CHAPTER 4: THE MASTER WING
1561 Words
Damien moved her to the master wing.
"Closer to me," he said. "Where I can watch you."
One bed. One rule. No escape.
That night, Ellie learned what "possession" really meant.
Morning came, and with it, Damien’s command.
“Pack your things,” his voice came through the intercom at dawn. Cold. No greeting. “You’re moving to the master wing. Today.”
Ellie’s heart dropped. “The guest room was fine.”
“The guest room was temporary,” he replied. “You signed a contract, Ellie. You live where I say you live. Closer to me.”
Closer. The word sent ice and fire through her veins at the same time.
By noon, her small bag was in a room that took her breath away. The master wing wasn’t a room. It was an entire floor. Black marble floors. Floor-to-ceiling windows. A bed that could fit five people.
And only one bed.
“There’s no other bed,” Ellie said. Voice small.
Damien stood by the window, back to her. Black suit. Hands in pockets. “No,” he agreed. “There isn’t.”
“So where do I sleep? ”
“Here,” he said simply. He turned. Steel gray eyes locked on hers. “With me.”
Ellie’s mouth went dry. “We’re not married.”
“No,” Damien said. He walked toward her. Slow. Predatory. “We’re not. But you’re mine for one year. And my possessions stay close.”
He stopped in front of her. So close she could feel his heat. Smell his cologne. Whiskey and danger.
“Rule three,” he whispered. “You sleep when I sleep. You wake when I wake. You don’t leave this wing without me.”
“That’s not in the contract! ” she snapped. Defiance rising.
Damien’s hand came up. One finger traced her jawline. Not a touch. A claim. “I write the rules now, Ellie. Every day, you’ll learn a new one.”
His finger dropped to her collarbone. Traced the line of it over her dress. Her skin prickled. Her breath caught.
“Do you understand? ” he asked. Voice low. Dangerous.
Ellie nodded. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think.
“Good girl,” he murmured. The praise hit her like a drug. “Now, dinner is at 8. Don’t be late.”
He walked away. Left her standing in the center of his bed. His territory. His rules.
That night, 8 PM sharp, she sat at the edge of the massive bed. He hadn’t come yet. The room was dark except for the city lights outside.
The door opened.
Damien stepped in. Shirt unbuttoned at the top. Sleeves rolled up. No tie. He looked more dangerous like this. Less CEO. More predator.
He saw her on the bed. His eyes darkened.
“Stand,” he ordered.
Ellie stood. Legs shaking.
Damien walked to her. Stopped inches away. He didn’t touch her. Not yet. But his presence alone made her skin burn.
“Look at me,” he said.
She did. Those steel gray eyes held her captive.
“You’re mine now,” he whispered. “In my bed. In my wing. In my world.”
His hand came up. Cupped her face. His thumb brushed her lower lip. Slow. Possessive. Testing.
Ellie’s heart hammered. Every nerve in her body screamed. Run. Stay. Fight. Surrender.
Damien’s gaze dropped to her lips. Then back to her eyes. “Do you want me to stop, Ellie? ”
It wasn’t a question. It was a trap.
She opened her mouth. No words came out.
Damien leaned closer. His breath ghosted over her lips. “Because if you don’t say stop, I won’t.”
The air between them was thick. Hot. Dangerous.
His lips were almost on hers. Almost. She could feel the heat of him. The promise of him.
Then he pulled back.
“Not tonight,” he murmured. “But soon. Very soon.”
He turned and walked to his side of the bed. Pulled back the covers. Got in. Like this was normal. Like she wasn’t burning alive beside him.
“Lights out,” he said. Voice final.
The room went dark.
Ellie stood frozen. Heart pounding. Skin burning where he touched her. She should run. Should scream. Should fight.
Instead, she slid into the bed. As far from him as possible.
The mattress dipped when he moved. His arm came around her waist. Not pulling her close. Just... there. Possessive. Claiming.
“Don’t move,” he whispered in the dark. Voice is rough. “Or I’ll think you want more.”
Ellie froze. Completely. His chest was warm against her back. His breath stirred her hair.
