chapter 5

Chapter 5

The foyer was too big. That was the first thing I noticed. Marble floors that reflected the chandelier above, a staircase that curved up to a second floor I couldn't see the end of, walls hung with paintings that probably cost more than my life. Everything was polished. Everything was quiet. The air smelled like cedar, like him.

Dmitri stood beside me, his hands behind his back, waiting for me to move.

"This way," he said.

I followed him. My suitcase felt heavier than it should. We went up the stairs each step wide, shallow, made for people who never had to rush and down a hallway with doors on either side, all closed. He stopped at one near the end and pushed it open.

The room was beautiful. A bed big enough for three people, white sheets, dark wood headboard. Windows that faced the back of the property, looking out over gardens I could barely see in the fading light. A closet already open, empty except for a robe hanging inside. Fresh flowers on the nightstand. Someone had put a book there too, some literary fiction I'd never heard of.

They'd prepared for me. They knew I was coming.

I set my suitcase on the bed and opened it. I didn't have much. Jeans, sweaters, a few nice tops I never wore. My laptop. My sketchbook. The whole thing looked sad sitting on those expensive sheets.

I didn't plan to stay long. I'd figure something out. I'd find a way to pay off the debt, or I'd find a way to run, or I'd find a way to make him so tired of me that he let me go. There was always a way. There had to be.

I pulled out a sweater and turned to hang it in the closet.

"You're here."

The voice came from behind me. Low. Cold. I spun around, my heart slamming against my ribs. Adrian was standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching me with those dark eyes that didn't blink.

I hadn't heard him come in. I hadn't heard anything.

"You move quiet," I said. My voice came out steadier than I felt.

He didn't respond to that. His gaze moved from my face to the open suitcase, to the clothes spilling out of it.

"Is that all you have?"

"It's what I need."

He looked at Dmitri, who had appeared somewhere behind him. "Have new clothes brought by morning. Everything she'll need."

Dmitri nodded once. "Yes, sir."

I stared at Adrian. New clothes. For me. The man who had been following me for two weeks, who had trapped me in a contract, who had called my body "nice" like he was appraising furniture, was buying me clothes.

I opened my mouth to say something. I didn't know what. Thank you? I don't need your charity? What is this?

I didn't get the chance.

"We start tonight." His voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. "Second room to the left. End of this hallway. One hour after dinner. I'll meet you there."

He turned and walked away. His footsteps didn't echo. He was gone before I could process what he'd said.

We start tonight.

I knew what that meant. I'd gone over the contract before I signed it. The section about "physical obligations." The part where I agreed to make myself available to him whenever and however he wanted. I'd read it three times, hoping the words would rearrange themselves into something else.

They hadn't.

Dmitri was still in the doorway. He looked at me with something that might have been sympathy, or might have been nothing.

"Dinner is at seven," he said. Then he left too.

I sat on the edge of the bed. My hands were cold. My chest felt tight. I was a virgin. Twenty-three years old and I'd never been with anyone. Marcus and I had done other things, but never that. I'd been waiting. For what, I didn't know. The right person. The right moment. Something that felt like more than just going through the motions.

Now I was going to lose it to a man who called me Doll.

I looked at the time. It was six fifteen. I had forty-five minutes until dinner. Then an hour after that, I was supposed to walk down this hallway to a room I hadn't seen yet and let him do whatever he wanted.

I thought about running. I thought about slipping out the back door, finding a bus station, disappearing. But I had no money. No car. No plan. And even if I made it out, there was the contract. The forty-two thousand dollars. The court case he'd bury me in. The record that would follow me for the rest of my life.

It was this or thousands of dollars I'd never have and a life I couldn't rebuild.

I got up and walked to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face. Looked at myself in the mirror. Dark skin, ebony hair pulled back, eyes that looked too wide.

"Don't expect me to make this easy for you," I said to my reflection. It didn't answer.

---

Dinner was at seven. I went downstairs and found the dining room through sheer luck I opened three wrong doors first. It was massive. A table that could seat twenty, a chandelier hanging low, candles lit even though the room was already bright. Adrian was already there, at the head of the table, a glass of wine in front of him.

He didn't look up when I walked in.

