Chapter Seven – Consequences
Annabell's heart wouldn't stop pounding on the ride back to Yinix headquarters. Michael's words echoed in her mind—I will definitely punish you for this.
She tried to rehearse an explanation, but nothing she thought of sounded good enough. By the time she reached the polished lobby, her hands were trembling.
The receptionist's gaze flicked to her with something like pity. "He's in his office," she whispered.
Annabell swallowed and squared her shoulders. When she stepped into the glass-walled room, Michael didn't look up. He sat behind the massive mahogany desk, flipping through a folder.
"Mr. Michael, please," she began, voice shaky. "I—I didn't mean to leave without telling you. Mia just—"
"Sit," he interrupted coolly, sliding a stack of files toward her without meeting her eyes.
Annabell stared at the papers, her chest tightening. "I'm sorry," she tried again, softer this time.
"Review these reports," he said, still not looking at her. "Cross-reference them with the forged invoices you found this morning. We need evidence that will hold up in court."
The room felt colder than ever. She wanted to crawl under the desk and disappear. She lowered her gaze to the documents, throat tight.
All afternoon, he gave her no more than clipped instructions—nothing of the warmth he'd shown her that morning. She tried to focus on the work, to bury the ache in her chest. But every time she glanced up and saw the rigid set of his jaw, her stomach knotted with guilt and something she didn't want to name.
By the time they finally left the office, the sun was gone. Michael drove them home in silence. The tension between them sat like a stormcloud in the back seat.
When they arrived at the penthouse, he finally turned to her. His voice was quiet but uncompromising.
"Come upstairs."
Annabell's pulse skittered. She followed him into the elevator, heart thrumming with dread and anticipation.
The moment they stepped into his bedroom, he turned to face her. His eyes were dark, unreadable in the dim lamplight.
"Do you remember what I told you?" he asked softly.
She swallowed. "That you would… punish me."
"That's right."
She opened her mouth to apologize again, but he lifted a hand and she fell silent.
"Strip," he said simply.
Her breath caught. "What?"
"Take. It. Off."
Her cheeks went hot. Her hands shook as she reached for the buttons of her blouse. She hesitated, glancing up, but his expression didn't soften.
"Don't make me repeat myself."
Annabell looked away, cheeks burning. She slipped her blouse off her shoulders, then fumbled with her skirt. It felt like the longest moment of her life. The air was cool against her skin, her legs weak with shame and reluctant excitement.
When she stood in her underthings, arms folded over her chest, Michael's gaze swept over her with an intensity that made her knees threaten to give way.
Her voice trembled. "Please… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
He closed the space between them in two strides. She gasped as he took her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"I know you didn't mean to," he said quietly. "But you are mine, Annabell. You don't walk away from me without permission. Not ever."
She shivered at the possessive edge in his voice.
"Your hesitation displeases me," he continued, eyes darkening. "When I tell you to do something, you will do it. Without question."
He released her chin and stepped back, studying her flushed face. "Finish," he ordered, his tone low and commanding.
Annabell's hands moved to the clasp of her bra. Her legs were shaking so badly she thought she might collapse. She had never felt so exposed—or so undeniably alive.
When she finally stood before him, stripped of everything but her pride, he tilted his head, eyes raking over her.
"Good," he murmured, voice softer now, but no less firm. "Remember this the next time you think of defying me."
She swallowed hard, heart hammering. A thousand emotions warred in her chest—fear, shame, desire.
But when he stepped forward to brush his knuckles tenderly down her cheek, she knew she wouldn't trade that moment for anything.
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