Chapter Three
729 Words
Maddie's Pov
The mansion loomed before me, an imposing structure of marble and glass.
It was beautiful in a cold, untouchable way—like something carved from stone and steel rather than built for people to live in.
The grand doors opened without a sound, revealing an entryway that was more luxurious than anything I had seen in years. A chandelier, massive and dripping with crystals, hung high above the glossy marble floors. The walls were lined with expensive art, the kind I had once studied when I was young enough to dream of having a future.
I felt like a ghost walking through a place I didn’t belong.
Damien didn’t say a word as he led me deeper inside.
I followed, my heels clicking softly against the floor, the only sound in the vast emptiness of the mansion.
The house smelled of expensive cologne and fresh linen. It was too pristine, too perfect—like no one really lived here.
We reached the grand staircase. The railings were polished black iron, curling into elegant swirls, the steps a deep mahogany. Damien climbed without hesitation, his strides controlled, powerful.
I hesitated only for a moment before following.
The further up we went, the tighter my chest became.
This was it.
The moment I had been dreading.
Damien stopped in front of a door at the end of a long hallway. He pushed it open without looking back.
I stepped inside after him.
It was a bedroom, but calling it that felt like an understatement. The space was massive, the walls painted a deep charcoal, the furniture sleek and modern. A fireplace crackled in the corner, casting soft shadows along the walls.
A bed, larger than any I had ever seen, sat in the center of the room, draped in silk sheets.
I swallowed hard.
Damien walked to the center of the room, his movements effortless, like a predator at ease in his domain.
The air shifted.
He loosened his tie, the sound of fabric sliding against fabric unnervingly loud in the quiet room.
I turned my gaze away.
I shouldn’t be embarrassed. I had been in this position before, with men who saw me as nothing more than a body to claim. But something about Damien—his presence, his silence—made my skin crawl with unease.
I heard more movement. The soft rustle of a jacket being discarded. The sharp click of cufflinks being removed.
Then a voice, low and firm.
“Take off your clothes.”
I flinched.
His words weren’t cruel. They weren’t soft, either. Just a simple command, like it was a matter of fact. Like I was a thing to be used.
I didn’t move right away.
“Did you not hear me?”
I took a breath, willing my body to obey. My fingers trembled as they reached for the thin fabric clinging to me. I pulled it over my head and let it slip from my fingers, pooling at my feet.
I stood there, bare, vulnerable, exposed.
Damien’s gaze swept over me. There was no lust in his eyes, no hunger—just a cold, assessing look, as if he were inspecting something he had purchased.
Because that’s exactly what I was.
“Since I can’t get a refund,” he murmured, stepping closer, “you had better be worth the money.”
Something inside me cracked.
Not because of what he said, but because a tiny, foolish part of me had expected more.
Expected what, exactly? Kindness?
I should have known better.
I forced my body to relax, to shut out the part of my brain that wanted to resist. This wasn’t new. This wasn’t different.
Survival. That’s all that mattered.
I let him take what he wanted.
I didn’t make a sound.
Didn’t react.
Didn’t let myself feel.
Because feeling meant breaking.
When it was over, Damien shifted beside me, his breathing even, unaffected. He reached for something on the nightstand, and I stared at the ceiling, empty.
Then his voice cut through the silence.
“You’ll be treated well here,” he said. “You’ll have everything you need.”
He turned his head toward me, his gaze sharp, unreadable.
“But don’t forget,” he continued, his voice quiet, final. “You belong to me now.”
His possession.
I said nothing.
I simply closed my eyes.
- Writer
