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Chapter Twenty-One: The Billionaire’s Prison (Pt 2)
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2026-02-01 20:37:25Dominic doesn't wait for her to recover from the sting of his palm. Before her cries can even fade into the high ceilings, he hooks his arms under her dampness and hauls her up. He spins her around, her feet dangling for a terrifying second before he slams her down onto the edge of the kitchen island.
The cold marble bites into the backs of her thighs, but the heat of Dominic’s finger moving between her legs is a furnace.
"Look at me," he commands, his voice a low, jagged rasp.
Rhea’s eyeglasses are askew, her eyes blurred with tears and raw shock.
She tries to push him away, her hands landing on his chest, but it’s like trying to move a mountain. He’s already unbuckled his belt, the metallic click sounding like a death knell in the silence of the apartment.
"You wanted to make a decision for yourself?" he growls, his hands moving to her breasts, crushing them through the fabric of her blouse with a punishing grip. "You wanted to end things?"
"Sir, please…it’s too much," she gasps, her head falling back as he rips off her blouse in pieces and sucks her breast furiously right through the blouse.
He doesn't answer with words. He claims her then - not with the calculated coldness of the car ride, but with a sudden, furious thrust that steals the very air from her lungs.
It is a violent, powerful union, a physical invasion that leaves no room for Julian, no room for her dad, no room for Rhea herself.
Rhea screams, the sound echoing off the cold glass walls. It’s a jagged mixture of pain, release, and the absolute terror of being broken.
He moves with a relentless, punishing pace. Every thrust sends her sliding back across the marble, the kitchenware on the island rattling and clattering in a frantic rhythm. He isn't making love; he is marking territory. He is erasing the memory of Julian’s gentle kiss with the sheer force of his own darkness.
"Say it," he pants, his eyes locked onto hers, dark and bottomless. "Say who owns this body."
"You," she sobs, her fingers clawing at the stone until her nails ache. "You do... please, Mr Ashcroft!"
He doesn't slow down. He moves to her breasts again, his mouth claiming her nipples through the torn fabric of her blouse, sucking so hard she knows there will be dark, bruised marks by morning. He is feral, driven by a jealous madness that only her total submission can soothe.
The penthouse is cold, but Rhea is burning. Every thrust feels like he is driving the "30-day" promise she made to Julian deeper into the dirt. She gasps for air, her back hitting the marble again and again, her hands pinned to the stone by his much larger ones.
In the final, blinding moment of his release, Dominic let out a low, guttural sound; a victor’s cry. He collapses against her, his weight pinning her to the counter, his heart thundering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Rhea lies there, a wreckage of sensation. Her body is a map of reddened skin, teeth marks, and the cold reality that she has been completely conquered. The silence of the apartment returns, heavier than before.
He holds her there for a long time, his face buried in the crook of her neck, his breath finally evening out. When he speaks, his voice is a ragged shadow of its usual strength, whispered directly into her skin.
"From tonight on, you breathe because I allow it. You exist because I let you stay in my world. If you ever suggest quitting... if you ever walk away... I won't just break you, Fragile. I’ll make sure there’s nothing left to put back together."
Rhea goes still. Her heart stops.
Dominic pulls back, his eyes tracking the tears on her cheeks with a cold, detached satisfaction. He straightens his suit, looking perfectly composed while she lies shattered on the marble.
"Go to sleep, your room is the first one at the right down the hallway," he says, his voice like ice. "I have to leave. The doors are set to my biometrics - don't waste your energy trying the handles."
He leans down, one last terrifying whisper against her ear. "Take the day off. I'll be back in the evening to see if you've learned how to be a good girl. Don't disappoint me again, Fragile."
