Chapter 5

ELARA POV

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

His word isn’t lost on me.

I’m probably going to be 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. 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 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.

“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 now 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 draws, his voice as smooth as the amber liquid in his glass.

I say nothing, but my nails scrape the metal door behind me.

“Come here.”

It’s an order, low and vibrating with authority that my body almost adheres to. But I catch myself before it can, and I still don’t move. He sets the glass down with a sharp clink that echoes in the silent room. “You’re trembling, Elara. There’s no need. I’m not going to break you.” He takes a step forward, a dark smirk playing on his lips. “Not yet, anyway.”

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

“I’m not trembling,” I lie, though my knees feel like water. “And I’m not yours to break.”

“Aren’t you?” He closes the distance in two long strides. Suddenly, the scent of mint and expensive whiskey floods my senses. He stops inches from me, trapping me between his hard body and the door. He doesn't touch me, but his presence alone is suffocating.

“You’re wearing the clothes I bought. Standing in the room I own. Your father sold you, Uccellina. You are as much mine as the gun in my pocket.”

“You can own the debt,” I whisper, tilting my chin up to meet his icy glare. “You can even force my body. But you will never own me. You’ll never have my submission. I will hate you with every breath I take.”

His eyes darken, the blue turning into a storm. “Is that a challenge?”

“It’s a promise.”

He laughs, a dark, humorless sound. “I like a promise I can tear apart.” Before I can blink, his hands grip my waist. I gasp as he lifts me effortlessly, throwing me onto the bed like I weigh nothing.

I bounce against the mattress and scramble backward, but he’s already looming over me, crawling up the bed with the grace of a predatory cat. “Wait!” I hold up a hand, my heart hammering against my ribs.

He pauses, hovering over me, his knees caging my hips.

“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’d prefer face to face,” he murmurs.  “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.