrapped in nothing but a towel and a blanket… and yet, she acted like he wasn't even there.
Like she wasn't affected.
Ezrin exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.
"She's impossible."
But then, his thoughts drifted to her injuries.
Her forehead, her arm, her ankle—
She was so damn stubborn she probably hadn't even treated them properly after her shower.
He sighed.
"If she won't take care of herself, then I will."
Without another thought, he stood up, grabbed the first aid kit, and headed to the bedroom.
The moment he stepped inside, his eyes landed on her.
Seraphina was exactly where he left her.
Wrapped in the duvet, laptop balanced on her lap, fingers typing effortlessly.
And the most irritating part?
She didn't even look up.
Didn't acknowledge him. Didn't react.
Ezrin's grip on the first aid kit tightened slightly.
"So, she was really going to act like this?" He thought.
Fine.
Then he would remind her exactly who she was dealing with.
Ezrin walked over without hesitation, placing the first aid kit on the bedside table.
Then—he sat on the bed beside her, arms resting on his thighs.
His gaze locked onto hers."Treat your wounds."
Seraphina didn't even look up from her screen.
"I will." Her voice was calm, distant. "Why do you care?"
Ezrin's jaw ticked.
Without another word, he reached forward—grabbing the laptop and snapping it shut.
Seraphina's breath hitched as she finally looked at him, eyes narrowing.
Before she could protest, he moved.
In one swift motion, he straddled her thighs—his weight pressing down just enough to trap her.
The duvet still covered her, but that didn't matter.
Ezrin leaned in, his hands pressing into the bed on either side of her.
"Because I do." His voice was low, firm. "Now sit still."
Seraphina's fingers twitched against the duvet, her heartbeat uneven.
This was not how she expected things to go.
Seraphina's breath caught as Ezrin's weight settled over her.
The warmth of his body pressed against the duvet, pinning her down.
She wasn't exposed, but she felt it.
Felt his presence, his control, the way he stole the space between them.
Her fingers tightened around the edges of the blanket, gripping it like it was her only defense.
Ezrin's gaze burned into her."Now, sit still."
Seraphina forced her expression to remain neutral."Get off me, Ezrin."
His lips tilted into something colder."No."
Her jaw clenched. "You're being ridiculous."
Ezrin's hand reached toward the bedside table, grabbing the first aid kit.
Without breaking eye contact, he flipped it open.
"And you're being reckless." His tone was calm, deliberate. "Now, be quiet and let me do this."
Seraphina exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling in her chest.
But she knew him. He wasn't going to move. Not until he got what he wanted. Not until she let him take care of her. She looked away, jaw tightening.
"Fine. Make it quick."
Ezrin smirked, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. Something darker.
"Good girl."
And that?
That made her stomach twist in a way she didn't like. Ezrin didn't waste time.
He reached for her injured arm first, carefully unwrapping the fresh bandage she had put on herself carelessly.
Seraphina kept her gaze away from him, her expression unreadable—but he could see the tension in her shoulders.
She hated this. Hated needing him. Hated letting him do this. But she wasn't stopping him either.
Ezrin smirked to himself."You can glare at the wall all you want, but I'm still doing this."
Seraphina exhaled sharply, but didn't reply.
Ezrin's fingers brushed over her skin as he applied the antiseptic.
She flinched. His smirk deepened. "Still pretending you don't need this?"
Seraphina's jaw clenched. "Just finish it."
Ezrin chuckled under his breath, but said nothing.
He worked methodically, wrapping her arm with precise movements.
Then, without a word, he reached for her ankle.
Seraphina immediately stiffened.
"Ezrin—"
"Relax." His voice was smooth, but firm. "You said make it quick, didn't you?"
Seraphina pressed her lips into a thin line, but didn't stop him.
He carefully lifted the duvet just enough to expose her ankle—nothing else.
His fingers grazed her skin, feeling the warmth of the bruise beneath his touch.
His jaw tightened. She had been walking on this. Fighting through the pain like it didn't exist.
"Stubborn woman." He thought.
Ezrin's hands moved with a different kind of care now—one she wouldn't expect from him.
Seraphina noticed.
For a brief second, her guarded expression wavered. Ezrin didn't comment on it. Didn't tease.
He just finished wrapping her ankle, securing it properly.
When he was done, he finally leaned back, studying his work."There. Now, was that so hard?" Seraphina exhaled, finally meeting his gaze."Are you done?" Ezrin smirked. "For now."
But he didn't move. Didn't climb off her. Didn't let her escape.
Instead, he let his hands rest on either side of her, his voice dropping lower—"Now, are you going to thank me?"
Seraphina's fingers tightened around the duvet.
