OWNED BY A BILLIONAIRE

CHAPTER SIX: THE RULES

I woke before dawn.

The room was dark. The fire was dead. But his arm was across my stomach. His breath was warm on my shoulder.

He'd stayed.

All night.

I didn't know why that surprised me. Or why it made my chest ache.

I tried to move. His arm tightened.

"Stay," he murmured. Not awake. Not asleep. Somewhere in between.

"I need to"

"You need to stay."

I lay still.

The ceiling mirror showed us tangled together. His dark hair against my shoulder. My hand resting on his arm. We looked like lovers.

We weren't lovers.

We were a contract.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Then again. Then again.

He didn't move.

"Alexander," I whispered.

"Hmm."

"Your phone."

"Ignore it."

"It won't stop."

He sighed. Rolled away. Grabbed the phone. His eyes scanned the screen. His jaw tightened.

"I have to go," he said.

"Where?"

"Work."

"You work at dawn?"

"I work when I'm needed."

He stood. Walked to the bathroom. The door closed. The shower turned on.

I lay in the bed. Alone. The sheets were cold where he'd been.

He was gone in twenty minutes. Suit. Tie. Briefcase. The same cold expression he wore in the auction.

"I'll be back tonight," he said at the door.

"I don't care."

"Liar."

He left.

I sat up. Stared at the closed door.

Carmen appeared an hour later. Silent. Carrying a tray.

"Breakfast," she said.

"I'm not hungry."

"You said that yesterday. You ate anyway."

She set the tray on the bed. Eggs. Toast. Fruit. Coffee.

"Eat," she said. "Then dress. Mr. Black left instructions for your day."

"What instructions?"

"He wants you to learn the house. Every room. Every exit. Every rule."

"What rules?"

Carmen handed me a piece of paper. Black. Gold edges. His handwriting.

Rule 1: You will not leave the house without permission.

Rule 2: You will not use your phone.

Rule 3: You will not speak to anyone outside this house.

Rule 4: You will eat what you are given.

Rule 5: You will wear what I provide.

Rule 6: You will sleep in my bed every night.

Rule 7: You will not touch yourself without my permission.

My face burned.

Rule 8: You will not lie to me.

Rule 9: You will not pretend you feel nothing.

Rule 10: You will learn to want this.

I'm not following these rules," I said.

Carmen didn't look up. "You don't have a choice."

"Everyone has a choice."

"Not in this house." She walked to the closet. Pulled out a dress. Black. Short. "Wear this."

"I want my own clothes."

"You don't have your own clothes. Mr. Black disposed of them."

"He what?"

"The day you arrived. He had someone collect everything from your apartment." Carmen held out the dress. "You belong to him now. Even your clothes belong to him."

I took the dress. My hands were shaking.

"My apartment," I said. "My things. My life."

"Gone."

"You're telling me I have nothing left?"

Carmen's eyes softened. Just a little. "You have your father. He's alive. He's recovering. The surgery was successful."

The words hit me like a wave.

"The surgery," I said. "When?"

"Yesterday morning. While you were sleeping." Carmen paused. "Mr. Black didn't tell you?"

"No."

"He paid for the best surgeon in Spain. Your father is awake. He's asking for you."

Tears burned my eyes.

"Can I see him?"

Carmen shook her head. "Rule one. You cannot leave the house."

"Then bring him here."

"Your father doesn't know where you are. He thinks you're working. He thinks you're safe." Carmen's voice dropped. "Mr. Black wants it that way."

"Why?"

"Because if your father knew the truth, he would refuse the surgery. He would rather die than let you do this." Carmen turned away. "Get dressed. Your first lesson starts in an hour."

The first lesson was in the library.

I'd never been in the library before. Three floors of books. Ladders on wheels. A fireplace big enough to stand inside.

Alexander was waiting for me.

He sat in a leather chair by the fire. A book in his hands. He didn't look up when I walked in.

"Sit," he said.

I sat across from him.

"Do you know why I bought you?" he asked.

"For my father's surgery."

"No. I bought you because you're intelligent. Curious. Stubborn." He turned a page. "Women like you don't break easily. That's what makes it interesting."

"I'm not a project."

"Everyone is a project." He set down the book. Looked at me. "Today's lesson is obedience."

"I know how to obey."

"No. You know how to resist. Obedience is different."

He reached into his jacket. Pulled out a small box. Black velvet. He set it on the table between us.

"Open it," he said.

I opened it.

A collar.

Black leather. Silver rings. Small. Delicate. Beautiful.

"No," I said.

"Yes."

"I'm not wearing that."

"You will."

"I'm not a dog."

"No." He stood. Walked to me. Took the collar from the box. "You're mine. And I want the world to know it."

His hands reached for my neck. I flinched.

"Stay still," he said softly.

"I can't."

"You can."

The leather touched my skin. Cold. Soft. He wrapped it around my throat. Buckled it at the back.

"Perfect," he whispered.

I touched the collar. My fingers traced the leather. The rings.

"How do I take it off?" I asked.

"You don't."

"Alexander"

"The key is in my safe. You will not touch it. You will not ask for it. You will wear this until I decide otherwise."

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear it off and throw it in the fire.

Instead, I sat there. Silent. His hands still on my shoulders.

"Look at me," he said.

I looked.

"You're beautiful like this," he said. "Collared. Owned. Mine."

"I'm not yours."

"Your body says otherwise." His thumb traced the collar. "Your neck says otherwise. Your heart says otherwise."

"My heart doesn't know you."

"Your heart knows exactly who I am." He leaned closer. His lips brushed my ear. "I'm the man who saved your father. I'm the man who owns your body. And eventually, Ava..." His breath was hot on my skin. "I'll be the man who owns your heart."

"Never."

"We'll see."

He kissed me.

Not gently. Not softly. His mouth claimed mine like he was proving a point.

I kissed him back.

I hated myself for it.

His hands were in my hair. His body was pressed against mine. The collar was tight around my throat.

He pulled back. Looked at me.

"Say my name," he said.

"Alexander."

"Again."

"Alexander."

"Again."

"Alexander."

He smiled. "Good girl."

"Don't call me that."

"Why? Because it makes you wet?"

My face burned.

"You're blushing," he said. "After everything we've done. After everything I've put inside you. You're still blushing."

"You're terrible."

"I'm honest." His hand slid down my stomach. Stopped between my legs. "You're already wet. I can feel it through the dress."

"Alexander"

"Shh." His fingers pressed against the fabric. Circled. Pressed again. "I'm not going to take you. Not yet."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Reminding you." He pushed the fabric aside. His fingers touched my skin. "Reminding you who you belong to."

I moaned.

"That's right," he murmured. "Say my name again."

"Alexander."

"Louder."

"Alexander."

His fingers moved inside me. Slow. Deliberate. I grabbed his shoulders. Held on.

"You're close," he said.

"Yes."

"Not yet."

"Please."

"Beg."

"I already begged."

"Beg again."

"Please, Alexander. Please."

He pushed deeper. Faster. My head fell back. The collar pressed against my throat.

"Look at me," he said.

I looked.

"Come for me," he said.

I shattered.

His name was on my lips. His hands were on my body. His eyes were on my face.

He watched me fall apart.

Then he pulled his hand away. Licked his fingers. Smiled.

"Lesson one," he said. "Complete."

He stood. Straightened his clothes. Walked to the door.

"Alexander," I called.

He stopped. Didn't turn.

"Tonight," I said, "will you stay?"

A long silence.

"Yes," he said.

Then he was gone.

I sat in the chair. The fire crackled. The collar was tight around my throat.

And for the first time, I wasn't sure if I wanted to run.