CHAPTER FOUR
The first thing I felt was the pounding in my head, a dull, relentless throb that refused to fade. I groaned softly, eyelids fluttering open, the dim light of the room making me wince. For a moment, I didn't move. The sheets beneath me felt too soft and unfamiliar. This wasn't my room.
Panic shot through me as I pushed myself upright. The walls… the furniture… it looked familiar, but it wasn't mine. My heart stumbled in my chest until the realization struck like a blade—this was William's room.
My breath caught. Last night flashed in my head, it had been late and I hadn't really looked around. Now, fully awake, the thought of where I lay made my chest tighten.
How did I end up in his bed?
Heat rushed to my cheeks as I threw the sheets off me in a frenzy. My clothes were still on, but that did little to soothe the dread that clenched my stomach. If William found me here, on his bed, he'd…
"Oh no…" The whisper left my lips as fear curled in my gut.
I scrambled to my feet, stumbling toward the door with the kind of urgency only terror could bring. If he saw me like this, if I had stained his sheets in any way, he would explode. He didn't let me touch his bed yesterday; now I had ruined it. I was done for.
My trembling hand grasped the door handle, twisting it quickly…
But before I could pull the door open, it swung open and worst of all…William stood there, blocking the way.
Everything inside me froze. My eyes widened as the shock knocked the breath out of me. My knees gave out before I could stop myself, and I went tumbling forward.
But before I could hit the ground, his arms caught me. His hand pressed against my waist, steadying me as his eyes locked onto mine.
The world went quiet.
For a heartbeat, all I wanted to see, all I wanted to drown in was just his dark gaze, the sharp line of his jaw, the heat of his hand burning through the thin fabric at my side. I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering so fast it made me dizzy.
Then, reality came crashing back, and I shoved against his chest, forcing myself upright. "I…I'm sorry," I stammered, eyes darting anywhere but his. "I didn't mean to… I shouldn't have…your bed, I swear, I won't do it again. Please, forgive me." I stuttered, trying to piece my failed vocabulary together.
His expression didn't change, only his eyes darkening like storm clouds gathering and then he raised his hand. I flinched, my whole body recoiled, bracing for the sting of his palm across my face. My heart pounded so loudly I swore he could hear it.
But the blow never came.
His hand froze midair… then slowly dropped back to his side. His fists clenched instead, knuckles whitening as though he was at war with himself.
And then, without a word, he scooped me up again.
My breath caught as my body lifted off the floor. I pushed against his chest, squirming, but it was useless. His strength swallowed me whole as he carried me back toward the bed.
"No…please," I whispered, panic lacing every word, though my voice barely carried.
He didn't answer. He simply placed me down onto the mattress. His touch was careful, almost gentle, but I still recoiled, curling into myself as if distance could protect me.
William turned away, walking toward his drawer. The sound of it sliding open made my heart leap into my throat. My mind screamed at me. 'gun…gun'
The memory of him shooting my mother right in the head hit me like a fresh wound. My breath came in shallow gasps. "I…I didn't mean it," I rushed out, words tumbling over themselves in desperation. "I didn't mean to stain your bed or upset you. Please don't…"
The drawer shut with a thud.
When he turned back, there was no weapon in his hand. Only a first aid box.
My chest tightened, shame pricking at me. My lips parted, but no words came.
He sat down beside me, the bed dipping under his weight. My body tensed, my throat dry, as his large hand reached for mine. Slowly, almost too carefully, he unlatched the box and pulled out a small balm.
I bit my lip, watching in silence as he held my hand, his grip strangely tender. He rubbed the balm across my bruised skin, his touch deliberate, steady.
The coolness seeped into my burns, soothing the ache. My eyes stung—not from pain, but from the unfamiliar gentleness. "I'm sorry," the words slipped out again, soft and shaky.
His grip tightened on the balm and then it clattered against the wall before I could blink.
William's jaw was clenched tight, his teeth grinding as fury radiated off him. "Stop apologizing to me!" His voice tore through the room, sharp and raw.
I froze, heart clawing its way into my throat. His body trembled as if holding back something monstrous. Then, with a guttural sound, he turned and slammed his fist into the wall.
Again.
And again.
The sound of flesh meeting stone echoed harshly, until crimson streaks painted his knuckles. My breath caught as I pulled my knees to my chest, curling into the smallest space I could. If he turned that anger on me—if I pushed him too far—he wouldn't stop at the wall.