Because she knew one thing for certain—
This wasn't over.
Seraphina tilted her head, meeting his gaze with an infuriating smirk.
"You're awfully invested in someone who isn't yours, Ezrin."
Ezrin's smirk froze. His jaw tightened, but he didn't move—yet.
Seraphina leaned in slightly, her voice smooth, taunting.
"What's wrong? Can't stand the thought of me not needing you?"
His eyes darkened instantly, amusement fading into something far more dangerous.
But she wasn't done.
Her smirk deepened, and then—she went for the kill.
"You know, Elias also thinks he can control me." She let the words linger, her voice almost casual. "Must be exhausting for you both."
Ezrin snapped. The tension shattered in an instant. His hands tightened around her wrists, pinning her down harder against the bed.
His smirk was gone. His voice? Low. Cold. Seething.
"Don't—" His grip tightened."Ever. Compare me. To him."
Seraphina's breath hitched, her pulse spiking.
She had won. But at what cost?
Ezrin's breath was slow, controlled—but his grip on her wasn't.
His fingers dug into her wrists, pressing her into the bed, his weight trapping her completely.
Seraphina felt it immediately—this was different.
His usual taunting smirk? Gone. His teasing amusement? Nowhere to be found.
Instead, his eyes burned with something darker. Something unstable.She had pushed too far.
Ezrin leaned closer, his breath ghosting over her lips.
"You want to test me, Seraphina?" His voice was low, laced with dangerous amusement. "Fine. Let's see how far you're willing to go."
Before she could respond—his hand moved.
Not to restrain. To claim.
He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze as his fingers brushed against her bare throat, pressing lightly—possessively.
His thumb traced the faint bruise he had left on her before.
His mark. His.
Seraphina's breath hitched, her body betraying her for just a fraction of a second.
Ezrin noticed. His smirk returned, but it wasn't playful. It was victorious."Not so confident now, are you?"
His grip tightened—just enough to remind her of the power shift.
"You act like you have control, Seraphina." His lips were inches from hers. "But let's get one thing straight."
His fingers trailed lower, over the exposed skin of her collarbone, down to where the towel barely covered her.
Seraphina's stomach twisted, but she kept her expression neutral.
She wouldn't let him win. She refused. So, she smirked, masking the uncertainty tightening in her chest. "Go on then, Ezrin." Her voice was quiet, but firm. "Show me how much control you really have."
Ezrin's eyes flashed with something unreadable.
And then—He did exactly that.
Ezrin's fingers ghosted over the towel, gripping the fabric just slightly—just enough to remind her that he could take this further if he wanted to.
His breath was steady, his control unshaken.
Or so she thought.
Because the moment his fingertips brushed against her bare skin, something flickered in his expression.
For a split second—hesitation. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but Seraphina saw it.
Felt it. This wasn't about power anymore. It wasn't about control. His grip didn't tighten. It didn't move lower.
Instead, his breathing changed—shallow, uneven.
His smirk was gone, replaced by something else entirely. Something darker. Heavier.
His gaze, which had been filled with taunting confidence, now carried something unreadable.
Seraphina's pulse quickened—not from fear, but from something far more dangerous.
Because for the first time, Ezrin looked unsure. As if he had just crossed a line he hadn't meant to. And that realization? It shook him.
His fingers, which had been firm against her skin, slowly loosened.
His jaw tightened, his expression shifting from dominance to something else—something vulnerable, conflicted. Ezrin never hesitated. Never wavered. Yet now, as he hovered above her, his body tense, his grip faltering—Seraphina saw the truth.
This wasn't just a game to him anymore.
And that? that was far more dangerous than anything else.
But then his gaze changed.
Ezrin's fingers gripped the towel, firm, unwavering.
There was no hesitation. No second-guessing.
His breath was steady, his movements deliberate—a man who always got what he wanted.
And right now? What he wanted was to remind her exactly who was in control.
Seraphina felt the shift immediately. This wasn't teasing anymore. It wasn't a game.
This was Ezrin crossing every unspoken boundary between them, taking what he believed was already his.
His fingers tightened against the fabric, his other hand pressing into the mattress beside her, caging her in completely.
Seraphina's breath hitched, her body tensing instinctively. She refused to look away, to let him see any sign of weakness. But Ezrin? He wasn't looking for weakness.
His smirk was gone. His gaze burned into her—possessive, consuming.
"You keep pushing me, Seraphina." His voice was low, dangerous. "Are you ready for what happens next?"
She swallowed, her pulse betraying her. But she wouldn't let him win. Not like this.
So, she lifted her chin, her voice smooth despite the erratic beating of her heart. "Then stop talking, Ezrin." His grip on the towel tightened. And this time—he didn't stop. Ezrin moved without hesitation.