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Dominic pushes the heavy doors open, and the lights comes to life, revealing a space that is less of a bedroom and more of a private sanctuary of excess.Rhea stumbles slightly as he leads her inside. The room is vast, dominated by a king-sized bed draped in charcoal silk, but it is the perimeter that stops her heart. To the left, a walk-in closet the size of her entire old apartment stands open.Rows of designer dresses - Hermès, Chanel, Dior - hang like silent sentinels, arranged by color from softest cream to the deepest black. Below them, hundreds of pairs of shoes glitter under individual spotlights. On the marble center island, gold-lined drawers are partially open, revealing watches that cost more than her father’s surgery and necklaces dripping with diamonds that catch the light, throwing fractured rainbows across the ceiling.Dominic steps toward a sleek glass console and picks up a heavy, leather-bound key fob. He drops it into her palm, the weight of it forcing her hand do
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The heavy, resonant thud of the private elevator is the only warning Rhea receives.She is sitting on the edge of the charcoal-colored sofa, her fingers unconsciously covering the gold cuff as if she can hide the shame of it. When Dominic strides into the room, he is a vision of absolute, terrifying perfection. His charcoal suit is without a single crease. He carries the atmospheric weight of a man who has spent the day dismantling empires, and now he has come home to inspect his most exquisite acquisition.Sarah stands at attention immediately, her posture rigid. "Mr. Ashcroft."Dominic’s eyes don't flicker toward the guard. They are locked on Rhea, dark and unreadable, twin pits of obsidian that swallow the light in the room. He stops in the center of the sprawling penthouse, the silence stretching until the tension becomes a physical ache, a pressure in Rhea’s lungs that makes breathing feel like a sin."Sarah," Dominic says, his voice a low, smooth drawl that vibrates against the
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Rhea wakes to a silence so heavy it feels physical.The evening sun slices through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the bedroom, warm but unforgiving. Her body aches; a deep, throbbing reminder of the kitchen counter and the marks Dominic left on her skin. She is tucked under Egyptian cotton sheets that feel like a shroud. He is gone, but his scent - charcoal, expensive bourbon, and power - lingers on the pillow next to her.She sits up slowly, her heart skipping a beat as she remembers her burner phone. She practically falls out of bed, crawling toward the nightstand where she’d hidden it in a small gap behind the drawer. Her fingers graze the cold plastic.Thank God. He doesn't know. He didn’t check her bag earlier.She hides the phone back in its crevice and stands, wrapping herself in a robe she found in the closet. She needs water. She needs to feel like a human being again.As she enters the vast, open-plan living area, she stops dead.The kitchen island where he had broken her
Owned by the Cold CEO: His Fragile Acquisition Chapter Twenty-One: The Billionaire’s Prison (Pt 2)
Dominic doesn't wait for her to recover from the sting of his palm. Before her cries can even fade into the high ceilings, he hooks his arms under her dampness and hauls her up. He spins her around, her feet dangling for a terrifying second before he slams her down onto the edge of the kitchen island.The cold marble bites into the backs of her thighs, but the heat of Dominic’s finger moving between her legs is a furnace."Look at me," he commands, his voice a low, jagged rasp.Rhea’s eyeglasses are askew, her eyes blurred with tears and raw shock. She tries to push him away, her hands landing on his chest, but it’s like trying to move a mountain. He’s already unbuckled his belt, the metallic click sounding like a death knell in the silence of the apartment."You wanted to make a decision for yourself?" he growls, his hands moving to her breasts, crushing them through the fabric of her blouse with a punishing grip. "You wanted to end things?""Sir, please…it’s too much," she gasps, h
Owned by the Cold CEO: His Fragile Acquisition Chapter Twenty: The Billionaire’s Prison (Pt 1)
“Remove all your underwear.”Dominic’s voice is a flat, clinical vibration in the cramped luxury of the car back seat. He doesn't look up from his phone. The blue light of the screen carves out the sharp, merciless angles of his face, making him look less like a man and more like a statue.Rhea freezes, her heart thudding against her ribs. “Here?” she whispers, her voice cracking.“Unless you’d prefer to do it on the sidewalk when we arrive,” he replies. He still doesn't glance at her. His thumb swipes across the screen; cold, methodical, and utterly detached.Rhea’s hands shake as she reaches under her skirt. The car is moving, the world outside the tinted windows blurring, but inside, the air is thick with the scent of his expensive cologne and her own rising panic. She peels the lace down her legs, feeling the sudden, biting chill of the leather against her bare skin.She fumbles with her blouse next, slipping her arms out just enough to unhook her bra. She slides it off and qui
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Rhea sits on the edge of her bed, the mattress dipping under her weight. The house feels smaller tonight with her father at the hospital, while she is crowded by the oppressive memory of Dominic’s touch. As he demanded, she had surrendered her primary phone to him like a disarmed soldier. In return, he’d handed her a brand-new device - sleek, expensive, and almost certainly a digital cage. She knows better than to touch it. Every text, every GPS ping, every breath she takes near that phone likely feeds directly back to his desk.She reaches under her pillow and pulls out her real lifeline: a burner phone she bought in cash.Her fingers tremble as she dials Julian’s number. He picks up on the first ring, his voice a sudden, warm burst of reality in her cold room.“Hey, babe. How are you doing?”Julian’s voice is steady, a calm harbor. Rhea closes her eyes, hunching her shoulders as if Dominic’s shadow is looming over her shoulder, listening through the walls.“I’m good,” she whisper
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