The night swallowed me whole as I stepped outside, clutching my bag like it was the last piece of me I had left. My arms shook, my fingers locked so tight around the strap they burned. I thought I'd carry it to the car, hold on to this one small choice.

But Marcus didn't let me carry it. He reached over, took the bag from my hands, and walked on. I watched him go, my throat tight. Even my little bag wasn't mine anymore.

I froze, my chest tightening. That bag wasn't much, but it was mine. And now even that was out of my control.

Marcus didn't slow down, didn't look at me. He just turned and walked ahead, the sound of his steady footsteps pulling me forward like an invisible leash.

I followed, my legs heavy, my throat tight. The night air felt colder now, sharper, biting against my skin.

The car waited at the curb, black and sleek, its windows tinted so dark it looked like a coffin on wheels. Marcus opened the back door without a word. I slid inside, my heart thundering, my throat too dry to swallow.

As the door shut, the city disappeared behind me. My old life disappeared.

The engine purred, smooth and steady, while the world outside blurred into streaks of light. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, my breath fogging the window. My apartment. My bed. My books. All gone. I told myself not to cry, not in front of Marcus, but the burn behind my eyes refused to leave.

Minutes stretched like hours. My chest tightened more with every turn the car made, pulling me deeper into a world I didn't understand. A world that belonged to Damian.

And then I saw it.

The mansion rose from the ground like something out of a dream-or a nightmare. Tall gates of black iron opened slowly, groaning like an ancient beast. Beyond them, the house glowed under the night sky, all sharp lines and glass windows that caught the moonlight. It wasn't just a house-it was a fortress. A palace. A trap.

The car rolled up the long driveway, past perfectly trimmed gardens and statues that seemed to watch me with cold eyes. My pulse raced faster. My stomach twisted tighter. This wasn't my world. I didn't belong here.

The car stopped in front of wide marble steps. Marcus got out first, standing tall like a shadow carved from stone. He opened my door and waited. His silence said more than words ever could-obey, or regret it.

My legs trembled as I stepped out. The air smelled different here-clean, sharp, expensive. Too expensive for me. I tightened my grip on my bag like it could anchor me, but it felt too small, too useless against a place like this.

Inside, the mansion swallowed me whole. Crystal chandeliers hung from ceilings so high they made me dizzy. The floors gleamed like glass, reflecting my every shaky step. Gold-framed paintings lined the walls, their eyes following me, judging me. Every corner sparkled, every detail screamed wealth.

And all I could think was-none of this is mine. None of this is safe.

Marcus led me down a long hallway, our footsteps echoing. The silence pressed hard against my chest. We stopped at a tall white door. He opened it, motioned for me to go in, then stepped back.

I walked inside-and froze.

The room was beautiful, breathtaking even. A huge bed sat in the center, its sheets a soft cream color, pillows stacked high like clouds. Curtains draped in gold shimmered softly in the light. A vanity table sparkled in the corner, its mirror catching my pale, frightened face.

But it wasn't the room that stole my breath.

It was what was waiting for me on the bed.

Dresses.

Not just any dresses-gowns that shimmered like liquid fire. Red silk, black velvet, silver satin. Each one more daring than the last. The necklines plunged so low my chest tightened just looking at them. The cuts were bold, sharp, designed to show skin, to turn me into something I wasn't sure I could be.

Beside them lay delicate shoes with tall heels, shining under the light. Luxury handbags lined up neatly, each one worth more than my entire life savings. On the vanity sat boxes of jewelry, their lids open to reveal necklaces and earrings that glowed with diamonds, rubies, sapphires.

And then I saw them.

The lingerie.

Black lace, thin straps, fabric so sheer it felt wrong to even look at. Tiny pieces of silk that weren't made to cover-they were made to reveal. I swallowed hard, my face burning. My body stiffened with shame and fear.

This wasn't clothing. This was control.

Damian hadn't just taken my freedom. He was taking me apart, piece by piece, reshaping me into what he wanted.

My knees weakened. I dropped my bag onto the floor, the sound loud in the quiet room. My hands trembled as I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hide from the truth laid out on that bed.

This was my new life.

And I hated it.

I didn't hear Marcus leave. I didn't notice the door shut. But I felt it-the silence after he was gone, heavy and final. My chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths. My legs carried me closer to the bed, though every step felt wrong. I reached out, my fingers brushing the fabric of one of the dresses. Soft. Smooth. Cold.

I pulled my hand back like I'd touched fire.

These weren't gifts. They were chains.

My mind raced. What if I refused to wear them? What if I said no? But the memory of Damian's eyes, sharp as knives, burned through me. His warning echoed in my skull. You belong to me now.

I sank down on the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands. The dresses blurred in my vision, their colors bleeding together. Fear clawed at my throat until it was hard to breathe.

And then I heard it.

Footsteps.

Slow. Steady. Coming closer.

My head snapped up, my heart slamming against my ribs. The sound grew louder, echoing in the hallway. Each step was calm, confident, unhurried-like the person already knew I couldn't escape.

Damian.

The doorknob turned.

I froze, my whole body stiff, my breath caught in my chest. The door opened, light spilling into the room.

And there he was.

Damian stepped inside, his tall frame filling the doorway, his eyes locking on me instantly. His gaze flicked from my face to the dresses, then back to me. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips, and it sent a chill racing down my spine.

"You've seen your new world," he said softly, his voice smooth, dangerous. "Now, let's see how well you fit into it."

My stomach dropped. My pulse roared in my ears.

Because at that moment, I knew-this wasn't just about clothes.

It was about ownership.

And I wasn't sure I would survive it.

