Aurora had barely slept. The day’s events were too vivid, too raw in her mind. Every detail of his cold, commanding voice and the cruel glint in his eyes replayed in an endless loop. She sat curled up on the edge of the small, hard cot the maids had led her to after her encounter with him. It was clear they had no intention of treating her like a guest in this house.
When the knock came, she startled, her heart jumping into her throat. The door creaked open, and a pair of maids entered, their faces pale and nervous. Neither would meet her eyes.
“Get up,” one of them said softly, her voice barely audible. “He’s waiting.”
Aurora felt her stomach churn. She wanted to protest, to resist, but the words died in her throat. She didn’t trust her own voice not to betray her fear. Reluctantly, she rose to her feet, smoothing down the worn dress they had given her earlier.
The maids exchanged a glance before stepping aside to let her pass. Their silence was suffocating as they escorted her through the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion. The flickering light of the sconces on the walls cast long, eerie shadows that seemed to stretch and twist like grasping fingers.
One of the maids, a young woman with wide, fearful eyes, glanced over her shoulder before leaning close to Aurora. Her voice was barely a whisper, but the urgency in it was unmistakable.
“No matter what happens,” she murmured, “don’t beg him to stop. Whatever you do, don’t give him that.”
Aurora froze for a moment, her breath catching. “Why?” she whispered back, her voice trembling.
The maid didn’t answer. She just shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line, and hurried ahead as if she’d already said too much.
They stopped in front of a large, ornate door at the end of the corridor. The maid who had spoken to Aurora hesitated, her hand hovering over the door handle. She looked back at Aurora, her expression a mixture of pity and fear.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, then opened the door.
Aurora stepped inside, her heart pounding so loudly she thought it might drown out everything else.
The room was vast and opulent, every inch of it exuding wealth and power. A massive four-poster bed dominated the space, its dark, carved wood gleaming in the dim light. Rich red and black fabrics draped the bed and windows, casting the room in an almost suffocating atmosphere of decadence.
He was there, of course, waiting for her. He stood near the window, his back to her, hands clasped behind him. The moonlight streaming in painted him in silvery light, making him look almost otherworldly.
“You’re late,” he said, his tone calm but laced with something that made her stomach twist.
She didn’t respond, her feet frozen to the floor.
He turned then, his eyes locking onto hers. His smile was slow and deliberate, like a cat toying with a mouse. “Come in. Close the door behind you.”
Aurora hesitated for a heartbeat too long, and his expression darkened. “Now.”
Her hands trembled as she reached back to push the door closed. The soft click of the latch felt like a final sentence.
“Good girl,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. He moved closer, his steps unhurried, deliberate, as if savoring her discomfort.
Aurora forced herself to stand tall, even though every instinct screamed at her to shrink away from him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cower.
“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked, stopping a few feet in front of her.
She swallowed hard, meeting his gaze. “Because you think you own me.”
He chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Oh, I don’t think, my dear. I know. You’re mine, Aurora. Every breath you take, every thought in that pretty little head of yours it all belongs to me now.”
“You’re wrong,” she said, her voice trembling but defiant. “You’ll never own me.”
His smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I admire your spirit,” he said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. She flinched, and his smile grew crueler. “But that fire of yours won’t last. It never does.”
He stepped back, gesturing to the bed. “Take off your clothes and get on the bed,” he said, his tone as casual as if he were asking her to fetch him a glass of water. “Unless you’d rather make this a battle. I’d enjoy that, too.”
Aurora’s breath caught, her mind racing. She shook her head, taking a step back. “I won’t,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
He sighed, as if disappointed. “I hoped you’d make this easy,” he said, his tone almost bored. “But I suppose some lessons need to be taught the hard way.”
Before she could react, he closed the distance between them, his hand gripping her wrist with bruising force. He pulled her closer, his other hand gripping her chin and forcing her to look at him.
“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get to say no. Not to me. You can fight, you can scream, you can cry, but it won’t change a damn thing. Do you understand?”
Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. She glared at him, her jaw tight. “You’re a monster,” she said, her voice shaking with both fear and anger.
He smirked. “Perhaps. But I’m the monster who owns you. Remember that.”
With a sharp tug, he ripped the thin fabric of her dress, the sound echoing in the silence. Aurora gasped, instinctively covering herself, but he caught her wrists, holding them firmly.
“Don’t,” he said, his voice a low growl. “You don’t hide from me. Ever.”
Aurora’s tears spilled over, but she refused to beg, refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her plead.
“That’s better,” he said, releasing her wrists. “Now, get on the bed.”
Her body trembled as she turned toward the bed, every step feeling like a betrayal of herself.