Chapter 2: Put It On

Opaline’s POV

Private Elevator 7 didn't have buttons.

Just a black panel, a camera lens, and my reflection staring back at me.

7:59 AM.

Sixty seconds early.

Normally, being early made me feel prepared.

Today, it made me feel stupid.

Because I wasn't in control anymore.

Not since I signed that contract.

The doors opened at exactly 8:00.

There was no receptionist.

No assistant.

No welcome.

Only a silver tray sitting on a pedestal.

A black velvet box rested on it.

And on top was a folded piece of paper.

I recognized the handwriting immediately.

Put it on.

My stomach tightened.

I looked at the camera.

The red light blinked.

He was watching.

Of course he was.

I picked up the box.

Inside was a black leather collar.

Simple.

Elegant.

And completely out of place in a corporate building.

My fingers brushed the smooth leather.

A small silver plate was fixed to the front.

Blank.

I stared at it.

“What did I sign?”

The camera blinked.

I almost laughed.

“Right. No answers.”

My hand tightened around the collar.

I could leave.

I could return the five thousand dollars.

I could go back to worrying about rent and my mother's medication.

But then I remembered her voicemail from the night before.

The pharmacy said they won't refill the prescription without payment, honey.

My chest tightened.

I closed my eyes.

Then I fastened the collar around my neck.

Click.

The sound was small.

But it felt final.

The elevator doors closed.

It began moving upward.

I watched my reflection in the mirrored wall.

The woman staring back at me looked almost like a stranger.

Same face.

Same chipped black nail polish.

Same desperate eyes.

But now there was a black collar around her throat.

Floor 100.

The doors opened.

A private foyer waited beyond them.

Marble.

Glass.

Silence.

At the end stood a black door with no handle.

It opened before I reached it.

Ignis stood on the other side.

His tie was loose.

His sleeves were rolled to his forearms.

His expression was unreadable.

But his eyes went immediately to the collar.

He didn't smile.

He didn't need to.

“Good,” he said.

One word.

My pulse betrayed me.

“Close the door.”

I did.

The lock clicked.

He approached slowly.

His fingers brushed my hair away from the collar.

“Blank.”

His thumb moved over the silver plate.

“For now.”

I swallowed.

“What does that mean?”

His gaze lifted to mine.

“It means you haven't earned a designation yet.”

“A designation?”

“You'll understand.”

That answer irritated me.

“That's becoming your favorite phrase.”

For the first time, something almost amused appeared in his eyes.

“You talk more than your résumé suggested.”

“I didn't realize silence was part of the job.”

“It is now.”

He turned and walked toward his desk.

I followed.

The office was enormous.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city.

A black desk dominated the center.

There were no family photographs.

No decorations.

Nothing personal.

Just order.

Control.

Everything had its place.

Including me, apparently.

Ignis stopped beside his desk.

“Sit.”

He gestured toward the carpet.

I stared at him.

“Seriously?”

His expression didn't change.

“You signed the contract.”

My jaw tightened.

Then I lowered myself to the carpet.

He watched me for a moment.

“Rule one.”

I waited.

“You speak when spoken to.”

I nodded.

“You move when instructed.”

Another nod.

“And if you agree to a command, you follow it willingly. If you don't, you say no.”

That caught me off guard.

I looked up.

He continued calmly.

“Consent matters. I don't want obedience from someone who is incapable of refusing.”

Something about that distinction surprised me.

He crouched slightly so we were at eye level.

“If you ever want this arrangement to stop, you say so.”

I studied his face.

“And you'll let me go?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation.

I wasn't sure whether I believed him.

But I nodded.

“Good.”

He stood.

“Now we establish your limits.”

For the next several minutes, he asked questions.

What I was comfortable with.

What I wasn't.

What words meant stop.

What I would never agree to.

It wasn't what I'd expected.

I'd imagined cruelty.

Instead, there was precision.

Rules.

Boundaries.

Control carefully measured instead of blindly taken.

When we finished, he returned to his desk.

“Stand.”

I stood.

“Remove your blazer.”

I did.

“Good.”

He studied me.

Not hungrily.

Assessing.

“Your clothes are unsuitable for this environment.”

I glanced down at my thrift-store outfit.

“I couldn't exactly afford designer clothes.”

“I know.”

I frowned.

“You know?”

His eyes met mine.

“I know more about you than you think.”

A chill moved through me.

“What does that mean?”

He ignored the question.

“Tomorrow, you'll receive a new wardrobe.”

“I can't afford that.”

“You're not paying.”

“Why?”

Silence.

Then:

“Because I selected you.”

My stomach tightened.

“Why me?”

He didn't answer.

Instead, he opened a drawer and removed another folder.

This one was thinner.

He placed it on the desk.

I recognized my name printed across the front.

OPALINE FREY — CONFIDENTIAL

My breath caught.

“You already had a file on me.”

Ignis said nothing.

I stepped closer.

“Before yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

His expression hardened.

“That's enough for today.”

I stared at him.

“No. You can't just—”

His eyes sharpened.

I stopped.

Rule one.

He closed the folder.

“You'll learn the answers when you're ready for them.”

“That isn't an answer.”

“No.”

He slid the folder back into the drawer.

“It's a warning.”

My stomach twisted.

A billionaire had already researched me before I ever walked into his office.

And somehow, that frightened me more than the collar.

He walked back toward me.

“Your first lesson is control.”

His voice softened.

“Not surrender.”

I looked at him.

“There's a difference?”

“A significant one.”

He gestured toward the floor.

“Kneel.”

I hesitated.

Then I did.

He corrected my posture, showing me where to place my hands and how to keep my back straight.

It was less about humiliation than discipline.

Every movement had a purpose.

Every command had a reason.

And strangely, that made the experience more unsettling.

Because I was beginning to understand him.

Ignis didn't do anything without a reason.

Not the contract.

Not the collar.

Not me.

When the lesson ended, he returned to his desk.

“You'll work in the outer office today.”

I blinked.

“Doing what?”

“Filing.”

“That's it?”

“For today.”

I stood.

My legs felt unsteady, but I refused to show it.

He looked toward the collar.

“Leave it here.”

I removed it.

He took it from my hands.

“Tomorrow, you'll wear it again.”

I hesitated.

“Why?”

His eyes held mine.

“Because tomorrow, Opaline, you start learning what you actually signed.”

He opened the office door.

I stepped into the hallway.

Just before the door closed, I looked back.

“Ignis?”

“Yes?”

“Why was there a file about me before I applied?”

For the first time, his expression changed.

Barely.

But I saw it.

Something guarded.

Something dangerous.

“Go to work.”

The door closed.

I stood alone in the hallway.

My fingers went instinctively to my neck.

The collar was gone.

But the question remained.

Why had Ignis Heliox been watching me before he ever met me?

And what exactly had he been waiting for?