Ella avoided Alexander for two days.
After the kiss, she couldn't look at him. Couldn't think straight when he was near.She arrived early. Left late. Kept her head down.
But she felt him.His gaze.Always there.Watching. Waiting.
Tuesday afternoon, she was in the file room, searching for a contract from 2019.
"Need help?"
She turned. Daniel Chen—junior analyst, easy smile, harmless.
"I'm looking for the Meridian contract," she said.
"Top shelf. I'll get it." He reached up, grabbed the file. "Heavy. Careful."
Their fingers brushed when he handed it over. A brief, innocent touch.
"Thanks," Ella said, smiling.
"No problem." Daniel grinned. "So… is it true? You and Mr. Blackwood?"
Her smile faltered. "It's complicated."
"That's what people say when it's true." He leaned against the shelf, casual. "For what it's worth, I think it's cool. You seem nice. He seems… intense."
"That's one word for it."
Daniel laughed. The sound was warm. Normal.
Ella laughed too—for the first time in days.
"Listen," Daniel said. "If you ever want to grab coffee, you know, escape the office chaos—I know a great place—"
"She's busy."
They both jumped.
Alexander stood in the doorway, motionless. Face calm. Eyes lethal.
"Mr. Blackwood," Daniel straightened. "I was just helping Miss Montgomery—"
"I can see what you were doing." Alexander's voice was soft. Controlled. "Get back to work, Chen."
"Yes, sir." Daniel left fast. Too fast.
Silence.
"He was just helping me," Ella said.
"Was he?" Alexander stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "Looked like flirting to me."
"We were talking—"
"You were laughing," he cut in. "Smiling at him. Touching him."
"Our fingers brushed! That's not—"
"It's enough." His jaw flexed. "You're mine, Ella. I don't share."
"I'm not yours—"
His hand shot out. Grabbed her wrist. Pulled her closer.
"Say that again," he whispered. Dangerous.
Her pulse raced. "You can't control who I talk to—"
"Can't I?" His grip tightened. "My office. Now."
"Alexander—"
"Now."
His office was colder than usual.
He shut the door. Locked it. The click was sharp, final.
"Sit," he ordered.
"I'd rather stand—"
"I wasn't asking." His eyes burned. "Sit down."
She sat. Legs shaking.
He went to his desk, pulled a thick stack of files, and dropped them in front of her.
"What's this?"
"Work." His tone was ice. "I need all of these reviewed, summarized, and formatted. By midnight."
Her eyes widened. "That's fifty files—"
"Sixty-three, actually."
"That's impossible!"
"Then you'd better start now." He crossed his arms, leaning against the desk. "Unless you'd like to explain why you were flirting with Chen."
"I wasn't flirting!"
"You were smiling. Laughing. With another man." His voice lowered, heavy with possession. "That won't happen again."
"You're being ridiculous—"
"Am I?"
He moved fast—suddenly right in front of her, hands braced on the chair's armrests, trapping her in place.
"You're mine, Ella," he said softly. "That means no smiling at other men. No laughing with them. No touching them."
"That's insane—"
"That's the deal." His face was inches from hers. "You want to stay here? You follow my rules."
"What rules?"
"My rules."
He straightened, crossed the room to the closet, and pulled out a garment bag.
Unzipped it.
Inside was a navy-blue dress. High neck. Long sleeves. Conservative.
"What is that?"
"Your new uniform." He laid it on the desk. "You'll wear this. And only this. Every day."
"You're joking—"
"Do I look like I'm joking?" His tone was arctic. "That red dress at the gala—the way men looked at you—I hated it."
"So your solution is to dress me like a nun?"
"I'm dressing you appropriately." He pulled out another bag. "Seven of them. All modest. All professional. All mine."
"You can't control what I wear—"
"Read your contract. Section thirty-one." His lips curved faintly. "Dress code compliance. Subject to employer discretion."
"Your discretion," she spat.
"Exactly."
Ella's fists clenched. "This is abuse."
"This is protection." He stepped closer. "Every man in this building wants you. I see how they look. How they whisper." His hand touched her cheek. "I won't allow it."
"Allow it?" She stood, glaring. "I'm not your property—"
"Aren't you?"
His hand slid into her hair, possessive. "I own your debt. Your contract. Your time." His voice dropped, low and rough. "And after that kiss…" His gaze darkened. "I own this too."
His lips crushed against hers. Hard. Demanding.
