HIS

Chapter Four

Next Morning

Sunlight filtered into the room in thin, golden streams, spilling across Abigail's skin like a gentle caress. She stirred with a soft groan, lashes fluttering open to the endless expanse of a pure-white ceiling.

"Where am I?" The question left her in a hushed, disoriented whisper.

"In your room, Mistress."

Her head turned quickly. Frances, one of the maids, stood by the bed with her hands clasped, a polite smile on her lips.

Abigail pushed herself upright. The sharp movement stirred yesterday’s memories—his voice, his grip, the way the world had changed in a blink.

"Good morning, Mistress," Frances said gently. "Your bath is ready."

Abigail said nothing, but followed.

After bathing, they dressed her in a white floral gown so delicate it made her skin seem even softer, her features almost angelic. Too elegant. Too fragile.

She stared at herself in the mirror and felt… exposed.

"I’m not wearing this," she said, rising from the chair.

Frances and Lily exchanged a look. "The Master picked it himself and said you must wear it."

"Well, f**k your Master."

The door opened before they could respond.

Rafael stepped inside. The air shifted instantly. He was dressed entirely in black, his rolled-up sleeves exposing muscular, veined forearms. Fitted trousers and heavy boots completed the look. His hair was slightly disheveled, like he’d just run a hand through it on his way here.

Her chest tightened before she could stop it.

His grey eyes swept over her, slow and deliberate, before locking on her face. A slow, deliberate smile touched his lips

"Like what you see, Tesoro?"

The smirk, the quiet confidence—it made her pulse stumble. She yanked her gaze away, realizing they were suddenly alone.

"Y-you wish."

His chuckle was low and warm, like smoke curling through the air. The sound brushed against her nerves, making a chill run up her spine.

"Do you not like the dress?"

"It’s not my style."

"I’ll have them change it. What else?"

His calmness unsettled her. "The whole room isn’t my style."

"I’ll have it renovated. Anything else?"

"I want to leave."

The softness vanished from his face. He took a slow step forward. She retreated until the cold wall met her back.

He braced his arms on either side of her, his scent—dark, expensive, faintly smoky—filling her head. "You are never leaving me, Tesoro."

Her voice wavered despite her effort. "I—I don’t want to—"

He bent, his lips brushing the side of her neck. The contact was light, almost testing, but her breath caught anyway. Heat pooled low in her stomach, shame tangled with something far more dangerous.

His fingers caught her chin, tilting her face up until she was trapped by his gaze.

"You’re not leaving me. Ever."

"I don’t belong to you."

"Yes, you do." His eyes flicked to her lips, lingering. "Your lips, hair, eyes, nose—every f*****g part of you belongs to me."

"You’re insane."

That smirk again—half threat, half temptation. "You wouldn’t be the first to say that. Nor the last."

"I want to change my clothes."

"To what?"

---

Five minutes later, she stood in a cropped white hoodie, loose black jeans, and black sneakers. Hair in a messy bun, lips bare except for a faint sheen of balm.

"You like simple," he murmured, studying her like he was memorizing every detail.

"I do. And I’d like my simple life back too."

He said nothing. She rolled her eyes and sat on the bed, crossing her legs.

"At least give me my phone."

"No communication with the outside world."

"Then what the f**k do you expect me to do?"

"Whatever you like—inside these walls. No leaving, no outside contact."

"Get me a phone right now, you bastard."

"It’s Rafael."

"What?"

"My name. Rafael De Rossi" His voice softened slightly. "You didn’t know."

"I don’t care."

The smile that touched his lips was slow, deliberate. "I’ll get you a phone."

Minutes later, Lily brought it.

"Here you go, Mistress."

Abigail took it instantly, dialing Julie. No connection.

"What’s going on?"

"The Master said no communication with the outside world. Calls to anyone not already saved in your contacts won’t connect."

Rage simmered under her skin. If thoughts could kill, Rafael would’ve been buried six feet deep.

Her phone buzzed with a message.

> Don’t leave the house, Tesoro. Ask the servants for anything you want. See you later.

