Chapter 5

ELARA POV

A tremor rattles through me as the devil in Armani suit with a face so perfect he can freeze time steps out. Pity, they don’t reflect his otherwise darkened soul and charcoaled heart.

His word isn’t lost on me.

I’m probably going to a sex toy for this man. He’ll squeeze every last drop of what my father owed and toss me away like trash.

My heart drops to my feet, scattering like a broken porcelain vase.

I have never had sex before. I have been waiting for someone special all this while. Yet, this is how I lost my virginity.

Nausea coils in my throat that I would be giving in to a monster with cruel words. A predator in silk and sin.

Diana walks in moments later, a scowl deep into her features. A guilt grips my chest for breaking the plate on her head earlier, but it quickly drowns in the sea of bitterness and despair.

I’m like an unmovable doll, too overwhelmed by the misery surrounding me as Diana comes up behind me, pulling the filthy dress over my head until I’m naked.

Then she pulls me up from the bed before leading me to the bathroom.

She’s thorough in washing me, and I only feel like a lamb for slaughter.

A sweet scent of rose fills the air, but it only clogs my throat rather than relax my mind.

When Diana is done washing me with a sponge that feels like sandpaper on my skin, she nudges me, and I stand from the water before she wraps a towel around me.  

She isn’t looking at me, and I think it’s for the best. What do I say to the woman who’s preparing me for the wolf?

As she combs my tangled hair with jasmine oil, I watch my reflection with empty eyes, barely recognizing the girl. With finality, a red silk lingerie that barely reaches my thighs is draped on me.

I feel exposed. My nipples press against the thin fabric visibly. I can trace the soft curve of my breast. I can see where my waist dips inward, and how my ass generously curves outward back.

“I don’t like this,” I sneer.

“The choice isn’t for your liking,” Diana answers emotionlessly, just like her boss.

She leads me out of the bedroom and down the hallway. Each step steals more of my breath. My heart thunders so loudly I wonder if she hears it.

This is happening. This is really happening.

I’m about to be reduced to a thing. A possession. A plaything for a predator. A heartless one.

She stops at a door just three down from my own, and opens it before pushing me inside without warning.

I stumble, catching myself on the frame. My eyes immediately catch him. He’s standing by a decanter near a fireplace, pouring amber liquid into a crystal glass like he’s hosting a dinner party instead of corralling his captive.

His black sleeves are still rolled, his forearms inked, and his presence as poisonous as ever.

He turns, slowly, eyes dragging over me with the kind of interest that makes my skin heat and crawl.

I step back, terror clawing at my inside as my back presses against the metal door. I don’t want this, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction that he scares me, and that this saddens me.

“I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost,” he says, voice smooth as the liquor he sips.

I say nothing. My nails scrape the metal door behind me.

“Now,” he drawls, “you look half-decent.”

Fucking bastard smirks. He actually smirks.

I still don’t say anything, not looking elsewhere either because I fear he’ll pounce on me any moment from now. At least I don’t want to be caught of guard again.

“You’re trembling.” He takes a slow step forward. “Don’t worry. It’ll get good soon once I teach your body what it is made for.”

His voice is maddening calm, almost resembling something soft. If it wasn’t the situation, I might have found it comforting. Endearing.

“This won’t be good,” I whisper, “and I won’t feel anything, but disgust.”

His lips curls and blue eyes blaze with challenge. “Oh yeah? Wanna bet?”

He takes another step forward, hands in his pockets and gaze with a dark glint like that of a predator.

“Wanna bet I can have you gasping my name?” Another step. “Wanna bet you’ll come apart with just my fingers?” Now, he’s standing in front of me, and his breath ghosts over my cheek, sending a jolt of electricity down my spine against my will.

Mint. I smell mint interwoven with dark spice and leather with something darker, manly. Something primally him.

“Wanna bet, Uccellina that I can make your tight cunt beg for my cock?”

My body betrays me, shivering at his words.

The amusement in his eyes tells me he notices it before his finger reaches to my face.

I flinch, startled by the softness as he traces it down the side of my face.

“Wanna bet that I can make you see heaven?” 

Against my will, I forget how to breathe. His scent, his voice, his nearness. They drown me.

 My voice barely works, but I manage to speak

“You can have my body. But you’ll never own anything else. Not my moans. Not your name on my lips. I won’t give you that.”

He studies me, then chuckles darkly. “They always say that in the beginning.”

Before I can react, he lifts me effortlessly off the floor. I gasp, squirming, but it’s no use. His hand is firm on my waist and his hard chest is doing a good job caging me.

He throws me on the bed like I weigh nothing.

I bounce, breathless, before scrambling back, trying to find the edge.

“Wait—” I choke out.

“How do you want it?” he says casually. “Screaming into the pillows, or face to face?”

My breath hitches. I’m shaking. Think, Elara. Stall. Do something. You can’t just let this happen.

“Though I’ll prefer face to face just to watch your eyes roll back in pleasure while I fuck you.”

“I want… thirty days.” Words tumble out of my mouth.

He stops and groans in frustration.

“I’m not following this little fantasy of yours, Uccellina.”

“If this is happening, give me thirty days,” I say quickly. “Me and you. Talk. Exist. Not this.” I wave between us. “No sex. Just get to know each other.”

He blinks, disoriented for a second.

“You want coffee dates with me?” he laughs.

“Not like that,” I say quickly. “Just my condition.

He steps back slightly, voice colder than before. “Why the hell would I agree to that?”

“Because you’re going to have me anyway. Can’t I at least choose how it starts?”

“Thirty days of me and you.” He looks me over with a tilt of his head.

“Yes,” I push, knowing men like him crave the challenge. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid you’ll fall for me.”

He looks at me like I’ve grown another head. “You think I’ll fall for you?”

I lift my chin. “No. I think you won’t. But if you’re so sure, what’s the harm?”

His eyes narrow, a flicker of something dangerous lurking behind them.