Ella gasped, but he deepened the kiss, pulling her against him until her breath disappeared.
She should fight. Should push away.
But she didn't.
Her body melted into his, traitorous.
When he finally pulled back, both of them were trembling.
"Change," he said. Nodding to the dress. "Now."
"Here?"
"I'll turn around." His smirk was sinful. "Unless you want help."
Heat flooded her cheeks. "Turn around."
He did. Slowly.
Ella grabbed the dress, hands shaking. It was insane. All of it. But she had no choice.
She changed quickly. The fabric was soft, expensive—yet it covered everything. Neck to wrist to knee.
"Done," she whispered.
Alexander turned. His eyes swept over her. Slow. Possessive.
"Perfect," he murmured. "You look perfect."
"I look like I'm going to church."
"You look like mine."
He stepped closer, adjusted the collar, fingers brushing her throat.
"No more skin showing," he said. "No more temptation."
"For who? Me or everyone else?"
"Both." His voice softened. "You have no idea how hard it is, seeing you every day. Wanting you. Knowing other men want you too."
"So this is punishment?"
"No." His gaze caught hers. "This is me claiming you. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Yes." He tilted her chin up. "Punishment would be firing you. Ruining you. Making you suffer." His thumb grazed her lips. "This? This is me being gentle."
"Gentle?" she whispered. "You're controlling everything."
He smiled faintly. "Not everything. Not yet."
By 7 p.m., Ella was still working.
The files seemed endless. Her back ached. Her eyes burned.
Everyone else had gone home. The office was dark except for her desk lamp.
Footsteps approached.
She looked up. Alexander.
He set a coffee and sandwich in front of her.
"Eat," he said.
"I'm working—"
"Eat. Or I'll feed you myself."
The threat—or promise—in his tone made her believe him.
She ate. The sandwich was good. The coffee perfect.
He didn't leave. Just stood there. Watching.
"Why are you still here?" she asked quietly.
"Making sure you finish."
"Don't you trust me?"
"No." The word was immediate. "You'll try to leave early. Pretend you're done. I know how you think."
"You don't know anything about me."
"Don't I?"
He moved behind her, hands resting on her tense shoulders.
"You're stubborn," he said softly. "Independent. You hate being controlled."
His thumbs pressed into her muscles. Firm. Gentle.
"But you need it," he murmured. "Need someone to push you. Challenge you."
"That's not true—"
"Isn't it?" His hands slid to her neck, slow, deliberate. "You've been alone too long. Fighting everything by yourself. Making every decision alone." His breath brushed her ear. "Isn't it nice, for once, to let someone else take control?"
Ella's eyes fluttered shut. His hands felt too good. The tension bled away under his touch.
"That's cheating," she whispered.
"What is?"
"Making me feel good while being terrible."
He laughed, low and dark. "I'm good at it."
His hands moved lower, still proper—yet dangerously close.
"Tell me something," he said. "Why did you laugh with Chen?"
"Because he was funny—"
"The truth, Ella."
She hesitated. Then whispered, "Because it felt normal. He treated me like a person. Not a possession."
His hands froze.
"I treat you like a person," he said quietly.
"No." Her voice trembled. "You treat me like something you own."
Silence. Heavy.
"Maybe I do," he said finally. "Because losing you terrifies me."
Ella's eyes opened. "What?"
But he'd already stepped back. Hands gone. Warmth gone.
"Finish the work," he said, voice cold again. "I want it done by eleven."
He walked back to his office. Closed the door.
She sat there, stunned. Losing me?
What did he mean by that?
At eleven, she was finished.Sixty-three files. Reviewed. Summarized. Exhaustion in every bone.
She knocked on his door.
"Come in."
He sat behind his desk, still working, still immaculate.
"Done," she said, setting the files down.
He didn't look at them. He looked at her.
"Good," he said quietly. "You can go home."
She turned to leave.
"Ella."
She stopped.
"Wear the blue dress tomorrow. And every day after." His voice was soft. Possessive. "I'll make sure no man dares look at you again."
"Alexander—"
"That's a promise."
He stood, moved closer. Close enough for her to feel his breath.
"You're mine," he murmured. "And I protect what's mine. Even from themselves."
His hand brushed her cheek—gentle, terrifying.
"Go home," he whispered. "Before I change my mind about letting you leave."
Ella left fast, heart hammering.
Behind her, his voice followed, low and dangerous.
"Sleep well, sweetheart. Tomorrow… we start new rules."