She lay there, trapped between fear and want, between hate and need.
One year. One bed. One monster.
And she was starting to think she didn’t want to escape him anymore.
The darkness was suffocating. But not because of the room. Because of him.
Ellie lay stiff as a board. Every inch of her skin aware of his arm around her waist. Warm. Heavy. Possessive. His chest rose and fell against her back. Slow. Steady. Like he owned the rhythm of her breathing too.
She told herself to move away. To slide to the edge of the bed. To create distance.
But she didn’t.
Because when he whispered “Don’t move,” her body obeyed before her mind could argue.
Minutes passed. Or hours. She lost track. The city lights outside painted shadows on the ceiling. The silence was thick. Loaded.
Damien wasn’t sleeping. She could feel it. His breathing was too controlled. Too aware.
“You’re still awake,” he murmured. Voice rough with sleep but sharp with intent. His arm tightened around her waist just a fraction. Not pulling. Claiming.
Ellie closed her eyes. “I can’t sleep.”
“Why? His lips brushed the shell of her ear. Not a kiss. A threat. A promise. “Afraid I’ll touch you? ”
Her breath caught. “Afraid you won’t.”
She said it before she could stop herself. The truth slipped out in the dark where lies couldn’t survive.
Damien went still. For three heartbeats, nothing. Then his hand slid from her waist up her side. Slow. Deliberate. Fingers splayed over her ribs like he was counting them. Owning them.
His thumb stopped just beneath her breast. Over the fabric of her dress. Close enough to burn. Far enough to torture.
“Careful what you admit in my bed, Ellie,” he whispered. His breath was hot against her neck. “Words here have consequences.”
Ellie swallowed hard. “Then make me take them back.”
Challenge. Defiance. Stupid. Reckless.
Damien’s hand froze. Then he turned her. Slow. Until she was on her back, staring up at him. The room was dark, but his eyes caught the city light. Steel gray. Burning.
He propped himself on one elbow. Looked down at her. From her face to her lips to the way her chest rose and fell too fast.
“You want me to punish you for that, Ellie? His voice was low. Dangerous. “For saying things you’ll regret in the morning? ”
Ellie lifted her chin. Defiant even while her heart hammered. “I don’t regret anything I say to you.”
“Liar,” he breathed. But there was something else in his voice now. Not anger. Hunger.
Damien’s hand came up. Fingers traced her jaw. Her cheek. Down to her throat. Resting there. Feeling her pulse jump under his touch.
“You’re trembling,” he observed. “Is it fear now, Ellie? Or is it something else? ”
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because she didn’t know anymore.
His thumb brushed her lower lip again. Same spot as before. Same fire.
“Say stop,” he commanded softly. “Say stop and I’ll let you go. Say stop and I’ll sleep on the couch. Say stop, Ellie.”
The room held its breath.
Ellie stared into his eyes. Saw the control barely holding him back. Saw the beast behind the billionaire. Saw the man who wanted her to choose.
Her lips parted. The word formed in her throat.
“Stop,” she whispered.
Damien’s eyes flared. Then he exhaled. A sound like relief and frustration mixed.
“Good girl,” he murmured. But he didn’t move his hand. Didn’t let go.
Instead, he leaned down. His forehead pressed to hers. Their breaths mingled in the small space between them.
“You said stop,” he whispered. “So I’ll stop. But Ellie...” His voice dropped lower. Darker. “Don’t say it again unless you mean it. Because next time I might not listen.”
The warning sank into her bones. Into her blood.
He rolled away. Arm leaving her waist. Cold air replaced his heat. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Rigid. Controlled. Like a man holding himself back from destruction.
“Go to sleep,” he said. Voice is flat now. Commanding again. Wall back up!
Ellie turned on her side. Away from him. Hugging herself. But her skin still burned where he touched her. Her lips still remembered the heat of his breath.
She didn’t sleep.
Neither did he.
One year. One bed. One rule.
And both of them were breaking it, slowly, without touching.
**TO BE CONTINUED...**
- Writer
