Bound to the Ruthless Billionaire

Chapter 13: The Alpha’s Fury

The morning after the shower was a study in suffocating tension. Claire stood before the vanity mirror in the master ensuite, her fingers trembling as she adjusted the high collar of her cream silk blouse. She turned her head, checking the angle. There it was, a faint, stinging red mark on the curve of her shoulder where Dominic had bitten her in the steam.

It was a brand. A silent, physical reminder that while they hadn't crossed the final line, she was no longer her own.

She walked into the dining area, her heart hammering. Dominic was already there, looking impossibly refreshed in a charcoal-grey suit that screamed power. He was drinking black coffee and reading a financial report on his tablet, the "Shark" fully restored to his natural habitat. He didn't look up as she sat down, but the air in the room shifted, turning heavy and charged.

"You’re wearing a high collar," he remarked, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that made the mark on her shoulder throb. "It’s a bit warm for silk turtlenecks, isn't it, Claire?"

"I felt a chill," she lied, her voice thin. She reached for the teapot, her hand shaking just enough to make the china rattle.

Dominic finally looked up. His eyes didn't go to her face; they went straight to the fabric covering the spot where he had claimed her. A slow, predatory smile touched his lips, the smile of a man who knew exactly what he was looking at.

"A chill," he repeated, his tone mocking. "Or perhaps you’re just realising that the Sterling grace isn't enough to hide what you’ve become."

Before she could snap back, Claire’s phone, resting on the marble table, buzzed. The screen lit up with a notification.

Julian Vane: I’m worried about you, Claire. I saw how he treated you at the gala. Meet me for lunch? I can help you get out.

The silence that followed was instantaneous and lethal.

Claire reached for the phone, her heart stopping, but she wasn't fast enough. Dominic’s hand shot across the table, his fingers pinning the device to the marble before she could touch it. He didn't pick it up. He simply stared at the message, his jaw tightening until the bone looked like it might break through his skin.

The atmosphere didn't just turn cold; it turned violent.

"Help you get out?" Dominic’s voice was so quiet it was terrifying. He slowly raised his gaze to hers, his eyes shards of dark obsidian. "Is that what you were doing while I was marking you in the shower? Planning your escape with the Earl’s pathetic son?"

"I haven't even replied to him!" Claire gasped, her pride finally surging. "He’s just an old friend, Dominic. He’s worried because you acted like a madman at the gala!"

Dominic stood up, the movement so sudden his chair skidded back with a harsh, metallic scream. He didn't walk around the table; he stalked. He rounded the corner and hauled Claire out of her seat, his hand winding into her hair to force her head back.

"He’s not a friend, Claire. He’s a man who wants what belongs to me," Dominic roared, his face inches from hers. "And if I ever see his name on your screen again, I will ruin his family’s estate until they’re living in the very gutter I crawled out of. Do you understand me?"

"You're obsessed!" she shouted, her hands pushing against his chest. "You can't control who talks to me! I am a person, not a Thorne Industries subsidiary!"

Dominic’s grip tightened, his thumb pressing into her jaw with a possessive force. "In this house, you are mine. Every word you speak, every breath you take, and every pathetic 'friend' you think you have is subject to my approval."

He snatched her phone from the table and, with a terrifying display of raw strength, crushed it in his fist. The screen shattered, the electronics sparking before the device went dark. He tossed the ruined metal onto the table like it was trash.

"You want to talk to Julian?" he rasped, his scent of bergamot and rage wrapping around her. "Then you can tell him from the hospital bed he’ll be occupying. Because if he comes near you again, I won't just mark you, Claire. I’ll destroy him."

He didn't give her a chance to breathe. He hauled her against his chest, his body a wall of iron. "I told you I don't do marriages on paper. And I don't share. If you ever look for a way 'out' again, I’ll make sure the only place you have to go is into the dark with me."

Claire was shaking, her body reacting to his fury with a terrifying mixture of fear and a rising, shameful heat. She hated his control, yet the raw, primal intensity of his jealousy was more honest than anything she had ever felt in her "Old Money" world.

"You're a monster," she whispered, her eyes searching his.

"I'm your monster," he corrected, his voice dropping to a dangerous, intimate register. "And don't you forget it."

He didn't kiss her. Instead, he reached down and gripped the collar of her blouse, his fingers grazing the mark on her shoulder. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over her ear, his breath hot and erratic.

"Rule number four, Claire," he commanded. "You don't touch another man. You don't speak to another man. And you certainly don't let one think he can save you. Because the only person who can save you now... is me. And I’m not feeling particularly merciful today."

He pulled back, his eyes sweeping over her ruined hair and trembling lips with a look of dark, triumphant victory. He checked his watch, the movement clinical and cold once more.

"I have a meeting at the office. You will stay here. The doors are locked, and the security team has instructions. You aren't leaving this penthouse until I decide you’ve learned who you belong to."

Dominic didn't wait for her to respond. He turned and marched toward the private lift, his silhouette powerful and lethal. But as the doors began to slide shut, he paused. He looked back at her, his eyes burning with a possessive fire that made her knees buckle.

"And Claire?" he rasped, his voice echoing in the vast, silent room. "Don't bother looking for a new phone. From now on, the only person you're allowed to talk to is the man standing in front of you. I’m taking everything else away until there’s nothing left in your world but me."

The lift doors hissed shut, and the heavy electronic lock engaged with a sound like a gunshot in the silent room. Claire stood frozen, her fingers rising to the burning mark on her neck as she stared at the shattered remains of her phone, her last link to freedom.

She wasn't just a wife. She was a captive.

She looked at the digital lock on the door, the red light glowing like a predatory eye, and realised with a jolt of terror that she wasn't looking for a way out anymore. She was counting the seconds until he came back to claim the rest of her.