Chapter 01 Not a little girl anymore

***Chandler's POV***

"Sir, the flight to New York is cleared for departure."

I looked up. Marcus, my assistant, was leaning against the doorframe of my office.

"Your bags are already at the terminal," he added.

I stood up, smoothing my suit. "And the estate? Is the house ready?"

"Everything is prepared, Mr. Sterling. Per your instructions, Miss Perez’s belongings were moved in this morning. But... the workers said she wasn't pleased."

A muscle twitched in my jaw. Of course she wasn't. She was probably mid-tantrum, calling that useless boyfriend of hers for a rescue that wasn't coming.

"She’ll learn," I murmured.

I headed for the car, the New York air already tasting like a storm. It had only been three days since my world flipped upside down. I reached into my pocket, my fingers brushing the paper that changed everything.

I have heard the will read by James' lawyer. But it was a letter which he specifically had written for me with his own dying hand that changed the game for me.

'Chandler, keep her as she is. Don’t let the world break her. Break her yourself if you must, but keep her safe.'

The sharp edges of the paper dug into my palm. He’d handed me the leash. He’d given me the right to control her, to discipline her, to own her until she was a woman grown.

I hadn't seen her in five years. Not since I left for London when she was fourteen.

On the flight, I scrolled through the reports. Photos of Olivia in dark clubs. Her arms wrapped around some boy's neck. Laughing. Reckless. Pissing her father’s legacy away on a whim.

I owed James my life. If that meant dragging his brat of a daughter into adulthood by her hair, so be it.

***

We landed in New York as a cold rain began spray on the ground. The drive to my estate felt like a funeral procession. The gates of my property creaked open, the iron bars looking more like a cage than a welcome.

"Where is she?" I asked Marcus who only escorted me.

"The housekeeper said she's in her room and refused dinner."

I didn't head to my room to freshen up. I didn't even pour a drink to rest for a bit. I walked straight up the grand staircase, my footsteps heavy on the carpet.

I expected to hear cries behind the door of her room, or perhaps the sound of things being thrown or her having tantrums.

I didn't knock when I pushed the door open and found her room empty, but the balcony door was open, the sound of splattering rain echoing on the tiled floor.

"Olivia?" I called for her.

I moved towards the balcony, finding a figure of a girl standing near the railing, her back on it while she faced my direction.

No.

Not a girl.

Definitely not a girl.

Gone the braces, colorful headbands and braided hair. In their place was a woman with sharp features and eyes that burned with a resentment so hot it was almost physical.

She was wearing a slip dress that was far too thin for the weather, her dark hair a chaotic sultry mess, sticking to her face and her ivory smooth skin.

"Great, you're here, f*cking finally," she snapped, her voice no longer a high-pitched chirp, but a low, sultry rasp.

The wet silk was transparent, tracing the soft, heavy curve of her breasts, the pink outline of her n**ples and the dangerous flare of her hips. She was all curves and invitation, a siren standing in the storm.

The heat that flared in my c*ck was so sudden and wrong.

I stood frozen for a heartbeat, the image of the child I was supposed to guard shattering into a thousand broken pieces. This wasn't a brat. This was a disaster waiting to happen.

Seeing her in person? The pictures I've seen of her didn't do her justice.

'Break her yourself if you must' James had said to me.

A permission to discipline her. But f*ck, the discipline I was thinking of had nothing to do with lectures or life lessons.

"Olivia," I said, my voice sounding harsher than I intended. "Come inside and put on something decent."

I had to get her out of that dress before the filthy thoughts screaming in my head became an action I couldn't take back.