They didn't take me back to a cell. That was the first thing I noticed.

 The second thing I noticed was the silence. This place they were taking me for the "clean up" was quieter.

 A lot cleaner as well.

 "Stand still."

 The order came as soon as they pushed me into a brightly lit room. I blinked against the sudden light, my eyes struggling to adjust.

 After being in the dark cell for so long, everything felt too sharp and too bright.

 I hesitated for half a second while I struggled to stay put.

 A hand grabbed my arm.

 "I said stand still."

 "I''m trying," I whispered quickly, exhaustion rising.

 The grip loosened.

 Women entered the room. They were not like the armed men. They had a ofter movements and calmer faces.

 But their eyes... their eyes told me everything.

 They were just as important as the guards and on some level, maybe more ruthless.

 "Clean her," one of the men ordered the women before stepping out.

 That was it.

 The door was slammed shut and suddenly... I was surrounded.

 "Take off the dress," one of the women said.

 My breath hitched.

 "Wh...what?"

 She didn't even react. "Take. It. Off."

 My hands trembled as I reached for the fabric. The dress I had worn two nights ago felt heavier now.

  A lot dirtier too.

 Stained with dirt and tears and sweat and blood. It didn't belong on me anymore.

 I didn't belong in it anymore.

 I pulled it off slowly, my fingers shaking, my chest tight with humiliation.

 I wrapped my arms around myself immediately, trying to hide my nakedness, trying to feel like I still had any dignity left.

 They didn't care.

 Hands pulled me forward.

 Warm water hit my skin and I flinched.

 It had been so long since I felt anything gentle that my body didn't know how to react. My shoulders tensed, my breath uneven as they began to wash me.

 Carefully and efficiently like I was an object being prepared and not a person.

 "Stop shaking," one of them murmured as she washed my hair.

 "I can't," I whispered.

 She didn't respond.

 They scrubbed away the dirt. The blood. The evidence of everything that had happened. My husband's vile touch.

 The floor of the cell. The fear.

 But they couldn't scrub away what I felt inside.

 That stayed.

  I fear it was never going to leave.

 "Turn," another ordered.

 I obeyed immediately.I didn't even think about resisting anymore. There was no point.

 They rinsed my hair, brushing through it gently.  

 The softness of it made my throat tighten. I wasn't expecting this, didn't understand it and hence, I didn't trust it.

 This didn't feel like kindness.

 When they were done, they wrapped me in a soft cloth. Dried my skin. Dressed me in something new, simple, but clean.

 "Good," one of them said, stepping back. "He won't like mess."

 My stomach twisted.

 He.

 Bane.

 The door opened again. It was one of the guards that had brought me here.

 "Bring her. The boss wants to see her now"

 My heart started racing immediately.

 This was it.

 My feet moved before my mind could catch up. I followed them out, my hands clenched tightly at my sides, my breathing shallow.

 "Please..." I whispered before I could stop myself. "Don't-"

 "Stop talking," the man beside me snapped.

 I shut up immediately.

 We stopped in front of a large door. Bigger than the rest.

 The man knocked once and then opened it without waiting and took me inside.

 "Boss. The girl is here"

 The room was... different.

 It smelt like power and at the center of it... was him.

 Bane.

 He stood near the window, his back partially turned, hands in his pockets.

 "Leave us," he said.

 The man beside me obeyed immediately and left. The door shut.

 And suddenly...It was just Bane and I.

 I didn't move. I didn't speak. I didn't even know how to exist in the same space as him.

 He turned slowly.

 His eyes found mine again and just like before I couldn't look away.

 "Come here, Amaya."

 I took a step forward. Then another and another until I stopped a few feet away from him.

 He looked at me fully now and my heart was beating so fast I thought I might collapse.

 "You clean up well," he said.

 My throat tightened.

 "Thank you..."

 Why did I say that? Why was I thanking him?

 I didn't understand anything anymore.

 "You were married two days ago," he said.

 "Yes." My voice came out barely above a whisper.

 "And now?"

 I was almost excited to say the next words that came out of my mouth.

 "He's... dead."

 "I know. I was the one who ordered the hit."

  "What happens to me now?"

 I finally asked.

 Silence fell between us.

 "What happens now is that you belong to me, Amaya Vancouver."

 The words landed like a final blow.

 I froze and my mind went blank.

 "I....." My voice broke. I swallowed hard. "I don't understand..."

 His expression didn't change.

 "You were bought," he said simply. "Then taken," he took a step closer, "Now you're mine and belong to me."

 I shook my head slightly, panic rising.

 "Please... I can't... I don't want that"

 His hand moved suddenly gripping my chin. It wasn't violent but it was firm and unyielding.

 "You don't get to want," he said quietly.

 My breath stopped as tears filled my eyes instantly. This can't be happening to me.

 "Listen carefully," His voice cut through everything.

  "If you agree to be my little princess..." he said slowly, his grip tightening just enough to keep my attention, "you live."

