Chapter 7

Mirabelle’s POV

“Oh my God! I forgot my night wears,” the thought hit me as I stood dripping on the marble bathroom floor.

A towel was wrapped around me, my skin warm from the shower. I had ignored the dinner Celeste brought until I freshen up. Now I needed clothes.

I walked into the bedroom, my small bag sat on a chair as I opened it. I pulled out the few things I packed; jeans, a t-shirt, a sweater, an underwear. But there was no nightdress, no soft pants, no comfortable shirt.

My gaze drifted to the closet as I remembered what Celeste said. I quickly stood up, my lips in a deep frown.

The closet was large, it held dresses, silk blouses, tailored trousers. Everything was expensive, everything was for show. There was nothing soft, nothing for sleeping.

“Gosh!! What should I do. Why now! Why me!,” I said, as I sat on the bed, massaging my forehead softly.

But a small smile spread on my lips as I remembered Celeste’s words, “If you you need anything, press the button by the bed.”

I didn’t want to summon her like a servant. “But that's what she said,” my subconscious mind scolded.

“Just go and meet her. Theo is still in his study. I could ask for a simple shirt. It was better than pressing the button.”

I tightened the towel around my chest, as I opened my bedroom door. The corridor was empty, the lights were dim while the floor was cool under my bare feet.

“Celeste?” I whispered, as I walked down the hallway.

I passed several doors, all were closed. My gaze drifted to the small staircase at the end, as I went toward it.

“The hallways in this mansion is a maze,” I whispered, as I I passed a sitting room, then a library.

But my gaze was fixed on a door slightly open, as light spilled from the crack, as I pushed the door open.

The room was large, the walls black in colour. A huge bed stood in the center, covered in black linen. The furniture was heavy, a stark contrast to my soft gray suite.

My eyes scanned the space. A photograph in a silver frame sat on a dresser, a young boy stood with a man and a woman and a little girl.

The boy teeth was showing, as he pointed to an unknown place, while the rest was laughing.

My gaze drifted to the desk, papers were scattered on a desk, business documents. And without reading them, it dawned on me that this was Theo's room.

A chill went through me, as I turned to leave, but the door swung open.

Theo stood in the doorway. He still wore his shirt from earlier, but his tie was completely gone now. His green eyes took in the scene; Me, in his room, in only a towel, skin still damp and glistening.

He went completely still, his jaw tightening as his gaze dragged slowly down my body. When his eyes met mine again, they were darker.

"Well," he said, his voice a low rumble as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a deliberate click.

"Didn't know you were such a bad kitten,” his voice was low and dangerous, sending heat straight through my core as my face flushed.

I pulled the towel tighter, suddenly aware of the little fabric I wore.

"I was lost…I was looking for Celeste."

"In my bedroom,” he took a step forward, his eyes never leaving mine, definitely enjoying this. "Wearing nothing but a towel. What did you need from her that was so urgent it couldn't wait?"

"Clothes… I forgot my night things." My voice came out breathier than I intended.

"I see,” he looked me over again, slower this time, and I felt his gaze like a physical touch. His eyes moved from my wet hair to my bare shoulders, lingering on the water droplets that traced down to disappear beneath the towel, down to my exposed legs. "You could have used the button."

"I didn't want to," I said, my breathing becoming rapid.

"Of course not. You're stubborn, you like to do things the hard way." He took another step, closing the distance between us. I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "This is the hard way, Mirabelle."

"It…it was a mistake. I'm leaving," my voice was shaky, as my heart pounded in my chest, my pulse visible at my throat.

I tried to move past him, but he shifted, his arm coming up to block my path. His hand pressed against the doorframe beside my head, caging me in.

"Let me go!" My voice was loud, defiant, even as my chest heaved up and down.

"Or what?" His smirk deepened as he leaned closer, his face inches from mine. I could feel his breath on my lips. "You'll yell? You'll fight? We saw how that ended earlier."

Anger flashed in my chest, as it burned through the fear and the unwanted desire. "You are a vile man. You enjoy this, you enjoy making people feel small. It's pathetic."

"Careful," his smile faded, as his eyes darkened to forest green, almost black.

"No! I'm done being careful. You want a puppet, but I'm not a puppet. Move!"

