Midnight call: married to the deadly CEO by dark queen

Anna's bag dug into her shoulder as Ethan dragged her down the narrow apartment stairs.

He didn't touch her roughly — he didn't have to. The phone in her pocket felt like a live coal, burning through her jeans, reminding her with every step that she couldn't run.

Outside, the city was asleep but not silent. A dog barked in the distance. A motorcycle rattled past. But on this cracked sidewalk, under the flickering streetlamp, Anna felt completely alone — except for him.

Ethan's black car waited at the curb, sleek and polished like a shark in the dark. A driver in a black suit stood by the back door, eyes fixed on some invisible point beyond them.

Ethan opened the door and gestured for her to get in. His eyes said there would be no arguing.

Anna hesitated, hugging her bag tighter. "Where are you taking me?"

Ethan didn't answer. He just raised one brow — get in.

Her heart hammered as she ducked into the car. The inside smelled like leather and cold cologne, all clean lines and silent judgment. Ethan slipped in beside her and the door clicked shut with a finality that made her throat tighten.

The car pulled away from the curb. The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and red outside the tinted windows. Anna clenched her bag on her lap like a lifeline.

"Talk to me," she said, her voice barely steady. "Why me? Why the phone? Who are they?"

Ethan didn't look at her. He tapped something on his own phone, the faint glow lighting the sharp edge of his jaw.

"Why me?" she demanded again, her fear cracking into anger. "Answer me, damn it!"

His eyes flicked to her, cold and sharp as a knife. "Do you believe in curses, Miss Blake?"

She opened her mouth — closed it again. She thought of the ringing phone. The voice. The voicemail. The knock at her door that wasn't him.

"…I do now."

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Good. Then this will be easier."

Anna pressed back into the seat as he leaned closer. "That phone is older than you think. It's been passed from hand to hand for decades — centuries, maybe. No one knows where it came from. Or who made it ring."

He tapped the back of her seat. The driver adjusted the rearview mirror but didn't speak.

Ethan went on, his voice low and calm. "Every person who answers it is marked. Their life, their secrets, their soul — all bound to the line. Some die fast. Some die slow. But they all die."

Anna's stomach turned. "So I'm dead already."

His eyes locked with hers — a flicker of something almost human behind the cold. "Not yet."

She wanted to ask why him — why was he here, dealing with this, dragging her out of her crumbling apartment in the middle of the night.

But the words died on her tongue when the car slowed. They'd pulled up to a massive gate, black iron and gold crests gleaming under the streetlight. Beyond it loomed a mansion — glass, steel, shadows. A fortress.

"Where is this?" she whispered.

"My house," Ethan said simply.

The gate slid open. The driver rolled past like this was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Anna swallowed. "So I'm your prisoner now?"

His lips twitched. "Call it what you like. But in here, they can't reach you."

She wanted to laugh — or scream. Instead, she stared out the window, trying to swallow the terror clawing up her throat.

The car stopped at the front steps. Ethan stepped out first, then turned and held out his hand.

Anna hesitated — then took it. His palm was warm, his grip unyielding.

Inside, the house was silent. Too silent. Marble floors. Black walls. A hallway that seemed to stretch forever.

Ethan led her to a door at the far end, then paused. "You'll stay here tonight."

She peered inside — a guest room bigger than her whole apartment. Soft lights. A bed that looked like it had never been touched.

Anna turned to him, her anger finally bubbling up past her fear. "You think this is a hotel? You think I'll just—"

"Sleep," Ethan said, voice flat. "You'll need it."

"And tomorrow?" she snapped.

His eyes flicked to her lips, then back to her eyes — a warning and a promise all at once.

"Tomorrow, you learn how to survive."

He turned and walked away, leaving Anna alone with her bag, her heartbeat, and the cursed phone that wouldn't stop burning in her pocket.

Outside the window, the wind howled like a whisper — or a warning.