She glared at the screen. "The nerve."

Still, she didn’t refuse the lavish breakfast that followed. Being kidn*pped didn’t mean she had to waste good food.

Netflix kept her distracted until noon.

---

Downstairs

The servants lined the hall as Rafael entered, their eyes lowered.

"What did she do?" he asked Frances, heading for the stairs.

"Watched Netflix all morning. Then asked for internet. When we refused, she didn’t eat lunch."

His expression darkened. "Prepare lunch and bring it up in ten minutes."

He entered her room without knocking.

She sat by the window, sunlight catching in her hair. When she turned to him, her eyes were cold enough to cut.

"Why didn’t you eat?"

She turned away again.

He crossed the room in two strides, his hand catching her shoulder to spin her around. She gasped.

"Are you crazy?"

"You’d be surprised." His voice was quiet, measured. "I don’t want to hurt you—so don’t make me."

"Do. Your. Worst."

He stepped back, gaze steady. "Eat your lunch before I get back—or I’ll punish you."

The way he said punish wrapped around her like a slow, invisible hand.

What is wrong with me?

He left just as Lily entered with a tray of ham sandwiches and juice. She thought about refusing, but hunger and memory of his eyes made her take the first bite.

---

The boardroom overlooked the city, floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting the lights below.

Six men sat around the polished table.

None of them looked comfortable.

Across from me, Richard Hayes wiped sweat from his forehead for what had to be the tenth time.

The CEO of Hayes Logistics.

Three months ago, he'd laughed when I offered to buy his company.

Now he looked like he hadn't slept in days.

I adjusted the cuff of my suit.

"So."

Silence.

"You wanted to meet."

Richard swallowed.

"Mr. De Rossi... there seems to be some misunderstanding."

I looked at him.

"Is there?"

"Our investors suddenly pulled out. The banks refused to renew our loans. Three of our biggest clients canceled their contracts overnight."

He forced a laugh.

"Someone is trying to destroy us."

"I know."

His smile faltered.

"You... know?"

"I paid them."

The room went dead.

One of the directors stood abruptly.

"You can't do this!"

I raised an eyebrow.

"I already did."

Richard stared at me.

"...Why?"

I leaned back.

"You remember Antonio?"

His face drained of color.

"My accountant?"

"My accountant."

Richard opened his mouth.

Closed it again.

"He accepted your offer."

"I didn't know he worked for you."

"He did."

"I would've never—"

"You would've."

Silence stretched between us.

Richard finally whispered,

"What do you want?"

I slid a folder across the table.

He opened it.

His hands began to shake.

"...You're buying the company."

"For one dollar?"

"For one dollar."

"You can't be serious."

"I am."

"This company is worth hundreds of millions."

"Yesterday."

He looked around the room.

No one spoke.

No one defended him.

Everyone knew it was over.

"If I refuse?"

I stood.

"Then tomorrow you'll have nothing to sell."

I buttoned my jacket.

"You have until sunrise."

I walked toward the door.

Behind me, Richard called out,

"You ruined my life!"

I stopped.

Without turning around, I said,

"You ruined it the day you thought betraying me had no price."

Then I left.

By morning...

Hayes Logistics belonged to De Rossi Holdings.

Richard Hayes no longer had a company.

He didn't even have an office.

---

An hour later, Abigail appeared in the doorway of his study.

"I need to talk to you."

He looked up from his desk, watching her approach.

"Since you won’t give me my freedom, at least give me internet access."

"No."

"Why not? You can’t keep me doing nothing all day. I have classes to attend."

"No."

"Are you taking my whole life away from me?!" she shouted, stepping closer to his desk.

He said nothing, just watched her like she was the only thing worth noticing.

"I won’t tell anyone, I promise."

Silence.

She glared, turned, and stormed out, brushing against the bulky man entering.

"They’ve found him, Boss. He’s in Paris," the man reported.

Rafael’s tone was casual. "Restore her internet access."

The man hesitated. "But she—"

"Since when do you question me?"

The man bowed deeply. "I’m sorry, Boss. It won’t happen again."

---