005

Noelle

I should’ve ripped the papers apart, should’ve clawed that smug smile off his face. I should’ve run, screamed that he was trying to kidnap me, anything. Instead, I stood there trembling with a pen still warm in my hand, and he just watched me like I’d given him everything he wanted.

“I want this annulled,” I snapped, though my voice cracked. “Right now.”

“Not possible.” Damian leaned back against the counter like a king at ease. “You signed. It’s airtight, and there's no going back. You're my wife, final.”

I wanted to argue, but he didn’t give me the chance. He pushed away from the counter and gestured to the table where sunlight spilled across a plate of food I hadn’t even noticed he’d set out.

“Sit.” His voice was cold and final.

“No.” His brow arched at my response. He didn’t move closer, didn’t raise his voice. Just one word had me reeling like a starved puppy.

“Wife.” The sound of it scraped down my spine. My mouth opened to argue, but whatever I had in my throat got cut short as he spoke up again.

“Don't make me make you.” Only a fool would be able to miss the double meaning behind his words, and before I knew it, my feet betrayed me, carrying me forward until I sank into the chair across from him, still barefoot, and drowning in his shirt.

Damian smirked, reaching across the space between us. He flicked the collar of the shirt back into place, fingers grazing my throat, the brush so light it could’ve been an accident, but my pulse spiked anyway.

“Better.”

Breakfast, or whatever this could be called, went on without a hitch, except for the heavy silence that hung in the air. The plate of bacon, sausage and eggs were too good and it took everything in me not to ask if he'd made it himself.

I stabbed my meal with my fork, careful not to make it obvious that I was starving. Apparently, a sex marathon left you fucking hungry in the morning. With each mouthful I swallowed, I didn't miss Damian's piercing gaze on my skin.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” He tilted his head, a wolfish grin on his lips. “Like you’re mine?”

The words landed like a brand, hot and humiliating. I stabbed at the toast like it had personally offended me, refusing to look at him, but I felt him. His gaze, heavy and unrelenting, stroking over my skin until I wanted to crawl out of it.

“Stop staring at me.” I hissed again.

“Not staring. Studying.” His tone was maddeningly calm. “My wife, after all. I like knowing what’s mine.”

I said nothing after that, and when he finally left me alone at the table, I snatched up the scattered contract pages, desperate to find a loophole, a way out. Instead, my eyes landed on the list I’d glimpsed earlier, the rules.

Rules.

My cheeks burned as I read them:

Obey when commanded.

No lies, no secrets.

Kneel when told.

Share my bed, my table, my time.

Learn to take what I give and beg for more.

No leaving without permission.

And at the bottom, underlined twice, were the words;

Code Red

“What the hell is this supposed to mean?” I muttered under my breath.

I didn’t hear him until his shadow cut across the page. He leaned down, bracing a hand on the back of my chair, his presence flooding my space until the air itself thinned.

“Be a good girl,” he murmured, lips brushing my ear. “And you’ll find out.”

Shivers cascaded down my spine at his words. My knuckles whitened as I clutched the papers, because the last thing I wanted was for him to know how fast my pulse was racing. But Damian Blackwood already knew. He could feel it in the air, the same way I could.

My mind reeled with a million and one things all at once. It was weird to think about, but a small part of me was actually curious as to what Code Red meant, but the other part and the more logical part of me only wanted a way out of this mess.

“No.” Without thinking, I shoved the papers back onto the console and forced myself to stand, every muscle stiff with defiance. “I don’t care what that contract says. I’m leaving.”

I stormed toward the front door, heart pounding like a war drum. I didn't care that I hadn't changed out of his shirt and I still probably smelled like sex, all that mattered to me was getting out of this prison I'd gotten myself into. With each step I took, I could see the gleam of sunlight through the ceiling high windows, and I'd never craved freedom the way I did right now.

But before I could touch the handle, he was already there. He'd crossed the space between us in two strides, and was now leaning lazily against the frame as though he’d been waiting all along. One hand braced above his head, body blocking the way.

“Wait.” His eyes locked on mine, cool and merciless. “You’re forgetting something.”

“What?” I froze. “What is it?”

“That contract you signed makes you my wife, which means you live with me.” His voice didn’t rise, didn’t falter, it simply was. “You don’t get to walk out when you feel like it, Noelle. Not without consequences.”

The words wrapped around me like a chain, and though I wanted to fight, scream, scratch, my body betrayed me again. A question burned on the tip of my tongue and even though I knew I would be signing my own death wish by asking, I did so anyway.

“What consequences?” His eyes darkened in an instant, and my heart thudded, heat licking under my skin in ways I couldn’t explain.

“Beg, and be a good girl.” His voice dropped low, as he stepped towards me. “And maybe, just maybe, I'll show you.”

I hated how my nipples strained against the thin fabric of his shirt, I hated how my thighs clenched again in want and memories from last night rushed at me. I hated him, but the worst part?

I wasn’t sure I hated the effects he fucking had on me.