Take Off Your Clothes.

Isabella Monroe: 

I touched the spot of his kiss with my fingers. Butterflies went wild in my stomach. My breath turned heavy.

I’m a psychology student, yet I can’t even understand this man. Why does he treat me like this?

What’s happening between us is new. Before, it was just greetings… and his scolding when I was younger.

I heard Sophia calling my name from behind the cold metal bars. Her voice shook.

I stood up fast and rushed to her. I noticed her hands were free.

“Good for you, Sophia.”

She cupped my cheeks in her hands.

“My dad will handle everything. You won’t stay in this horrible place for long.”

I nodded, then asked, curiosity eating me alive.

“Who is that woman… Sara?”

She sighed, smiling lazily.

“She’s my dad’s girlfriend. Spanish.”

Damn. I expected that answer. Of course she is.

“Even though my dad is still a mystery sometimes, I don’t know if he’s just playing with her again or if he’s serious this time. But Sara is nice. I’d be happy if they get married in nine months like she told me.”

For the first time in my life, I wished she would just shut up. Her words stabbed something inside me.

“You didn’t tell me… did your dad yell at you?”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“You won’t believe it. He slapped me. Right in front of her… and the officer.”

I gasped.

“You’re serious?”

She touched her cheek and smiled faintly.

“It wasn’t hard. I think he held back so I wouldn’t pass out.”

Then she laughed. Loud.

“My first slap ever. It was actually funny. I laughed instead of crying.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed too. The situation was insane.

Then a deep voice echoed down the hallway. Cold. Sharp.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay with Sara?”

Sophia turned pale.

“Dad!”

He walked toward us, bags in his hands. Exactly like he said.

“What’s with all the bags?”

He shot her a deadly look.

“To the lab. Move.”

She frowned, confused for a second, then obeyed and walked away.

The moment she was out of his sight, he stepped into the cell.

His tone was still harsh. Still cold.

He told me to sit. Then he sat beside me.

“Was I late?”

I looked at him. Soft. Almost innocent.

“No.”

He placed the bags on the floor. His eyes locked with mine.

“Take off your clothes.”

My eyes snapped wide open. My brain froze.

“What do you mean… take off my clothes?”

He exhaled, then turned his back to me.

“You’ll find clothes in the white bag. I don’t know if your taste is like my daughter’s, but I picked what I think suits you.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, then added, calm—too calm.

“I turned away so you can take off your dress, little one.”

“Okay… don’t turn around, please.”

He sighed.

“I won’t.”

I glanced around. The hallway was empty.

I pulled the straps of my dress down. It slipped to my waist. My breasts pushed against the black bra, tight and full.

I swallowed, stupidly smiling.

Reaching back, I tried to undo the clasp. My hair got in the way. I struggled. Soft sounds slipped from my lips.

He turned.

I froze.

His dark eyes locked onto my chest. Hungry. Focused.

He stepped closer. Panic hit me.

Then he sat beside me.

“I’ll help you.”

My body went numb.

His breath hit my bare back. Hot. Heavy. It burned me.

He gathered my hair in his hand, brushing my spine. I shut my eyes. A strong, violent shiver ran through me.

“You okay, Isabella?”

His voice was rough.

“Yes.”

I held my hair away while his fingers moved to my bra. His touch burned my skin.

“Done?”

I whispered it, praying he’d say yes.

“Not yet.”

He unclasped it easily, then pulled away. My body still pressed against his chest for a second too long.

“Don’t wear this type again. It’s hard to open.”

I bit my trembling lip.

“This is so embarrassing.”

I quickly changed. Jeans. A white wool shirt. Sneakers.

“You guessed my style… Mr. Sebastian. Thank you.”

When I finished, he turned and looked at me slowly. Carefully.

“I thought you liked showing your waist.”

My cheeks burned.

“It was hot that day. I don’t wear short tops in cold weather.”

He nodded, then opened another bag. Fried chicken. Salad. Fruit.

“I’m sure you haven’t eaten in hours.”

He sat beside me and opened the boxes.

I started eating fast, dipping the chicken in hot sauce.

His eyes darkened. Cold. Heavy.

“Don’t mistake my silence for weakness. You’ll be punished too.”

I frowned.

“I hate that. I get why you’re upset… but what gives you the right to punish me?”

His gaze sharpened.

“As your guardian.”

I lowered my head. Weak. The alcohol still clouded my mind.

“Don’t look at me like that… you scare me.”

His voice hit my ear like a command.

“Endure it.”

I looked up at him. His eyes burned.

“Endure my anger, Isabella. What you did is unforgivable.”

Then he left.

Hours later, I was released. Everything was handled.

Thanks to Sebastian Hawthorne.

I walked down the long hallway, almost at the exit.

A hand grabbed my arm. Hard.

“Slow down, little one.”

I stuttered, staring at his hand around my wrist. Like we were something more.

“I’m sorry… I forgot to thank you.”

I hit my forehead.

“Forgot… or are you scared of my punishment?”

“Why would I be scared, Mr. Sebastian?”

He stepped closer.

I stepped back.

“You’re too close. People can see. We’re in a police station… please.”

He stopped just inches away. Almost touching me.

“In front of me. To the car.”

I raised a brow.

“I don’t like orders, professor.”

He tucked my hair behind my ear.

My heart betrayed me. It raced.

“I don’t like repeating myself. And I hate being ignored.”

A deep, dangerous shiver ran through me. Heat pooled low in my body.

I turned and walked to the door. Fast.

He followed.

I knew he was watching me. Every step. Every curve.

I got into his black Lamborghini. I used to dream about this car as a kid.

He started driving.

I took my chance.

“How did you fix it? Did you bribe that bitch?”

His hand landed on my thigh.

My lower body reacted instantly. Hard. Alive.

He smirked and licked his lips.

“Money opens doors… even in the sea, right?”

I pushed his hand away. Even through the jeans, I felt everything.

“Right.”

I pulled at my collar. I was burning. Sweating. My back was soaked.

“Want me to open the window?”

I exhaled, breath shaky.

“I’d appreciate it.”

He rolled it down. Strong, cold wind hit my face.

I felt a little better.

“Where are we going?”

He didn’t look at me. His eyes stayed on the road.

“I’m taking you home.”