With a swift motion, he grabbed the duvet and tossed it aside, leaving Seraphina beneath him in nothing but a towel.
Completely vulnerable. Completely at his mercy.
Her breath hitched, but she didn't flinch. Didn't beg. Didn't move.
She just stared at him, daring him, refusing to let him see even a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
Ezrin's lips curled slightly, not in amusement—but in something darker.Challenge accepted. Without a word, he reached for the first aid kit.
Seraphina's gaze flickered to his hands just as he pulled out a clean strip of gauze.
Before she could react, he gripped her wrists and bound them together—tight enough to hold, loose enough to not hurt.
Her pulse quickened, but her voice remained steady. "What do you think you're doing?"
Ezrin's smirk deepened as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over her skin."Making sure you don't run."
One hand slid down, trailing along her exposed thigh, his grip firm. The other?
It rested dangerously close to the knot of her towel, fingers brushing against the fabric in silent warning.
One pull. That's all it would take. Seraphina knew it. Ezrin knew it. And yet—he didn't pull.
He just watched her, waiting. Waiting for her to break.
Waiting for her to say the words that would either make him stop—or let him go further.
Seraphina's heart pounded. Because in that moment, she understood something terrifying.
He was testing her. Not just her limits. Her trust. And the worst part?
She didn't know if she wanted him to fail.
Seraphina's breathing was steady, but inside—she felt the weight of the moment.
Ezrin's hand remained on the towel, his grip firm, his fingers grazing the edge like a silent question.
But he didn't pull. Not yet. He was waiting. Watching. Testing her.
Seraphina swallowed, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
"This is pointless, Ezrin." Her voice was smooth, controlled. "We both know you won't do it."
Ezrin's smirk deepened, but his eyes darkened—challenging.
"You sound so sure." His voice was low, dangerously calm. "Should I prove you wrong?"
Her pulse spiked, but she held her ground.
She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of fear.
"If you wanted to, you already would have."
His fingers pressed slightly against her thigh, his other hand tightening on the towel—just a fraction.
Just enough to make her question herself. Ezrin leaned closer, his breath ghosting over her jaw."You think I won't?" Seraphina exhaled sharply, but didn't look away.Ezrin watched her for another second.
Then—his grip on the towel loosened.
His hand trailed away from it, moving back to her bound wrists.
Seraphina's chest rose and fell with controlled steadiness, but she knew what just happened.
She had been right. He wouldn't take it further. Not without her.
Ezrin's jaw clenched, realizing she had called his bluff. But instead of frustration—there was something else in his gaze.
Something dangerous.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Seraphina." His voice was quiet, but filled with warning.
Seraphina's lips tilted into a small smirk. "So are you." Ezrin let out a breath, his grip finally releasing her wrists. He leaned back slightly, his eyes still locked on hers.
And then—he reached for the gauze, undoing the knot with practiced ease.
Her hands were free. But the tension between them? It was far from over. Ezrin didn't move away. Didn't break the tension. Didn't give her the chance to breathe.
Instead, he reached for the knot of the gauze, undoing it with precise fingers—but his grip on her wrists remained firm for a moment longer.
A silent reminder.
A warning.
Then, without a word, he let go.
Seraphina expected him to walk away, expected the moment to pass. But Ezrin? He had other plans. He stood up, walking toward the closet with slow, deliberate steps.
Her brows furrowed. "What are you—" Before she could finish, he turned back around, holding a fresh shirt and sweatpants.
Ezrin met her gaze, his smirk returning—dark, unreadable.
"You wanted clothes, didn't you?"
Seraphina's fingers tightened around the duvet.
She could already tell. He wasn't just handing them to her.
He was going to make her wear them himself. Ezrin sat back on the bed, placing the clothes beside him. "Arms up."
Seraphina scoffed, masking the unease curling in her stomach."I can dress myself."
Ezrin's fingers ghosted over the towel's edge, his touch barely there, but threatening.
"Can you?" His voice was smooth, teasing. "Because if you could, you would've done it by now."
Seraphina's jaw clenched. He wasn't going to let her win. Not this time.
Her pulse quickened as he lifted the shirt, waiting.Waiting for her to either resist—or submit. And in that moment, she realized something. This wasn't about control anymore.
This was about trust. And Ezrin was going to see exactly how much of it she was willing to give him. Seraphina held his gaze, refusing to look away.
"What about my inner wears?" Her voice was steady, but she knew the weight of the question.
Ezrin's smirk didn't waver. His fingers toyed with the fabric of the shirt in his hand, his expression unreadable. Then, with a slow tilt of his head, he spoke—calm, absolute.