But then he spun back to me, eyes blazing.
"You don't answer to anyone but me," he shouted, voice breaking with an edge that chilled me to the bone. "No one gives you orders. No one touches you. You are mine, Katrina. Do you understand?"
Tears welled in my eyes, spilling over before I could stop them. My lips trembled as I nodded, the weight of his words pressing into my chest until breathing became difficult.
One tear slipped free, trailing down my cheek.
William's rage faltered. His shoulders dropped, his eyes softening just slightly. He stepped closer, and before I could pull back, his hand brushed my cheek.
Warm. Gentle.
He wiped the tear away with his thumb, his touch lingering. My eyelids fluttered shut, surrendering to that unexpected tenderness, as if his hand carried the power to silence every storm inside me.
When I opened my eyes again, his face was closer. Too close. His gaze was fixed, heavy, drawn to my lips.
And mine—betrayal of betrayals—fell to his. Those dark, rough lips looked dangerously inviting, and every part of me screamed to lean forward, to taste the forbidden.
The air between us thinned. My chest rose and fell faster, my body trembling with a want I couldn't name.
Then—
A knock shattered the moment.
William's jaw flexed as he tore himself away, running a hand through his hair, unbuttoning the top of his shirt as though to shake off the sudden tension.
"Report," his voice rang out, sharp and cold.
A muffled voice responded from the other side. "Sir, we found Caroline in the kitchen… unconscious."
The words slammed into the air like a gunshot.
William's expression darkened, fury twisting his features. "Get away from my door," he barked, his voice like thunder. Heavy footsteps retreated down the hall.
Silence lingered, thick and suffocating.
And then, without warning, William turned back to me.
His hand gripped my jaw as he crushed his lips to mine, a rough, demanding kiss that stole the air from my lungs. My body jolted with shock, but before I could think, before I could fight, my lips parted against his.
And I kissed him back.
His mouth was hot, demanding, a rough storm that pulled me under and left my knees weak. My body trembled as his hand traveled up, bold and firm, and his fingers closed around my left boob, squeezing softly, sending sparks of confusion and heat across my chest.
The kiss broke as suddenly as it began. His forehead pressed against mine, his breath harsh, uneven, his chest rising and falling as if he had run a thousand miles.
"Come with me," he muttered hoarsely, voice low, raw, and almost unrecognizable. "Outside."
I couldn't even think. My head was spinning, my lips swollen from his kiss, my body torn between fear and I was damn horny as much as I didn't want to. Yet when he pulled back, my head moved on its own. I nodded, small and frantic, because saying no to him wasn't an option.
He didn't wait. He turned and moved toward the door, and I followed quickly, my legs weak beneath me but my heart pounding too loudly to care.
I could hear whispers as we trailed down the stairs and the crowd that had gathered outside the kitchen scattered in haste immediately they saw us, as though they had been waiting only for the chance to vanish.
The kitchen door stood open, the faint light spilling across the floor. And right in the center, sprawled on the tiles, was Caroline.
Her body was still, her hair spilling around her like a dark veil, and an old hand towel covered her face. For a heartbeat, my chest froze.
William strode forward, his movements sharp with anger. He yanked the towel away from her face with such force that her head jerked slightly. His jaw tightened, and the muscle in his cheek ticked.
I lingered at the doorway, unsure if I should step closer, but before I could decide, his voice tore through the air like a whip.
"Is anyone out there?" he barked, his words sharp, commanding.
My body flinched as if the question had been directed at me, but it wasn't. A servant came running in, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste, his head bowing so low it nearly touched the floor.
"Sir!" he gasped, trembling.
"Get me a bucket of water," William ordered, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.
The servant darted away like his life depended on it. Seconds stretched long and heavy, my chest aching with each shallow breath I drew. Then the boy returned, clutching a large bucket brimming with water, his hands shaking from the weight.
William didn't even glance at him. "Put it down and get lost."
The order was cold, effortless.
The servant obeyed instantly, setting the bucket down and fleeing without so much as a backward glance.
William turned slowly, his gaze landing on me, pinning me in place. He walked toward me, each step controlled, deliberate. My pulse quickened with every sound of his boots against the floor.
