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"Good girl."

The praise slides down my spine like poisoned honey. I hate how it makes my skin flush, how something deep inside me preens at this wicked mans approval.

This isn't me. I don't submit. I don't yield.

But his thumb is still tracing my lip, and my body betrays me with a shiver.

"Was that so hard?" His other hand returns to my thigh, higher this time, fingers splayed possessively across bare skin where the robe has fallen open. "See how much easier things are when you behave?"

I want to bite him. Want to draw blood and show him exactly howbehavedI can be. But the weight of his gun against my ribs earlier still echoes in my bones. The sound of that body hitting the floor next door. The casual way he ordered it cleaned up like the life that was once inside that body didn't matter to anyone.

So I stay silent, jaw clenched beneath his grip, eyes fixed on the passing streetlights beyond his shoulder.

His fingers flex against my thigh. "Makes it so much more satisfying when you finally submit."

"I haven't submitted to anything."

"No?" His head tilts, predatory amusement dancing in those cold eyes. "Yet here you sit, in my car, wearing nothing but a robe, while I decide your fate. Sounds like submission to me."

I stare out the rain-streaked window, watching my old life blur past.

While he might be right… what did I even have, really? A cramped flat I could barely afford. Double shifts scrubbing other people's messes.

Marcus...

God, Marcus.

I'd worked so hard to build something with him. Extra shifts for the wedding fund, cooking his favorite meals just to see him smile, planning our future in stolen moments between work and sleep. All while he was probably laughing at me, fucking my best friend the whole time.

Luca's hand presses against the inside of my thigh, and I suppress a shiver. I might not know a single thing about who this man is on the inside, but I already know he's nothing like Marcus.

There will be no fake smiles, no empty promises. Every threat, every claim that leaves his mouth drips with brutal honesty.

I was raised on nothing. Council flats and food banks. I never knew my father. Mum was working three jobs just to keep the lights on. I learned early that wanting more only led to disappointment.

But Luca... he radiates power like a dark sun. His suit probably costs more than I make in a year. The watch he offered - the one I should have taken and run - could have bought me a new life.

Instead, I'm here.

His hand on my thigh. His coat around my shoulders. His men driving us through the shadows of a London I never knew existed.

I own nothing now, he said. But I never really owned anything before. Just dreams that turned to ash and trust that shattered like cheap glass.

Slowly, the chaos of London disappears and iron gates loom ahead, black and twisted against the night sky. The car slows as we approach, and I catch glimpses of stone walls beyond, stretching impossibly high. Security cameras track our movement, red lights blinking in the darkness.

The gates part silently at our approach, and something changes inside my mind.

They're opening for me now. For what I've become.

His property. His possession. His world, and apparently, soon to be…his wife.

The driveway curves through manicured gardens, past fountains that whisper in the darkness. This isn't just wealth – it's power carved in stone and steel.

The mansion rises before us like a shadow given form, all sharp angles and gleaming windows. Lights spill across the courtyard, but they don't warm the cold air.

The scent hits me as we step out of the car. Rain on stone, expensive leather, and something metallic that makes my stomach turn.

Blood.