CHAPTER 4

(Angela's POV)

The driver led me into the living room, where I halted and asked him, "Hello, excuse me. Who owns this house?"

"Master Richard," he replied tensely.

As I glanced around the living room where Richard strode toward the stairs, I caught him glaring at the driver with bloodshot eyes.

"Get out, Derek!" Richard sneered, and the driver bolted from the room.

I gritted my teeth, wondering how I had ended up with my elder sister's boyfriend.

"Master Richard, please, let me go home," I pleaded, trying to negotiate with him.

I knew negotiating with this man proved futile, and I blamed myself for accompanying Isabella to his birthday party.

"Don't call me that," Richard grunted, glaring at me as well.

"Huh, what do I call you then? My sister's boyfriend?" I asked, and his eyes narrowed.

Richard descended the stairs and strode toward me.

The next moment, he loomed in front of me, his firm hands clasping my neck.

"You are so stubborn, unlike the calm woman I saw at my birthday party. What happened to you? Do you want to be punished?" he demanded, his voice hot and rough as he caressed my face.

Richard towered over me, and I gulped hard.

His masculine scent invaded my nostrils and scrambled my brain, preventing a direct answer.

"No. I don't want anything to do with you. Please, let me go home," I begged him.

"Hmm," he breathed hotly.

"What will you do to make me let go of you? Do you think it's easy to claim you belong to me? Take a look at the receipt," Richard said, pulling out a receipt and thrusting it toward me.

"Product name: Angela Moraga. Sold at: 50 million dollars" stood boldly on the receipt, signed by the Dark Realm Auction House and bearing Richard's name.

"But I never agreed to be sold," I told him, tears welling in my blue eyes.

"Please, I dream of becoming a doctor. Please, I don't want to become your sex slave. Please…" I cried, collapsing at his feet as I clutched his legs to beg him.

"Please, let me go. I will do anything you want. Please, just let me go home. I don't want any of this," I begged, but Richard squatted and seized my hands.

He gripped my hands and hauled me back to my feet.

"You're not so dumb, are you? You're not going home. You belong to me, and I want you," he said, his eyes gleaming with desire and interest.

"No way! But I don't want you. You cannot rápe me. You'll go to jail if you force yourself on me!" I warned, challenging him with a deadly stare, and he laughed, looking breathtakingly handsome.

"Who said I'll force myself on you? I don't force myself on women. They offer themselves to me, and I revel in teasing them. You never asked your elder sister about me. She'll tell you I've never touched her pûssy or even known the color of her lingerie," Richard said, stepping away from me and striding to his bar.

His phone rang, and he fished it out, glancing at the caller.

"Hello, Derek, what's up?" he asked, his cold voice making my heart skip a beat.

If he didn't want sex, then why had he purchased me?

"Let her in," Richard ordered coldly, and I whipped around as the living room door burst open.

A young woman in a black coat, black leather pants, and boots strode into the room.

She carried a black satchel slung over her shoulders.

"Good evening, Master Richard," she greeted, bowing her head.

"Welcome, Agnes. Wait in the dressing room. I'll send her to you now," Richard dismissed her as Derek entered next.

"Where's the dressing room?" the young woman asked, and Derek chimed in immediately.

"Follow me," Derek said, leading the young woman away, and I noticed her eyes sparkling with interest as she glanced at him.

"Alright," she replied, smiling as she trailed Derek.

"Please, Master, let me go," I said, recalling Richard's warning not to use his name. He hadn't told me what to call him either.

Richard stayed silent as he snatched a bottle of wine from his bar.

"Care for a drink? It's non-alcoholic," he asked with a smile, but I shook my head and replied, "No. I want to go home."

Richard smiled, took a sip, and fixed his gaze on me.

"You're not going home. I'll inform your parents about it, and as for your schooling, you'll resume at Top Hills University since you want to further your education. But I warn you, princess: you're not allowed a boyfriend or to get close to any man. If you dare break the rule, you'll face severe punishment," Richard said as he sipped from his glass.

"Really? Thank you," I replied, relief flooding me as I smiled.

"That's not all. Don't get too excited. The tattoo artist is here. Once she brands you with my name—at the top of your chest, close to your heart, so you'll always remember who you belong to—you'll sign the contract to abide by my rules. Got it?" Richard said, and I frowned because I didn't want his brand.

Richard drained his drink and marched toward me, where I stood hesitating to agree.

He grasped my hair and tilted my face up to meet his eyes.

"Did you hear everything I said?" he demanded, glaring at me angrily.

I pressed my pink lips together, refusing to reply.

Richard's gaze drifted from my eyes to my lips.

He caressed them, brushing my lips with his gloved hands encased in black leather.

I smacked his hands away from my lips, but he held me firmly and lifted me off the ground, carrying me in his strong arms.

"Put me down!" I screamed, but my cries fell on deaf ears as Richard marched away.

He reached a room door, and a maid I hadn't seen before unlocked it for him.

The young woman from earlier sat in a chair, and she rose to face us, as a full-length mirror dominated the room.

"Agnes, vrand her with my full name on her chest. I want any man who looks at her to know she belongs to me," Richard commanded, depositing me in the chair.

"No! I don't want your brand. Please…" I begged, but Richard drew his gun and pressed it to my head.

"Sit properly and let her do the job. Then we'll move to the next step," he ordered coldly, and I realized he was insane.

I hadn't expected Richard to carry a gun.

With the cold metal pressed to my temple, I didn't dare resist, and I gulped hard.

"Stay still, pretty. I'll tattoo Master Richard's name properly on your chest," the young woman, a tattoo artist, said softly, but I glared at her.

I dared not speak, with Richard standing there watching us.

He holstered his gun once he saw me seated calmly and said, "Agnes, once you're done, let me know. Ensure you tattoo the name boldly—in italic font. Make it lovely and dark, like me." He smiled, then left the room, and I frowned.

"Alright, Master Richard," Agnes replied, but Richard had already exited.