 My heart pounded violently.

 "And if I don't?" I whispered.

 "I send you to meet your husband. I'm sure he misses you already."

 My knees nearly gave out. I sucked in a sharp breath, panic and fear and confusion crashing over me in waves.

 I had two options.

 Die...

 Or...

 Accept this.

 Accept this man who could be worse than Raul. But at least this time, I got to choose.

 My lips trembled but his eyes didn't leave mine.

 "I..."

 "Go on, princess" he said calmly.

 "I agree," I whispered.

 His grip loosened but he didn't step away.

 Instead his thumb brushed lightly against my cheek, and he leaned in and said to me.

 "You'll learn to love it here"

The air in the hallway was thick with the scent of expensive floor wax and something more metallic.

 I didn't have a name for it but what I did have for it was a feeling.

 A terrible reminder I was now a part of this monster's world.

 Bane Valak.

 My feet felt heavy as I followed him, the plush carpet beneath my toes doing nothing to soften the blow of my new reality.

 Two weeks ago I was getting my hair curled in a high end salon, surrounded by girls who hated me but stuck around because our fathers were rich.

 I wonder what I would have done back then if I knew that in such short time I could go from being sold to stolen to being turned into........ a possession.

 A toy.

 A 'princess'.

 Bane stopped abruptly in front of a pair of towering mahogany doors.

 He didn't turn to look at me, but I could feel the weight of his presence.

 It was like a physical pressure against my body.

"Listen closely, Princess," he said, his voice a low, rasp that sent a shiver of pure dread down my spine. "My house is not a prison, provided you understand that it is also not a playground. There are rules."

 He turned to face me then, "If you violate them, and you'll find out exactly why your husband is currently a memory."

 I swallowed hard, my fingers twisting into the hem of the dress he'd had someone leave for me.

 "I..I understand."

 He turned then, his dark eyes tracking the movement of my hands before settling on my face.

 He stepped closer into my personal space, forcing me to tilt my head back just to keep him in view.

 He was so huge.

 "First," he began, ticking a finger off. "You do not leave the premises. Not the gates, not the garden walls. To the world, you died with your husband, Raul. If you step outside, I cannot guarantee you will see the light of day"

I nodded once, my brain unable to search for the right words to respond with.

"Second," he continued, leaning in until I could smell the faint hint of bourbon and cold air on his skin.

"You do as you are told. If I send a maid to dress you, you dress. If I tell you to move, you move. My word is absolute. Do you understand me, Princess?"

"Yes"

 "Third," he said, his hand reaching out to catch a stray lock of my hair, tucking it behind my ear.

His touch was almost but not quite gentle. He looked me in the eye as he continued speaking.

"You will always appear presentable. You are a reflection of this house and me now. I will not have you looking like a victim, even if you may feel like one."

His fingers lingered on the shell of my ear, and I felt my breath hitch.

He was toying with me.

"Fourth," he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second.

"No phones. No internet. No tethers to the life that you used to have. However, I am not a savage. You have full access to the library. Read. Learn. Occupy your mind so it doesn't rot with useless hope."

Useless hope?

I realized that I was in someway I was holding on to useless hope.

Hope that someone would come find me and get me out of here.

He paused, his grip suddenly tightened on my arm , forcing me to look up directly into the abyss of his eyes.

"And fifth, Amaya. The most important rule of all."

He leaned down, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered the final command.

"You belong to me. To me, and me alone. Not to your dead husband's ghost. If another man touches you, I will kill him. If you seek out another man, I will make you watch while I do it. Do you understand?"

 "Yes," I whispered, the word barely a breath.

 My heart was beating so fast that I wouldn't be shocked if he could hear it all the way from where he stood.

"Good." He released my arm, turned and pushed the heavy mahogany doors open.

What I saw next was a library that was staggering.

Even that had to be an understatement.

The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with leather-bound books, a rolling ladder tucked into a corner, and a massive velvet chaise lounge sitting in the center of the room.

Even better, it was right under a crystal chandelier.

 It was a sanctuary made of gold and paper, like the most beautiful cell in the world.

 He stepped back, gesturing for me to enter.

I walked in, the silence of the room swallowing the sound of my footsteps.

I waited for him to say something else.

 Maybe a parting threat, some form of mockery, but when I turned around, he was already leaving.

He quietly pulled the doors shut.

The click of the lock echoing through the room was the final blow.

 I stood in the center of the room, alone, surrounded by the wisdom of centuries and the stories of a thousand lives.

I should have been glad.

But I felt my knees finally give out.

 I collapsed onto the thick Persian rug, the weight of the last twenty-four hours crashing over me like a tidal wave.

I didn't look at the books, I couldn't bring myself to think of them mattered.

I just buried my face in my hands and let out a jagged, broken sob.

I sat there and cried.

I cried for the girl who thought her wedding day would be the start of a life, even if it was going to be a miserable one.