I tried to push past him, but my hand landed flat against his chest. His heart was pounding as hard as mine. The heat of his skin through the thin shirt burned my palm. His muscles tensed under my touch, and I felt my legs weaken.

His hands grabbed my wrists, his grip firm and possessive, as he walked me backward.

"Stop it!" I said, my cheeks flushed, as I gasped, and in one smooth motion, he lifted me by the waist and set me on the desk.

The towel rode up dangerously high, exposing most of my thighs, the wood cold against my heated skin.

He stepped between my legs, forcing them apart to accommodate him, as heat flooded through me despite my anger.

"You talk too much," he said, his voice a rough whisper as his hands slid up to cup my jaw, tilting my face up. His thumbs stroked my cheekbones with surprising gentleness that contrasted with the steel in his grip.

He bent his head, and I felt his breath hot against my neck. His lips found the sensitive spot below my ear, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss there. His mouth warm and soft and absolutely wicked.

A shiver went through me, my body arching involuntarily toward him as a soft, traitorous moan escaped my throat.

My hands clutched at his shirt, unsure whether to push him away or pull him close

Heat pooled low in my belly, my thighs trembling on either side of his hips, as his lips traced lower, following the line of my neck.

But my hand came up, connecting hard with his cheek.

He went completely still, as he slowly lifted his head, a red mark blooming on his cheek. His jaw clenched, as his eyes went absolutely dark.

"What have I done," I thought, as ice flooded my veins even as heat still pulsed through me.

His hand moved to my neck, his fingers wrapping around my throat with deliberate slowness. He didn't squeeze hard, but the pressure was there; a warning, a claim.

He leaned close, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, and I felt his chest press against mine with each breath.

"Don't forget you belong to me," he whispered, his voice cold, as his breath sent shivers racing down my spine. "Or else."

His other hand slid down to grip my hip through the towel, holding me in place, keeping me spread open for him.

The dual sensations; his hand on my throat, his grip on my hip made my head spin.

"And for your rules," he said, his lips moved against my ear with each word, the sensation making me dizzy.

"Here is your first one. You will have dinner with me every evening at eight and you must be on time.

I said nothing, I couldn't. My heart beat wildly against his hand, betraying every emotion I tried to hide.

"Secondly," he continued, his voice a cruel whisper that somehow felt like a caress. His hand on my hip moved slightly, his fingers spreading, claiming more territory.

"Don't think you're special. You aren't a guest. You will work. You'll be my maid, you'll earn your keep in this house…you will learn your place."

A maid? The word hit me like a slap. He wanted to humiliate me, to break me down until there was nothing left.

"I can't be your maid," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady even as my body trembled beneath his touch.

His hand tightened slightly on my throat not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me he could.

Then, without warning, his teeth caught my earlobe, biting down with just enough pressure to send a jolt of sensation straight through me.

Another moan escaped my lips, louder this time, and I couldn't stop it, as heat pooled between my legs, shame and desire warring inside me, my hands still clutching his shirt.

He pulled back just enough to look at my face, his gaze fixed on my flushed cheeks, my parted lips, my dilated eyes, and a slow, wicked smirk formed on his lips.

"Your body says otherwise," he murmured, his thumb stroking slowly up and down my throat. "It's honest even when you lie."

"And," he said, his voice dropping even lower, intimate and dark. His face moved closer, his lips hovering just above mine, so close I could almost taste him. "Make sure you give me a goodnight kiss when I say so."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with promise and threat.

“You're a monster! I can't do that,” my eyes were already teary but I won't cry in front of him.

The words were a dark promise. They held a world of meaning. My skin flushed, as my body trembled. He owned my reactions and he knew it.

He released my neck, as he stepped back. His gaze were fixed on me while I sat there shaking.

“Get out,” he said. “Find your way back, or do not. It is no concern of mine.”

I slid off the desk, as I clutched the towel. I walked to the door opening it as I walked out without looking back.

I walked into the dark hall, I was lost but I did not care. The feel of his lips on my neck was a brand. The sting of his bite was a claim. His words were a chain.

“Make sure you give me a goodnight, kiss, when I say so,” I recalled what he said, as a chill ran down my spine.

I found my room, the door was still unlocked. I went inside and locked it as I leaned against the wood.

I was a maid, I was his. I had to say goodnight on his command.

The rules had begun.