I didn’t know his name. Not yet.
All I knew was that he smelled like danger and stared like he already owned me.
“Strip.”
That was the first word he said to me when I was brought into the mansion and shoved into his bedroom. No greeting. No soft voice. Just raw command.
I froze—bare feet sinking into the velvet carpet, hands trembling as my father’s voice echoed in my head.
“He owns you now. If you fight, he’ll kill you. If you run, he’ll find you.”
And I believed it. Because the man standing in front of me didn’t look like someone who gave warnings. He looked like someone who gave orders… and punished you for hesitating.
“I said, strip,” he growled deeper, stepping closer. “Unless you want me to do it for you.”
My lips parted, heart pounding like a trapped bird inside my chest. Bu
