Yasmine POV
Looking into his eyes, I knew he meant every word. What had I done to warrant such obsession from this man? Fighting him now would be courting disaster—I didn't even know his full intentions yet.
I swallowed hard and nodded. Gently, he sat me on the edge of the bed and picked up the plate of lasagna.
"What are you doing? I can feed myself," I protested, pushing his hand away.
"I know," he said, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "But you are mine, and I always take care of what's mine. Now open your mouth like a good girl." He pressed the fork to my lips. There was no point in resisting. I complied.
The way he had whisked me out of the country so quietly and efficiently left no doubt: he was a powerful man, not to be trifled with. He had treated me well so far, and fighting him could only lead to disaster. I had to bide my time. He had brought me here for a reason—to tame me, perhaps.
After the last bite of lasagna, he stood, brushing past me lightly.
"One of the staff will come up to help you get ready. Be good." He leaned down and pressed a quick, almost casual kiss to my lips before leaving.
Moments later, an elderly woman with a stern expression entered the room. She didn't greet me, only looked down briefly before heading to the bathroom to draw a bath.
"It's ready," she said curtly when she returned.
"Hi, I'm Yasmine. May I have your name?" I extended my hand.
"Maria," she replied gruffly, barely acknowledging the gesture. Clearly, she didn't like me.
"I will prepare your clothes. The master wants you ready in twenty minutes." She left as abruptly as she had entered, closing the door behind her.
I sank into the bath, letting the hot water wash away the tension. After shampooing and rinsing, I dried my hair with the dryer, wrapped myself in a towel, and left the bathroom.
In the bedroom, Maria had laid out a set of clothes on the bed. She seated me in front of the dressing mirror, removed the towel from my hair, and handed me a comb to untangle the knots.
After braiding my hair neatly, I asked her to leave. I needed a few quiet moments to myself. Once alone, I dressed in the emerald-green wrap dress with a full-circle skirt, pairing it with low-heel slippers.
Letting me leave my room was probably his way of giving me a false sense of security. He had me in the palm of his hand, and I needed to be careful and patient.
As I stepped out, Maria was waiting, her expression puzzled but watchful.
"Let's go, or you're going to be late," she said.
I nodded and followed her, keeping my thoughts to myself.