Chapter Four — The Rules of Submission
884 Words
The morning came too soon.
Golden light spilled through the tall windows, but it brought no warmth. The mansion was still—a false calm before a storm I could feel brewing beneath the surface.
My body ached. Not from pain, but from awareness.
From the lingering sensation of Rhys’s hands on my skin.
I pressed my fingers against my lips, remembering the way he had whispered to me in the dark.
"You’re playing with fire."
I exhaled sharply and forced myself to stand.
I wouldn’t let him get to me.
---
The house staff had already prepared breakfast. A lavish spread of fresh fruit, eggs, pastries, and coffee—too much food for one person.
I wasn’t surprised when Rhys was already there, waiting.
He sat at the head of the long mahogany table, sipping black coffee like he wasn’t the devil in human form.
“Sit.” His voice was calm. Expectant. A command dressed as an invitation.
I hesitated.
I should walk away. I should refuse. But I didn’t.
I took the seat across from him, lifting the silverware with careful fingers.
Rhys watched me, his gaze dark and unreadable.
“You slept lightly.”
It wasn’t a question. He knew.
I swallowed my irritation. “Your house creaks.”
His lips twitched. Like he knew I was lying.
Rhys took a slow sip of coffee before setting the cup down with deliberate precision. “You’re adjusting.”
I didn’t answer.
He leaned back in his chair, stretching out like a king surveying his territory.
“Naomi,” he murmured. “It’s time we talked about the rules.”
My stomach tightened. Rules.
Of course.
“Should I fetch a collar to go with them?” I asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Rhys only smirked. “If that’s what you want.”
Heat surged to my face. Bastard.
He watched me for a moment, then spoke. Each word slow. Unshakable.
“You will attend social events with me. No arguments.”
“You will not leave this house without permission.”
“You will not question my decisions.”
“You will not deny me when I call for you.”
The fork slipped from my fingers, clattering against the plate.
I felt the weight of his words, sinking into my skin like a leash tightening around my throat.
“I’m not your pet,” I said, my voice softer than I wanted.
Rhys’s gaze darkened, something dangerous flickering in the depths.
“No,” he murmured. “You’re my possession.”
My pulse spiked.
There was no hesitation in his voice. No doubt. He meant it.
I hated that a part of me shivered at the way he said it.
“Did I stutter, Naomi?”
My fingers curled into fists beneath the table. My pride screamed at me to fight back.
But I wasn’t stupid.
Rhys Evander Kain was not a man you defied without consequences.
So I did what I had always done—I lifted my chin and met his gaze, refusing to break.
“I understand,” I said.
His smirk was slow, wicked. Like he had won.
Like he had always known he would.
---
Hours later, I was still fuming.
The mansion was large—an endless maze of luxury and coldness—but no matter where I wandered, I felt the weight of my captivity.
The doors were locked. The security was tight.
And Rhys’s rules sat heavy on my shoulders.
I ended up in the library.
The shelves were lined with leather-bound books, the scent of old pages lingering in the air.
I ran my fingers over the spines, trying to distract myself.
Trying to ignore the fact that Rhys was winning.
“You look like a woman plotting her escape.”
I whirled.
Rhys stood in the doorway, his silhouette cutting through the dim light.
He had changed into a crisp black shirt, the top buttons undone, his sleeves rolled up.
Effortless. Dangerous. Lethal.
“I’m just reading,” I said.
His eyes flicked to the book in my hands. A book on warfare.
Rhys chuckled, slow and deep. “Of course you are.”
He stepped forward, his presence consuming the space between us.
“I have something for you.”
I frowned. “What?”
Rhys reached into his pocket and pulled out a delicate gold bracelet.
My stomach twisted.
“It’s not just jewelry,” he murmured, taking my wrist and clasping it around my skin. His fingers lingered.
I felt the warmth of them. The control in his touch.
“There’s a tracker inside.”
A sharp inhale left my lips. “You’re serious?”
Rhys smirked.
“Call it insurance,” he murmured.
I yanked my arm away, fury boiling in my veins.
“This is insane.”
“No, sweetheart.” Rhys’s voice was silk and steel. Unshakable. Absolute.
“This is ownership.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I wanted to tear it off. To throw it in his face.
But something about the way he looked at me—possessive. Dark. Knowing.
It made me freeze.
It made me wonder just how far he was willing to go to keep me.
And worse—how much of me wanted to find out.
- Writer
