Elena smoothed the unfamiliar fabric of the green dress until her fingers ached. The dress was short and daring, it had been chosen for effect, not comfort.
For a moment she simply stared at the reflection in the mirror and felt like a stranger — a frightened little animal made visible.
She forced herself to breathe, then stepped from the room. Two guards waited at the edge of the corridor, their faces unreadable as stone.
Their presence made her spine tighten; they flanked her like sentries as they led her down a hallway lit by low lamps, the carpet muffling her footsteps.
They opened the dining room door and she saw him before she saw anything else — Damian seated at the far end of the long table, the amber light from a chandelier catching the angles of his face.
He lifted a glass slowly, eyes already on her. Around him the room hummed with quiet servants moving like ghosts.
"Come, Cupcake," he said in that casual voice that always sounded like a sentence with sharpened edges. "Have your dinner."
She wanted to tell him no. But words were small against the presence in the room. She obeyed.
She sat opposite him, hands folded in her lap. The dress felt foreign and loud; she kept tucking it with trembling fingers to protect herself. Damian's gaze traveled slow and deliberate, eyeing her curves and posture as if reading a dossier.
The look made heat crawl up her neck. She tugged the hem down again, mortified that the guards' expressions had not changed, that this was apparently part of a carefully arranged spectacle.
"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, low enough that only her heart could hear. Her voice broke, but she forced it to steady. "What do you want from me?"
He watched her a long moment, the clink of his glass the only answer. Then he shrugged, all ease and danger. "You'll know soon," he said. "For now — eat. You're trembling."
She put a fork to her lips, hands shaking. The food tasted better than she would have expected; hunger was a demand that swallowed pride.
Tears blurred the edges of her plate as she ate in small, ashamed bites. The butler hovered like a shadow, refilling the water glass when it emptied, eyes never meeting hers.
After a while, as if bored with the scene, Damian set his glass down and rose. He walked slowly to the head of the table and peered at her. "My butler will show you to my room," he said softly." He spoke the last two words as if naming a simple household chore.
Elena's stomach dropped. "Please," she asked, voice raw, "my aunt—she needs me. She's in the hospital. Please tell me you'll—"
He smiled, a thing not meant to comfort. "I already told you," he said, casual cruelty threading the edge of his tone,
"I need you too Elena"
After her dinner, The butler guided her along a corridor lined with portraits of men with colder eyes than she possessed.
He opened a heavy door and gestured inside.
The room was large and dark, not the cheerful guestroom she had first awakened in — a private study or spare bedroom that smelled faintly of old leather and smoke. Shadows pooled in the corners. For a second she felt naked without the constant glare of company. Then the door closed behind her with a sound like a knell.
She stood there, alone, Her fingers felt clumsy and small. She tried to steady herself, When a door opened, she turned fully and saw him.
He stepped in, with just his towel tied round his waist, she stared at his abs down his line.
"You look… unsettled," he observed, his voice oddly flat. "Does the house frighten you?"
She wanted to tell him to leave, to return to whatever safe ugliness had been her life before, but the words withered. "You kidnapped me," she said instead, each syllable scraping. "You drugged me. You—"
"You signed," he interrupted, not unkind but precise. "And now there are consequences."
"I didn't read it!" she protested. "You told me my aunt would die if I hesitated. I couldn't think. You took advantage—"
"I told you the truth," he said finally. "You were in danger. You had to be saved. I saved you from your landlord. I paid the hospital. The money moved."
She swallowed an ugly mixture of gratitude and shame. "Then let me go," she said, voice cracking. "Please. Just—let me go."
"I thought you were bold Elena Cruz, you stood up to Damian Volkov that night.
Next time, you wouldn't dare interfere in what I do, You won in getting my attention and now I made you my playtoy, so...
"Take off your clothes or I will make your aunty join your parents!
She teared up as she heard his words, please...
Don't piss me off Elena, did you think you just came your to enjoy the lifestyle, you f**King signed a contract to be my playtoy!
Please, I will do as you say but don't hurt my aunt, she's all I have please!