My mouth went dry. I didn't move. I couldn't.

Damian didn't wait for me to answer. He walked past me like he owned the floor beneath his feet-which he did. A dark leather couch sat against the wall, and he lowered himself onto it with slow, calm ease. He rested one arm along the backrest, legs slightly apart, relaxed like this was nothing. Like I was nothing.

His eyes never left me.

"Go on," he said quietly. "Pick one."

My stomach twisted. I stared at the dresses on the bed, my hands shaking at my sides. I didn't know which one to touch. I didn't want to touch any of them.

"Put it on," he added, voice steady, almost gentle-but the kind of gentle that came with a warning. "I won't repeat myself."

I swallowed so hard it hurt. My feet felt nailed to the floor. I forced myself to reach toward the bed, fingers trembling as they brushed the edge of a red silk dress. It felt like ice and fire at the same time.

Damian leaned back into the couch, still watching me. I could feel his stare on my skin, heavy and sharp.

"Don't take all night," he said. "I'm waiting."

The room felt smaller with him sitting there. The air seemed too thin. My breaths came too fast. I picked up the red dress with both hands, but my arms were weak. The fabric slipped once before I caught it again.

I turned my back to him, trying to hide the panic clawing up my throat.

Before I could take a step, his voice cut through the air.

"No," he said. "Right there."

I froze.

My heart pounded so loud my ears rang. "Here?" I whispered, afraid to turn around.

"That's what I said."

I could feel his eyes on me, hot and unblinking. I clutched the dress tighter, my fingers digging into the silk. My breath stuttered, my body stiff with fear. I didn't know what would be worse-putting it on... or refusing.

My fingers shook so badly I almost dropped the dress. I could feel his gaze burning into my back, waiting. Expecting.

I couldn't breathe.

Slowly, with hands I could barely control, I reached for the zipper of my old clothes. The sound was soft, but in the quiet room it felt deafening. My heart pounded so hard I thought he might hear it.

I pulled the dress I was wearing down my shoulders. The fabric slid off my skin, and cold air rushed over me like a ghost. I stood there in just my undie*, every inch of me exposed to the silence... and to him.

I didn't turn around, but I didn't have to. I could feel his eyes on me-heavy, sharp, unblinking. My skin prickled under his stare, like he was touching me without moving a finger.

My mind spun. What was he thinking? Was he judging me? Was he pleased? Disappointed? I hated that I cared-but fear crawled under my ribs anyway.

My arms crossed over my chest on instinct, trying to cover myself, but it didn't help. I could feel it-his gaze lingering. On my back. On my waist. On the curve of my body I wished he couldn't see.

And then I felt it-his eyes lower... stopping on my brea*t.

My throat tightened. Shame hit me hard. My body stiffened like I was trapped in a spotlight. I didn't want him to look at me like that. I didn't want him to look at me at all. But he did. And he didn't stop.

Was he amused? Was he planning something? Was this all part of the price he said I had to pay?

My heart pounded so fast I thought it might break through my chest. I bit the inside of my lip to stop it from trembling. I wanted to scream, or run, or hide-but I couldn't do any of those things.

I stood there frozen, trapped in my own skin, while he watched like he had all the time in the world.

And then...

His voice cut through the silence.

"Put it on."

My hands fumbled with the red silk dress, trying to find the opening, trying not to drop it. The material was smooth, expensive, nothing like anything I had ever worn in my life. I stepped into it, my knees weak, my fingers clumsy as I pulled it up my body.

The fabric hugged me too closely. It felt like it was molding me into someone I didn't know. Someone I didn't want to be.

Before I could try to zip it, I heard him shift on the couch.

"Turn around," Damian said, his voice low and calm.

I froze, my hands still clutching the dress against my chest. My throat tightened.

"Now."

I turned slowly, my eyes fixed on the floor. The dress hung loosely on me, unzipped, the red silk glinting under the light. I could feel my pulse in my ears, in my hands, in my knees that barely held me up.

He didn't say a word at first.

He just stared.

His eyes dragged over me in a way that made my stomach twist and my skin burn. I couldn't read his expression. I wasn't sure I wanted to.

Then....he stood.

One step. Then another. Each one slow, silent, controlled.

I forgot how to breathe.

He stopped right in front of me. So close I could feel the heat of his body. So close I could smell the faint spice of his cologne.

His hand lifted.

Not to touch me.

Not yet.

His fingers brushed the zipper.

I went still.

I didn't breathe. I didn't blink. I didn't dare move.

Slowly-too slowly-he pulled it up. The sound was soft, but it felt deafening in the quiet. Each inch of the zipper climbing my back felt like a lock closing behind me.

When it reached the top, his hand lingered... just for a second.

Then he stepped back.

I stood there, staring at nothing, my heartbeat loud in my ears. The red silk hugged my body like it had been made for me. Every curve was outlined-my waist, my hips, my chest. The fabric dipped low in the front, and I hated how exposed I felt.

I didn't turn around, but I could feel his eyes dragging over me-slow, careful, deliberate. Like he was studying something he owned.

A chill rolled down my spine.

The air felt too thin. My hands were shaking, but I curled them into fists to hide it. I couldn't tell if I should stand taller or make myself smaller. I just knew I couldn't escape his gaze.

Then I heard him move.

A quiet breath. A shift of weight. The faintest sound of leather against leather.

He was coming closer again.

My lips parted, but no sound came out. I could feel the heat of his stare, heavy on my skin, settling on the places the dress didn't hide.

My heart pounded harder with every step he took.

And then...

His voice, low and unreadable, slid through the air.

"Turn around."

My stomach dropped.

Because I knew the next move wasn't mine anymore.