ANYA'S POV
The car glided through the rain-slicked city streets, the rumble of its engine a constant, low thrum.
This was not the part of the city I knew.
Everything felt taller, colder, more impersonal.
It passed through iron gates without any stopping. After what felt like an eternity, the car slowed, turning off the main thoroughfare.
Guards bowed the moment they saw the crest on the door. The gates, discreet and unmarked, slid open silently, revealing a private drive lined with manicured, dark foliage.
High walls, almost fortress-like, receded into the night. Tall walls surrounded the mansion. Lanterns lined the pathway like quiet sentinels in the dark.
The car halted beneath a covered entrance smoothly. The mansion itself rose from the shadows in pale stone, its architecture severe and elegant at once.
Not extravagant.
Not gaudy.
Controlled.
Like its owner.
Before I could react, the heavy door opened.
"Sir," the servant said, bowing.
The Kingpin stepped out, not glancing back, not offering a hand.
I stepped down carefully. My legs were still unsteady from being bound for so long. The absence of iron around my ankles felt strange, too light, too easy.
The Kingpin was already out, standing beside the car, his form a dark silhouette against the faintly lit façade of the building. His gaze swept over me once more, a quick, proprietary assessment.
"Welcome," he said, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet night,
"...to your new home."
My stomach clenched, but I refused to let it show. Home. The word felt like a mockery.
Servants lined both sides of the grand entrance hall when we entered.
All bowed.
Not to me.
To him.
The Kingpin removed his gloves slowly as he walked. His presence alone altered the air around us. No one spoke unless spoken to.
No one moved unnecessarily. Power lived here fully. And it obeyed him completely.
He stopped in the center of the grand hall. The Kingpin finally turned toward me.
Up close, without the chaos of the auction, I saw him more clearly.
He had removed his mask. Sharp features. Strong jaw. Dark eyes that revealed nothing.
He looked younger than most of the men who had bid on me. Late thirty. Early forty, perhaps. Not old. Not fragile. Not soft.
"You will be examined again," he said evenly.
My stomach tightened sharply.
"My virginity?" I asked, my voice dangerously steady.
"I do not trust other men's assessments fully."
The words were cold. Possessive. Not lustful. Clinical.
I forced my expression to remain steady.
"And if I refuse entirely?"
The air in the hall shifted slightly. Servants froze immediately.
The Kingpin studied me for a long, deliberate moment.
"You misunderstand your position completely."
His tone did not rise. It didn't need to.
"You are here because I chose it."
A pause.
"Do not confuse that with equality."
The reminder was deliberate. Clear.
I swallowed carefully.
"I won't fight the examination," I said steadily, "and I am sure I'm still a virgin."
His gaze lingered on my face, searching for defiance.
He found it. But not rebellion. That seemed to satisfy him, for now.
He turned to the servant.
"She will require fresh clothes," the Kingpin instructed one of the attendants, who materialized from the shadows.
"Appropriate for the household. And something to eat."
I blinked slightly. Fed. As if that small detail mattered.
Then he added:
"She will not be harmed."
The words were directed at the servants. But his eyes remained on me. And something about that unsettled me far more than cruelty would have.
He didn't look at me as he gave these commands. It was as if I were a package being delivered, my needs functional, not personal. The attendant nodded, then gestured for me to follow.
I glanced back at the Kingpin. He was walking away, toward a bank of elevators, his broad back straight, his presence radiating an undeniable authority.
He hadn't waited for my reaction, hadn't offered further explanation. Just a pronouncement.
The attendant, a woman with sharp, intelligent eyes and a crisp uniform, led me down a long, silent corridor.
My bare feet still felt alien on the cold marble. The silence was unnerving. There were no sounds of life, no distant music, no clatter of dishes. Only the soft padding of our steps.
We arrived at a suite. It was spacious, with a king-sized bed, a sitting area, and a large bathroom tiled in dark, gleaming stone.
A floor-to-ceiling window overlooked a dizzying view of the city skyline, glittering like scattered diamonds. It was beautiful, undeniably. But it felt more like a display than a dwelling.
"The bathroom is through there," the attendant said, her voice neutral.
"Fresh clothes will be brought shortly. If you require anything else, use the comm panel by the bed."
