The man who bought me didn't smile when I signed the contract.
He only said one thing:
"You belong to me now."
I froze. The pen hovered over the paper for a heartbeat too long. My mind screamed that this was insane, that I could still turn around and run, but the heavy weight of the contract in front of me reminded me that escape wasn't an option. Not anymore.
My father had left me with no choice. Debt, danger, desperation… and now, a husband I didn't want, a man I'd never met, waiting for me behind a door that I was about to cross.
I stepped into the mansion, my heels clicking against the marble floor, echoing through the cavernous hall. Everything smelled of leather and power, rich, intoxicating, cold. A chandelier hung overhead like a crown, glittering above my humiliation.
"Leave your things," a voice said. Smooth, deep, commanding. No warmth.
I looked up. He was standing at the top of the staircase, and my stomach dropped. He didn't look at me like a husband-to-be. He looked at me like I was property. And somehow, that made my pulse race.
Dark eyes. Sharp jaw. The kind of presence that made the air feel too heavy. He didn't move down the stairs; he didn't need to. Every inch of the room screamed his control.
"I…" I started, but the words died in my throat. I wasn't supposed to speak first. I didn't know the rules, but I had a feeling he did.
"I've read the contract," he said, stepping closer. Each footfall against the marble sounded like judgment. "And I intend to enforce it."
Enforce it. The words hit harder than a slap. This wasn't a marriage. This was ownership.
I swallowed, trying to keep my voice steady. "I… I just..."
"You don't get to just anything," he interrupted, his tone razor-sharp. "You follow the rules. My rules. From now on, everything belongs to me. Including you."
My knees threatened to buckle, but I held myself upright. "And if I refuse?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
He tilted his head, as if the question amused him. "You won't. Refusal isn't an option."
I should have been angry. I should have walked out, slammed the door, screamed. But instead, I felt a flicker of something… dangerous. Something I shouldn't be feeling. A pull, a temptation I knew I had no right to indulge in.
"I don't… I don't belong to anyone," I said, though my voice wavered.
He leaned closer, so close I could see the sharp lines of his cheek, the controlled tension in his jaw. "You do now," he said softly, and yet every word carried the weight of steel. "You belong to me. And you'll learn quickly… that my patience is limited."
I looked around for some way out, but there was none. The mansion was a cage, beautiful and lethal, and I was trapped inside it. My eyes darted to the staircase railing, the massive door behind me, anywhere but at him. But his presence filled every corner of the room.
"Follow me," he commanded.
I obeyed. My footsteps felt loud in the silence, echoing my fear, my hesitation, my confusion. He led me to a room that was mine now, not mine, of course but assigned to me. My bedroom, my cage. The space was immaculate, luxurious, but I couldn't see past the fact that I was now property.
He closed the door behind me, and I realized that sound meant more than security, it meant finality. No escape.
"Sleep here," he said. "Tomorrow, we begin your lessons."
Lessons. My throat went dry. What lessons? How to obey? How to kneel? How to survive him without breaking? The thought was suffocating.
"If I… if I try to leave…" I whispered, my fear slipping through the cracks of my voice.
He didn't answer immediately. He just looked at me, eyes sharp, calculating. Then he said, low and deliberate:
"Run if you want. But you're already mine."
My heart slammed against my ribs, and the door clicked shut behind him. The lock turned with a definitive finality. I was alone, trapped, and entirely at his mercy.
I sank to the floor, my back against the satin sheets of my new prison, and tried to catch my breath. Every instinct screamed danger, but another part of me… the part I hated, couldn't resist thinking… felt the pull of the man who had claimed me.
He wasn't just rich. He wasn't just ruthless. He was a force I could neither fight nor ignore. And somehow… that terrified me more than anything else.
I had no name for the fear, no words for the attraction, no escape from the reality that my life had just been sold, and there was nothing I could do about it.
And in that moment, as the door clicked shut, I realized, I wasn't his guest. I was his possession.
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