 I cried for the husband I hadn't loved but who had been slaughtered before my eyes.

I cried because I had looked into Bane Valak's eyes and seen a man who wanted to break me and own the every single piece.

I cried because I'm so scared.

The leather of my chair creaked as I leaned back and let out a long sigh.

 The silence of my study feeling like a terrible weight against my chest.

 My knuckles were still stained with the faint, metallic scent of blood despite the proper soap scrubbing I'd given them.

 They also hurt a bit but that's what the whiskey and the pain killers were for.

 Getting rid of the pain that stayed with me after I inflicted it on others.

 This time it was rival I had inflicted pain on.

 He was some arrogant prick from the Moretti line but now he was gone.

 I had personally watched the life flicker out of his eyes, a hollow victory that left nothing but a bitter aftertaste.

 It was always the same.

The adrenaline of the kill would spike, and then the drop would follow, leaving me in this gray, depressing head space where my heart felt like an empty cavern.

I was thirty-eight years old, the head of my very own empire, and I felt like a ghost haunting my own life.

 There was no release for this, no way for me to ease the pressure building behind my ribs.

Just the cold, empty reality that is my life.

 I pressed my fingers to my temples, the flickering fire in the hearth doing little to warm the chill in my bones.

Then, a thought flickered through my head.

A pale face with big, terrified eyes the color of a stormy sea.

'The princess.'

How did I forget about her? I reached for the intercom on my desk.

 A guard on the other side connected and answered.

"Yes, boss?"

 "Bring her to me," I commanded, my tired voice sounding foreign even to my own ears.

 Minutes later, the heavy doors groaned open.

Amaya stepped inside, flanked by two of my men.

She looked small. Even more so In the vastness of the room.

She was wearing a simple, dark dress that clung to her curves, her pale skin practically glowing against the fabric.

 It's hard to explain what I felt seeing her.

It was a sharp, sudden jolt in my gut that I hadn't felt in years.

It wasn't just desire; it was an unexpected pull, a magnetic shift that centered my entire focus on the woman trembling ten feet away from me.

My pulse, usually a steady, icy rhythm, hammered once against my throat.

What was this?

Why was I feeling this way?

Should I be feeling this way?

I kept my expression cold and distant.

 I didn't let a single muscle in my face betray the chaos she was causing in my blood.

 "Leave us" I said to the guards and they obeyed.

 It was just Amaya and I.

We both said nothing while I simply stared, cataloging her every detail.

The way her collarbones looked like fragile glass. The slight tremor in her lower lip.

The way her hair caught the firelight.

 So beautiful.

"You're shaking, princess," I said, my voice dropping an octave.

She didn't answer, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

"Look at me." I commanded.

She lifted her head, and the raw vulnerability there almost made me reach out.

 I considered it but Instead, I stood up and walked toward the grand piano sitting in the shadowed corner of the room.

 It was a masterpiece of ebony and ivory, a relic of a mother who had loved music more than she loved her son.

"Sit," I gestured to the bench. "Play."

She blinked, confusion momentarily overriding her fear.

"What?"

 "My people tell me you used to play the Piano"

 "Yes," She replied and added, "I... I haven't played in a long time"

 "I didn't ask for a history of your hobbies. I told you to play."

She slid onto the bench, her movements stiff.

She hovered her hands over the keys for a long moment before she began. It wasn't a happy song.

It was something melancholic, a classical piece that wept through the room.

It sounded like she was crying through it. I leaned against the mahogany pillar, watching her.

 From this angle, I could see the graceful curve of her neck and the way her lashes cast long, feathered shadows against her cheeks.

 She looked like peace, and I was a man of war.

 Her fingers danced over the ivory, and for the first time that night, the hollow ache in my chest began to recede, replaced by a dark, possessive heat.

 I wanted to see that skin flushed.

 I wanted to hear her make sounds that had nothing to do with music and everything to do with me.

 But I remained still.

 I've always been a man that valued his self control, I was not about to lose that now because of this strange girl.

 The final note of the piano echoed into the rafters, fading into a silence that felt intimate in an odd way.

 Amaya kept her head bowed, her chest heaving slightly as she waited for my judgment.

 I felt the urge to go to her, to tilt her head back and taste the fear and the music on her lips.

 The hunger was so sudden, so sharp, it disgusted me.

 I wasn't going to let my loins dictate my movements.

 I pushed off the pillar, my face returning to the mask of cold indifference that had kept me alive for nearly four decades.

 "Adequate," I said finally.

 She looked up, her eyes searching mine for something but whatever it was, she didn't find it. She looked away then.

 "Go back to your room," I said comfy, turning my back to her. "I have work to do. Do not let me see you again tonight."

 I heard the soft rustle of her dress as she stood, then her frantic footsteps as she hurried toward the door.

 Only when the click of the lock signaled her departure did I let out the breath I had been holding.

 I looked at the piano keys she had touched, then at my own hands. They were shaking.