Celine's POV
Memories of what brought me to this point flashed back bits by bits, and I started having a mini migraine episode.
I tried lifting my hands, but they were stuck. I looked at my wrist and realized that it was chained to the metallic chair where I sat.
I shook the chair violently as if the violent movement could suddenly perform a miracle.
I turned my back, and my eyes met the two guards positioned to look after my cell. Was this going to be my fate?
"Where is this place?" I muttered to myself.
Suddenly, the door burst open and two men in suits came in like robots. They untied me and dragged me.
"Where are you taking me to?" I protested.
But they paid me deaf ears to, in fact, they acted like I was non-existent.
They pulled me along the long corridors and into a dark room. As soon as we got in, the light came up, and there was a man seated at the far end of the room, with his back to us.
"Sit her down," he commanded. And just like robots, they obliged.
"Now you can leave us alone," he said, finally turning in his seat to face me, his amber eyes studying me carefully.
It felt like he was undressing me just with his eyes. I felt bare all of a sudden in front of him.
"You are Mr Klein's only daughter, right?" he asked, a devious grin appearing on his face.
"I'm not his daughter," I spat, "Please let me go, I'm not his daughter."
"If you aren't his daughter, I couldn't care less. You are a fair one," he said, standing up from his chair.
His tall frame, towering above me as he studied me again, before taking a seat on the part of the table that once demarcated us, closest to me.
"You are just the fit. Mr Klein sure knows what I like; if not, he would have had his and his family's head on a spike," he said, gritting his jaw.
"Let me go, please. I can't stay here," I protested, hoping my pleas would not fall on deaf ears, but just as usual, it did.
He looked me over like I was his next meal, gulping hard so that I could see his Adam's apple move. He took my face in his hands.
"You are mine, a collateral for the many debts Mr Klein owes me, so you have to live with it now," he said, locking his gaze on mine.
I shivered at the thought of it. He moved his hands to my lips, tracing my lips with his thumb, and I reflexively bit it.
"I'm not yours, and I can never in a million years be yours," I blurted before I could stop myself, tears rolling from my eyes.
He could be a far worse demon than Mr Klein was; my worst fear had come to pass.
He chuckled wickedly, turning to face me with a smirk that gradually gave way to a cold expression, rage evident in his eyes.
He gritted his jaw, studying me again. "You seem too hot to handle, feisty, huh? I like it," he said, massaging his thumb.
"You were never told who I was, right. Maybe staying with me for a while will teach you who I really am," he said, coldly, never compromising his composure.
He brought his hands to my face, forcefully lifting it, so that my eyes met his as if daring to try what I had just done before.
I flinched a little as his face got closer to mine, and I gradually tried to avoid his gaze. A long silence ensued between us as my heart hammered against my chest.
He clicked his fingers, signalling the guards to come over.
My hands were still tied; if not, I would have loved to give him a dirty slap. I wouldn't tolerate another man, no matter how strong he was, treating me the way Mr Klein had treated me.
"Take her away," he commanded and just like that, they lifted me again, my hands still bound and carried me out of the room.
I protested, but my movements were just insignificant.
"Where are you taking me to? You know I don't deserve to die for Mr Klein," I screamed.
"We are taking you to the place you are going to be staying, henceforth," one of the men carrying me spoke up for the first time.
As soon as they got to the room, they dropped me on the bed, untied me and walked out of the door, closing the door right after that.
I hurried off after them, hoping to run out with them, but they were faster than I had expected. I banged on the door, but no one heard me. It seemed as if the walls were soundproof.
I slid down to the floor, crying myself till I dozed off a little.
A knock woke me up from my little slumber. I opened the door to see who was behind it. A middle-aged, average-height woman looked back at me.
She pushed the door aside and walked in, some clothes in her hands.
"What do you want from me?" I asked all defensively. She seemed like Mrs Klein, who came to wipe my tears after being abused by her husband.
But never for one day had she stood up to her husband against the treatment I was receiving from him.
"Come sit down, my child," she said, exhaling a little bit. "You wouldn't survive Mr Cassian's hands by crying all day and getting defensive with everyone around the house."
Mr Cassian, so that is his name.
"How old are you?" she asked, her smile never wavering. "I'm nineteen years old," I replied firmly.
"If you need help anytime, I'm here anytime. I have been Mr Cassian's nanny since he was 12," she said, winking at me.
I wondered what was funny about this whole situation.
"Now hurry up, and freshen up, put on this dress, you are going to meet Mr Cassian tonight in his bedroom," she said without mincing words.
"In his bedroom? Why?" I asked, a shiver running down my spine at the thought of being in the same room as him.