I sat across from him. The chair was heavy, carved from dark wood, the kind of thing that belonged in a museum. A plate was already in front of me. Small portions. Everything arranged like a painting.

I picked up my fork and ate. The food was good better than good but I couldn't taste it. I ate slowly, deliberately, stretching out each bite. I wanted to eat forever. I wanted to never leave this chair.

Adrian ate in silence. He didn't look at me. He didn't speak. He just cut his food, lifted it to his mouth, chewed. Like I wasn't there.

I finished before I was ready. My plate was empty. The candles were still burning. I looked at the clock on the wall. Seven forty. Twenty minutes until I had to go to the room.

I sat there for another ten minutes. Then another five. Then I couldn't wait anymore.

I stood up. Adrian didn't move.

I walked out of the dining room. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else. I went up the stairs. Down the hallway. Past my room. Past another door. Second room to the left.

The door was closed. I stood in front of it for a long time. My hand was on the handle. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat.

I opened the door.

The room was dark. I stepped inside and my foot hit something soft. A rug. I looked around, trying to see, and then the lights came on.

I stopped breathing.

The walls were red. Deep red, like wine, like blood. In the center of the room was a bed not like the one in my room. This one had posts at each corner, dark wood, and at the top, attached to the headboard, were restraints. Leather cuffs hanging from chains.

Against one wall was a cabinet. Glass doors. I could see what was inside. Whips. Paddles. Ropes coiled in neat circles. Things I didn't have names for. Things that made my stomach clench and my face go hot.

I walked toward it before I could stop myself. My hand reached out. Touched the glass. Then I opened the cabinet and pulled out a whip. Short handle, leather tails. I ran my fingers over it. The leather was soft. Worn.

I pictured it against my skin. My breath caught.

I'd never thought about this. Not once. I was the girl who read romance novels with closed doors, who looked away during the sex scenes in movies. But standing here, holding this thing I wasn't supposed to touch, I felt something I didn't have a name for.

"You're early."

I spun around. Adrian was standing in the doorway, just inside the room, the door closed behind him. I hadn't heard him come in. I hadn't heard anything.

My hand tightened on the whip. I didn't put it back.

He looked at me. Then at the whip in my hand. Then at my clothes the jeans, the sweater, the nothing I'd worn because I didn't have anything else.

"Your outfit is boring," he said.

I wanted to say something sharp. Something that would cut. Instead, I heard myself say, "Don't expect me to make this easy for you."

His mouth curved. Not quite a smile. Something slower. Something that made my skin prickle.

"Don't worry." He took a step into the room. Then another. He was close enough that I could smell cedar, feel the heat coming off his body. "Dmitri is getting you a harness. Along with your other clothes. It will be here tomorrow."

A harness. I pictured it. Leather straps across my chest, around my ribs, cinched tight. The image came into my head without permission. I saw myself in it. Standing in this room. Under those lights.

My stomach flipped. Not fear. Something else. Something I didn't want to name.

I dropped the whip back into the cabinet. My hand was shaking.

Adrian watched me. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He just stood there, waiting, like he had all the time in the world.

I looked at the bed. At the restraints. At the cabinet full of things I'd never seen before.

I was a virgin. Twenty-three years old. The only sex I'd ever had was a blurry memory from high school graduation, the after-party, too much cheap vodka, a boy whose name I couldn't remember. I'd woken up the next morning with a headache and torn clothes and a vague sense that something had happened. I'd never been sure. I'd never wanted to be.

But standing here, in this red room, with a man who called me Doll, I felt something I hadn't felt in years. A pull. A heat. A part of myself I'd locked away a long time ago.

I hated that he could see it.

He took another step closer. His hand came up, fingers brushing my jaw, tilting my face toward his. His touch was cool. Deliberate.

"We start now," he said. "Unless you want to run."

I didn't move. I couldn't.

He let his hand drop. He walked to the bed, sat on the edge, and waited.

I stood there. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my ears. I thought about the contract. About the debt. About the life I'd left behind. About Mia and Marcus and the apartment that smelled like cabbage.

I thought about the way my body had responded when I touched the whip. The way it was responding now.

I took a step toward him.