جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 270

Chapter 2The heavy oak front door clicks shut behind him, but the sound is swallowed instantly by the thunder cracking overhead. I don't let myself think. I don't let the cold, creeping dread of that text message settle in my bones. If I stop, I’ll have to process what my father did, what Rowan came here to do, and I can’t. Not yet. The only thing that exists right now is the magnetic pull dragging me toward the garage.I push through the side door into the dank, oil-scented air of the garage. The storm outside isn't just rain; it’s a violent, thrashing beast that rattles the corrugated metal roof. Rain hammers against the concrete driveway outside, a deafening roar that drowns out the world, leaving just this dim, grey space and the man standing next to his black pickup truck.Rowan has his back to me, one hand braced on the hood of his truck. He looks like a man fighting a war inside his own skin, every muscle in his back tense beneath his damp shirt."You lied," I say, my voice

Chapter 4Everything in hear is too bright, too clean. The air smells heavily of chlorine and expensive sunscreen, a chemical sweetness that coats the back of my throat. I float on my back in the center of the pool, letting the water push me up, staring at the high, vaulted ceiling.Near the edge, under a large white umbrella, my father and Rowan sit at a wrought-iron table. They are surrounded by spreadsheets and tablets, the blue light of the screens reflecting on their faces. My father is talking, his hands moving in sharp, chopping motions as he emphasizes some point about logistics or profit margins. Rowan listens, nodding slowly, sipping from a glass of iced water.I turn onto my stomach and begin a slow breaststroke toward the shallow end, cutting through the water with deliberate, lazy movements. The bikini I chose is black, barely there, high-cut on the hips to show off my legs. It’s a deliberate choice.As I get closer, I watch Rowan. He hasn’t looked at me once. Not a si

Chapter 6The water feels heavy as I pull myself up the ladder, the chlorine clinging to my skin like a second, chemical layer. I can feel the weight of Rowan’s gaze even before I see him, a burning, invisible touch that skates over my thighs and the curve of my ass. I don't look at him. I don't look at my father, still droning on about quarterly projections and profit margins. I just walk, the water sluicing off my body, hitting the tiles with a wet, rhythmic slap.I aim straight for Rowan. He’s sitting in the wrought-iron chair, stiff as a board, his knuckles white where he grips the armrests. He thinks he can hide behind his stoicism, thinks he can pretend I didn’t just ruin him under that table. He thinks the taste of my mouth is gone from his tongue.I stop right in front of him. The sun is blinding, reflecting off the pool surface and making me squint, but I don't need to see to know exactly where he is. I let my leg drag against his as I step past, not an accidental brush,

Chapter 1 I’m twenty-four, a graphic designer with a fancy degree and a portfolio that gathers dust faster than it attracts clients. The eviction notice taped to my front door is the only color in my life right now.I toggle the browser window, hiding my lack of productivity. I’ve been doom-scrolling the darker corners of the net for hours, looking for freelance gigs that don’t require a soul, or at least pay enough to rent one. A link catches my eye, buried in a forum thread about "high-risk, high-reward employment." No flashy graphics, just plain text on a grey background: Live-In Companion. Total Surrender. One Year Contract. $2 Million payout.My pulse hammers against my ribs. I click.The terms are stark, laid out in brutal, black-and-white font. Applicant must be female, 18-30, fit, and willing to relinquish all autonomy. You will be owned. You will serve. No limits, no safewords, no exit clause once the contract begins. At the bottom, a simple upload button and an email fie

Chapter 4The paranoia mixes with the thrill, making my head spin.I return with two flutes, handing one to him. He takes it, his fingers brushing mine, lingering for a second too long."Good girl," he murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear.Later, we are standing near a balcony, listening to a senator drone on about tax incentives. Dominic’s hand drifts to the small of my back, then lower, slipping beneath the fabric of the dress. His fingers trail down the cleft of my ass, cold and demanding. I stiffen, my breath hitching in my throat, but I force myself to keep smiling, to keep nodding at the senator’s words.Dominic leans closer, pretending to whisper something about the speech, but his words are for me alone. "Spread your legs. Just an inch."My heart hammers against my ribs. I glance around, no one is watching. I shift my weight, parting my heels slightly on the marble floor.His hand moves deeper, his fingers finding the slick wetness of my cunt. He slides one finger inside