chapter 2

Yesha Elaine couldn’t sleep that night. Not with the memory of him seared into her mind—the calm control in his movements, the cold certainty in his gaze, the way he had claimed her before she even understood what had happened. he left after they talk but he sternly ask her to fix her things and make sure she doesn't run away.

The rain had stopped, but the storm inside her refused to settle. She kept the envelope pressed to her chest like a shield, as if it could somehow protect her from what she already knew was coming.

Because she knew he would come again.

She didn’t know when, or how, but she knew.

The next morning came with cruel clarity. Her phone buzzed insistently while she tried to convince herself she was imagining last night. Work. Deadlines. Calls. Emails. Responsibilities she had fought tooth and nail to maintain. Yet in every echo of her day, she felt it—the pull of his presence, the gravity of someone who existed entirely outside her world, yet now controlled it.

Then, the text arrived.

“Come to my office at 9 am sharp. We need to talk, I will send you the address don't be late I hate waiting. ”

I didn't know who sent me a message and how he knew my number but one thing is certain. It was from the man yesterday

The lobby of the building was sleek, cold, intimidating. Marble floors reflected fluorescent lights, and the receptionist barely looked up as Yesha entered, as if she was invisible—insignificant. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the entire space had been designed to remind people how small they were.

the receptionist ask her name, once he knew my name her expression change like he was talking to a very important person. She ask someone to help her.

She rode the elevator in tense silence, each floor climbing like a countdown to the inevitable. Her pulse thumped in her ears. She clutched the envelope, knowing that inside was the contract that had rewritten her life without her permission.

The elevator dinged at the top floor, and she stepped out into a hallway that smelled faintly of leather and citrus. Everything about the place screamed power—money, control, authority. This was his world. And she was about to enter it. She thank one of the staff who help her. She smile at her.

She knock few times and someone from inside open the door.

it was probably his Assistant.

”Come in Ms. Valdez, Mr. Dale has been waiting for you" he said.

His office door was massive, dark wood with a single brass handle. Yesha hesitated, hand hovering over it, heart hammering against her ribs like it wanted to escape. And then she remembered last night—the storm, the way he had looked at her, the way he had claimed her.

He was there. Standing by the window. Tall. Unflinching. Watching the city beneath him like it was nothing more than a chessboard.

“Yesha,” he said without turning, voice smooth and controlled. “You came.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice firmer than she felt. ”as you asked.”

He finally turned. And there he was—everything she remembered and more. The perfect dark suit tailored to accentuate every line of his body, his hair still just damp enough to be alluring, and that smile—dangerous, knowing, commanding. The kind of smile that made her pulse spike and her stomach tighten all at once.

“Good,” he said, stepping closer, closing the distance between them effortlessly. “Sit.”

Her heels clicked against the floor as she obeyed, though every instinct screamed at her not to.

“You know why you’re here,” he continued, voice dropping lower, almost a purr. “That contract… it’s binding. And now, so are you.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, but her tone was sharper, defensive. “I signed it under duress—I didn’t…”

“You didn’t?” he interrupted, leaning casually against his desk, the kind of easy dominance that made it clear he had never had to fight for control. “Yesha Elaine, you think you didn’t? The moment you signed, you surrendered. That’s what agreements like this do. They don’t wait for your feelings. They don’t ask for permission.”

Her hands tightened in her lap. “You can’t just… own someone. That’s not how it works.”

His smile widened. “Ah, but it is. You’re mine. Not in a cruel way—not yet—but legally, professionally… personally. You don’t get to decide anymore. That’s the reality.”

Her stomach sank. Her heart pounded. The world she had struggled to control, the independence she had fought for—it was slipping through her fingers faster than she could react.

She didn't know there were times like this. She work her ass off just to graduate in university only to be a slave of this man!

“I… I don’t belong to you,” she whispered.

“You already do,” he said softly, stepping closer until she could feel the heat radiating from him, his presence overwhelming. “And believe me, Yesha… I’ll make sure you understand that fully.”

She tried to stand, to move, but the weight of the room, the power in his presence, pinned her in place. He didn’t need to touch her; just existing in that space was enough to make her feel small, insignificant, and completely, utterly vulnerable.

He circled her slowly, like a predator inspecting its prey, and she couldn’t stop herself from watching him, memorizing every movement. The way he exuded control, the way he seemed untouchable, unshakable… and yet, somehow, intensely focused on her.

“When you get drunk you ask if I am rich. If I could give you everything you want” he said, stopping in front of her again. “And now… I’m offering it. But there’s a price. One you’ve already agreed to pay.”

Her throat went dry. “And if I refuse?”

His eyes darkened. “Refusal isn’t an option, Yesha. You signed. You agreed. You belong to me—whether you accept it or not. And the sooner you understand that, the sooner this will all be… easier.”

Easier.

Yesha shivered. There was nothing easy about this. Nothing safe. Nothing she wanted… and yet, she couldn’t look away.

Because beneath the fear, beneath the anger, beneath the confusion… there was something else.

Something intoxicating. Something dangerous.

Something that made her pulse race in a way she hated.

He leaned closer. The scent of him was sharp, intoxicating, undeniable. Every word he spoke, every subtle movement, was precise and deliberate. “You belong to me now, Yesha Elaine. Every choice you thought you had is gone. And I intend to remind you of that… often.”

Her breath hitched, and she realized, with a mixture of fear and something darker—curiosity, temptation, even a grudging fascination—that her life had changed forever.

And in that moment, she understood: this was just the beginning.