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Elizabeth stirred awake in the dim light of her bedroom, the remnants of a restless night clinging to her. The chaotic strands of her hair mirrored her exhaustion, a testament to the demands of her life. With a heavy sigh, she pushed herself out of bed and prepared for what felt like an uphill battle — her class and the impending test.
As she entered the lecture hall, she caught a glance from Lee, a classmate whose eyes held a mix of curiosity and judgment. “Is it the RP test that’s bothering you?” he asked, his voice lowered to avoid disrupting the class.
“No," she replied with a weak smile that didn’t reach her weary eyes. “I’m just tired.”
Lee nodded, though uncertainty clouded his expression. The concern in his gaze was apparent, and Elizabeth felt the pressure of his scrutiny.
“Can I ask you something?” she ventured, locking her eyes onto his.
“Of course.”
She took a deep breath, weighing her words carefully. “If a girl like me meets a man—maybe a mafia type—and ends up in debt, trying to balance her work life while working for him, is it possible?”
Lee’s brows furrowed as he considered her question. “Well, if she’s serious about her studies, that could definitely affect her,” he mused. “But are you that girl?”
His question struck her like ice water, and she fought to keep her expression neutral. “No, no, no,” she laughed lightly, brushing it off. “I was thinking more about a friend in that position.”
His response was grave. “Well, tell your friend that the only way out is to work for him. Mafia men and business tycoons don’t play with their money.” His tone felt more like a warning than a suggestion, and Elizabeth’s heart sank.
“I will,” she whispered, turning her attention back to the instructor, the chilling realization sinking in that her own fate was tied to this dangerous world.
--
Later that evening, Elizabeth arrived at Martin’s mansion, choosing a taxi over the usual SUV that would pick her up. She entered the expansive foyer and was greeted by Marah, a young maid with a bright smile.
“Welcome, Ma! Did you not take the SUV?”
“Please, call me Lizzy,” Elizabeth replied, waving a hand dismissively. “I ran some errands and thought I’d save the driver the trouble.”
Marah’s brow furrowed slightly. “Just so you know, Sir Martin isn’t happy about that. He’s been in a mood today—something about bad deals.”
As Elizabeth climbed the stairs, a guard ushered her toward Martin’s study. The door swung open, revealing a breathtaking woman in a sparkling black gown, her presence commanding as she assessed Elizabeth with contempt before storming out.
“Just wait for him; he’ll be here soon,” said the guard, his voice low.
Moments later, Martin entered—casual in black sweatpants and a fitted white tank top that accentuated his toned physique. Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat as she found herself entranced. There was something about him; an electric energy that tightened the air between them.
“You said you’d come late, and I agreed,” he began, his voice deep and slightly annoyed. “But you didn’t mention taking a cab. Do you know how worried I was?”
He stepped closer, backing her against the wall. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, enveloping her in an intoxicating warmth. “Your body, your whereabouts—they belong to me. You owe me, and until you repay every last detail, you have no right to do as you wish. Understood?”
His burning gaze made her pulse quicken. “Y-yes, sir,” she stammered, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.
“Good girl.”
He returned to his desk, leaving a lingering heat in the air. “Tomorrow, I have a charity gala, and you’ll be accompanying me. Be here by 4 PM for my tailor to take your measurements. The event starts at 11 PM.”
“Okay, sir,” she replied quietly.
“Correct yourself,” he ordered.
“Okay, Martin,” she corrected, feeling flustered.
As they sat in tense silence, punctuated only by his occasional cough, she mustered the courage to ask, “Are you not feeling well?”
“It’s just a minor cold. It’ll pass by morning.”
“That’s not how it works,” she replied, her tone softening. “I can’t let you fall sick.” She stood, crossing the room to his side. “Let me take you to your room. I’ll ask Marah to get you some medicine.”
Martin looked up, a hint of a smile breaking through his stern demeanor. “Okay, ma.” His tone was playful, almost charming.
After a long hour, Martin feigned sleep as she left in the SUV, the driver navigating the streets with ease. He watched from the window, heart twisted with longing.
“Sir, should I arrange the car for another trip tomorrow—” his secretary began, rushing in.
“Sick?” Martin interrupted, a smirk spreading across his face. “Don’t you realize when a man is desperately in need of his woman’s attention? I’m not sick; I just need her close.” He pulled out a photo of Elizabeth, his heart swelling with a possessive longing.
The game was on; he would have her within his world, whether she liked it or not.
"You can go now." As the secretary left, he lay on his king-sized bed and said to himself, "One day your body will be here with me every single day."
- Writer