She pointed to a sleek, minimalist device.
"What... what am I supposed to do here?"
I asked, the question escaping me before I could censor it.
The attendant paused at the door, her expression unreadable.
"You are to await the Kingpin's instructions," she said.
"And do nothing to displease him."
With that, she exited, and the door hissed shut with a soft, final click.
My room was not a bad. It was not lavish either. Large bed. Clean linens. A bathing area separated by carved screens.
Windows high enough to prevent easy escape. Calculated comfort.
Two maids entered after I was left alone briefly. They bowed politely.
"Please, mam," one said softly.
"We must assist you."
Assist. Not restrain. That difference mattered greatly.
The examination was thorough but professional. No cruelty. No humiliation beyond necessity.
When it ended, one maid whispered almost apologetically, "It is confirmed."
I looked away. I already knew.
After bathing, I was dressed in a simple dress, soft but modest. No chains returned to my ankles. That did not mean I was free.
When I was escorted back downstairs, the Kingpin waited silently in a private study.
Tall shelves of books lined the walls. A desk sat near the window. Firelight flickered softly against the dark wood.
He did not rise when I entered.
"Sit," he said simply.
I hesitated only a second before obeying. He watched the way I moved.
"You did not react like the others."
I met his gaze steadily.
"And how do the others react?"
"They beg."
A pause.
"They cry."
Another.
"They promise obedience."
Silence stretched heavily.
"And you?" he asked.
I considered my answer carefully.
"I plan," I said deliberately.
The corner of his mouth twitched faintly. Not a smile. Almost one.
"Good," he said simply.
The word surprised me.
"You purchased me for planning?" I asked cautiously.
He leaned back slightly.
"I purchased you because every man in that room wanted you for the same reason."
His gaze hardened. "I do not enjoy sharing."
The possessiveness was blunt. But not heated. Strategic.
"You could have let one of them win," I said quietly.
"And retrieve you later?"
He shook his head once firmly.
"I do not retrieve damaged goods."
The bluntness struck me harder than cruelty would have.
So that was it. He hadn't saved me. He had prevented deterioration.
Silence thickened between us.
"You will remain in this mansion."
Another fact.
"You will not attempt escape."
Another expectation.
"And if I do?"
His gaze cooled sharply.
"You will fail."
The certainty in his voice made me believe it. Not because he was arrogant. But because he had already calculated the outcome completely.
He rose slowly from his chair. Even standing, he did not crowd me. Did not touch me.
"You are not here for my bed."
The statement startled me.
"Then why am I here?"
A pause. Something unreadable passed through his eyes.
"Because I require something unspoiled."
The word felt like a brand. Not a compliment, but a requirement for a machine he was building. I watched him walk toward the window, his shadow stretching across the expensive rug, and for the first time, I realized the chains hadn't been removed. They had just been made invisible. Not sexual. Political. Strategic.
"You will learn soon enough."
He stepped closer then, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his presence. Not touching. But near.
"If you attempt to deceive me," he said quietly, "I will know."
His gaze held mine firmly.
"And if you attempt to use me?" I asked before I could stop myself.
A dangerous question. The room felt suddenly smaller.
Instead of anger, He looked intrigued.
"That would require influence."
A faint pause.
"Earn it."
He stepped back. The space between us returned.
"You will dine tomorrow."
With that, he dismissed me silently. As I was escorted back to my chamber, my thoughts raced quickly.
He had not touched me. Had not threatened me directly. Had not treated me gently either. I was not safe.
But I was not in immediate danger. And that uncertainty was more terrifying than brutality.
Because brutality was simple. This.This was strategy.
I stopped at the doorway of my room and glanced back down the corridor.
The Kingpin stood at the far end, speaking quietly with a guard.
Even from this distance, his presence commanded silence.
He had purchased me for a reason. Not desire. Not impulse. Purpose. And until I understood that purpose. I would remain in a different kind of cage.
The door closed behind me. For the first time since waking in chains. I lay down in a real bed. Soft mattress. Warm blankets. No iron around my ankles.
But sleep did not come easily. Because somewhere in this mansion. A man who had doubled my price without hesitation. Was already deciding exactly what I would become.
CHAPTER 3 END