"You don't need to wear them in front of me."
Seraphina's breath hitched. Her fingers tightened around the duvet, but she didn't react beyond that.
Didn't let him see the way his words sent an unexpected heat down her spine.
Ezrin noticed anyway. His smirk deepened, his gaze dark with amusement. "What? Feeling shy now?"
Seraphina scoffed, masking her unease with a sharp glare.
"In your dreams, Ezrin."
He chuckled, his voice dipping lower. "I wouldn't call them dreams."
The tension between them thickened, charged with something unspoken.
Ezrin leaned in slightly, holding the shirt out again.
"Arms up." His voice was smooth, teasing, but the authority in it left no room for argument.
Seraphina's pulse quickened, but she lifted her chin, determined not to let him win.
She would let him do this. But she wouldn't break. Ezrin watched her, waiting. And in that moment, she realized—
This wasn't about the clothes.This was about how much of herself she was willing to let him have.
Seraphina held her ground, refusing to let him see the hesitation crawling up her spine.
Ezrin sat there, calm, patient—waiting. The shirt in his hand, the challenge in his eyes, the weight of his words still lingering in the air.
"Arms up," he repeated, his voice softer this time, but no less commanding.
Seraphina's breath was steady, controlled. But inside, she felt the shift. He wasn't just dressing her. He was claiming something. A space in her mind. A space in her control. She could refuse.
She could push him away, grab the clothes and do it herself. But that would mean admitting this affected her. And she refused to give him that. So slowly—without breaking eye contact—She raised her arms.
Ezrin's smirk faltered for just a second. A flicker of something deeper in his gaze.
Then, he moved. With slow, deliberate precision, he slipped the shirt over her head.
His fingers brushed against her bare shoulders, ghosting down her arms as he pulled the fabric into place.
It was his shirt.Too big, drowning her in his scent. Seraphina felt the weight of it, felt the way it clung to her damp skin.
Ezrin tilted his head, admiring his work."Looks better on you." Seraphina exhaled sharply, masking the unease curling in her stomach. She had let him do this. But she still had control. She still had the last word.
So, she smirked, tilting her head."Enjoy it while you can, Holloway." Ezrin chuckled, dark and knowing.
"Oh, I will."
But as his fingers lingered near her waist, his touch deliberate, possessive—Seraphina realized something. This wasn't over. Not even close. Ezrin's gaze dragged over her, slow, deliberate.
She was now in his shirt—too big, drowning her in his scent, clinging to her damp skin. But it wasn't enough. Not for him.
Not yet.
Seraphina knew what was coming next. And so did he.
Ezrin reached to the side, grabbing the pair of sweatpants he had placed on the bed earlier.
He held them up slightly, his smirk returning. "Stand up." His voice was smooth, controlled. "I'll help you."
Seraphina scoffed, leaning back slightly against the pillows."I can wear pants on my own, Ezrin."
Ezrin's brow lifted, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Can you?" His gaze flickered down to her injured ankle, then back to her face. Seraphina's fingers tightened against the duvet.
He had a point.
She had struggled just walking out of the bathroom—how was she supposed to lift her injured foot to wear pants without making it worse?
Ezrin knew exactly what she was thinking. He leaned in slightly, dropping the sweatpants onto her lap.
"Go ahead, then." His voice was filled with amusement, a challenge hidden beneath his calm tone. "Let's see how well you do."
Seraphina's jaw tightened.
She wanted to prove him wrong. But as soon as she shifted to try, pain shot through her ankle, forcing her to pause.
Ezrin chuckled, shaking his head. "That's what I thought." Without another word—he moved.
He grabbed the sweatpants again, and before she could protest, he crouched down beside the bed.
Seraphina's breath hitched as his hands wrapped around her bare calf, lifting her injured foot gently.
His touch was warm, firm—but careful. Ezrin pushed one pant leg through, sliding it up her foot, over her ankle.
Then, with slow precision, he grabbed her other leg and did the same. His fingers trailed along her skin just slightly as he worked, his movements deliberate. Seraphina's pulse quickened, but she refused to react.
Refused to let him see how easily he was getting under her skin.
When he was done, he looked up—his face close to hers, his smirk lazy, knowing."That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Seraphina exhaled sharply, masking her nerves with a glare."I hate you."
Ezrin chuckled, standing back up. "No, you don't."
He reached for the drawstring of the sweatpants, pulling it tighter around her waist, fingers brushing against her skin.
His voice dropped slightly, teasing—"But you will, soon enough."
Seraphina's stomach twisted, but she kept her expression unreadable.
Because she knew one thing for sure—He wasn't just dressing her.
He was claiming her.