Chapter 6

AfterThe first rays of dawn were creeping through the floor-to-ceiling window, painting the opulent hotel room in shades of pale gold and soft gray. Leo was alone. The space on the bed beside him was cold, the sheets already smoothed into a pristine, unwrinkled state. The only evidence of the previous night’s activities was the dull, persistent ache in his body, a phantom memory of hands and mouths and a forceful, undeniable possession.

 

He sat up, the silk of the lingerie chafing against his skin. It felt different now. Last night, it had been a symbol of his secret desire, a thrilling transgression. This morning, it was a brand, a mark of his shame and his submission. He looked around the room, his eyes landing on the discarded gray hoodie and sweatpants on the floor. They looked like the remnants of another life, the life of a man who no longer existed.

 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. He felt a profound sense of dislocation, as if he had woken up in someone else’s skin. He walked into the bathroom, his movements stiff and sore. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and flinched. The man staring back at him was a stranger. His eyes were haunted, shadowed with a mixture of exhaustion and a dawning, terrifying awareness. There was a faint bruise on his jaw, a dark, possessive mark left by Adrian’s fingers. He looked away, unable to stomach the sight of his own reflection.

 

He took a long, hot shower, the water beating down on him, trying to wash away the memory of the previous night. But it was no use. Adrian’s scent seemed to have seeped into his very pores. His touch was a ghost on Leo’s skin, his voice a constant echo in his mind. You are mine. The words had been whispered into his ear, over and over again, a litany of ownership as Adrian had taken him, claimed him, broken him down and remade him in his own image.

 

He had lost count of the times he had been brought to the edge of pleasure and pain, of the number of promises he had fulfilled, of the number of times he had screamed Adrian’s name until his voice was hoarse. It had been a night of pure, unadulterated sensation, a dizzying, terrifying, and ultimately, exhilarating descent into submission.

 

But now, in the cold, hard light of day, all he felt was a crushing sense of dread.

 

He got out of the shower and dried off, his movements mechanical. He dressed quickly, pulling on the sweatpants and hoodie, the rough fabric a welcome barrier against the world. He needed to get out of here. He needed to go home, to his own apartment, to his own life, and pretend that none of this had ever happened.

 

But he knew that was impossible. His life would never be the same.

 

He walked out of the bathroom, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of Adrian. There was nothing. No note, no message, no indication that he had ever been there, other than the lingering scent of his cologne and the indelible marks he had left on Leo’s body and soul.

 

Leo’s gaze fell on the desk. His own phone was lying there, next to Adrian’s. He walked over and picked it up, his heart pounding. He had a dozen missed calls and a flood of texts from friends, wondering where he was. But it was the last message, the one from an unknown number, that made his blood run cold.

 

Unknown Number: Don’t be late for work. And wear the blue tie. I like the way it brings out your eyes.

 

It was from Adrian. Of course, it was from Adrian. He had Leo’s number. He probably had his Social Security number, his blood type, his deepest, darkest fears. He knew everything.

 

The message was a simple, seemingly innocuous instruction. But it was anything but. It was a reminder. A threat. A declaration of ownership. I am still in control. I am still watching you.

 

Leo felt a wave of nausea. He couldn’t go to work. He couldn’t face Adrian, not after what had happened. He would quit. He would pack his bags and leave the city, leave the country, and never look back.

 

But where would he go? And what would he do? His entire career was built on his reputation at Sterling & Clarke. If he quit now, without notice, he would be blacklisted from the industry. He would be nothing.