BOUND BY DESIRE

Chapter 3 – A Cage of Luxury

Elena woke up to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. For a brief moment, she forgot where she was. The bed beneath her was too soft, the silk sheets too smooth—nothing like the worn mattress she was used to at home.

Then reality hit.

Damon Blackwell. The deal. The penthouse.

A heavy weight settled on her chest as she sat up. She wasn’t there by choice. She was there because she had no other option. Because she had bargained away two and a half years of her life to keep her brother safe.

A soft knock at the door made her stiffen. Before she could answer, the door swung open.

Damon.

He stood in the doorway, impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit, his presence filling the room with an unspoken authority. His gaze swept over her, taking in her disheveled state.

"Get dressed," he said smoothly. "We have somewhere to be."

Elena’s brows furrowed. "Where?"

His lips curved, but there was no warmth in his smirk. "You’ll see."

She wanted to argue, to demand answers, but she knew it would be pointless. Damon wasn’t the kind of man who explains himself.

Instead, she rose from the bed, ignoring the way his gaze lingered on her for a fraction too long.

---

The car ride was silent. The tension between them was thick, a battle neither of them acknowledged but both of them felt.

Elena kept her arms crossed, staring out the window at the towering buildings flashing by.

Damon, however, was unreadable, his focus locked on something unseen as he sat beside her, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest.

The car slowed in front of an elegant boutique, its golden-lettered name gleaming under the morning sun.

Elena frowned. "What is this?"

Damon didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped out of the car, his presence commanding enough that the boutique’s staff immediately scrambled to attention.

A woman in a sleek black dress greeted him with a professional smile. "Mr. Blackwell, we’ve prepared everything as requested."

Requested?

Elena’s stomach twisted.

Damon turned to her, gesturing toward the store. "Go inside. Pick whatever you like."

Her spine stiffened. "I don’t need—"

"Need?" He let out a low chuckle. "You may not, but you will. You’ll be accompanying me to events, and I won’t have you dressed like some lost girl from the slums."

Heat flared in Elena’s chest, equal parts anger and humiliation.

"You think throwing expensive clothes at me will change anything?" she bit out.

Damon stepped closer, his voice dropping just low enough to make her breath hitch. "No, Elena. Clothes don’t change who you are. But they do remind you who owns you."

Her pulse pounded.

He was toying with her. Testing her.

Fine.

If he wanted a reaction, she wouldn’t give him one.

Lifting her chin, she stepped into the boutique, ignoring the smug look in his eyes.

She may be trapped in his world, but that didn't mean she had to break.

Not yet.

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