Then he stopped before me, close enough that his shadow consumed mine. His voice was quiet, but sharp enough to cut through my chest.
"Pick it up," he said. "Dump the water on her and after I want you to slap her four times across the cheek. Put in a good show for me."
My body froze. My heart stumbled. His words rang in my head, but they didn't make sense. I blinked at him, my throat dry, my mouth refusing to form sound.
He wanted me to pour water on Caroline. Caroline, the woman everyone whispered was his fiancée.
If he had truly forgotten his promise to me, if he had cast it aside so easily and taken a fiancée, then this must be a test. It had to be. One wrong move, and I would be the one discarded.
My lips trembled, and the words tumbled out in a whisper before I could stop them. "I… I wouldn't dare, Chairman. Not on her… not on your fiancée."
The moment the words left me, regret sliced through my chest. His gaze darkened instantly, a storm rising in his eyes.
His hand shot out, gripping my jaw in a hold that was firm but not brutal. My breath caught as he tilted my face up, forcing my eyes to meet his. The weight of his stare sank deep into my bones, making my knees wobble.
"She isn't my fiancée," he muttered, his voice harsh, low, filled with a dangerous finality. "I ended it. Caroline means nothing. And if you don't do as I say in ten seconds…" His thumb pressed harder against my jaw, his words burning into me. "…the consequences will be dire."
My chest caved in, a tremor racing down my spine. Before I could think, my hands reached for the bucket, the cold metal biting into my palms as I lifted it with trembling arms.
I staggered forward and tipped it over Caroline.
The water splashed across her face and body, soaking her dress, pooling beneath her. She jolted upright with a gasp, choking, panting, clawing at the floor as though she had been dragged from the depths of a nightmare.
The sight seared into me, a cruel reflection of myself, of this morning when Caroline had dumped water on me without hesitation. Before my thoughts betrayed me, before doubt could creep in, my hand snapped across her cheek.
Once. Twice.
Her head whipped to the side.
Three. Four.
The sound echoed in the silence and somewhat I felt satisfied.
Caroline's eyes widened in disbelief, her cheek red and stinging. "How dare you!" she shrieked, her voice breaking with fury as she scrambled back.
My breath hitched, fear slicing through me. I stumbled away, my body retreating, my throat tight with the weight of what I had just done.
But before Caroline could rise, before she could spit another word, William's growl ripped through the kitchen.
The sound made the air itself tremble.
His hand came down hard across her cheek, the slap ringing louder than mine ever had. Caroline fell flat against the floor, blood spilling from her lip as a scream tore from her throat.
"Where is the food I told you to prepare?" William's voice boomed, filled with venom.
Caroline's wide eyes darted around, searching for an answer, but finding none. Fear painted her face pale, and she stammered, lost, trembling.
Her knees gave out, and she crawled forward, clutching at his leg desperately. "Please! Forgive me!" she sobbed, her voice hoarse.
William bent, his hand gripping her jaw with such force that his nails dug into her skin, drawing thin lines of blood. Caroline whimpered.
"Forgive you?" His words were ice. "Fine. I'll forgive you. But I don't break promises."
Then, with a flick of his leg, he shoved her off him. She crumpled onto the floor, her sobs echoing.
"Men!" His command tore through the silence, and two guards appeared instantly, their faces expressionless.
"Take her away," William ordered, his voice sharp and merciless. "In thirty minutes, chop her hands off. Discard what's left outside."
Caroline's scream pierced the air, raw and desperate. "No! Please! Please, William, don't…"
Her pleas were cut off as the guards grabbed her, dragging her across the floor. Her nails scraped against the tiles, her voice fading with every second until the hallway swallowed her cries.
I stood frozen, my breath shallow, my chest trembling. My hands shook at my sides.
If he wouldn't even spare Caroline—Caroline who was once his fiancée—what chance did I have?
The answer clawed at my chest: none.
"Katrina's maid," William barked suddenly, his voice snapping me out of my thoughts.
Almost instantly, ten maids rushed in, heads bowed, skirts brushing the floor as they lined up.
"Get her ready for the evening," William commanded. "And tell the cook to prepare dinner for the feast."
"Yes Chairman," one of them answered quickly, her voice trembling. She darted out of the room to carry out his order.
The others turned to me, one of them gestured gently, and I followed as they led me out of the kitchen.