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The next day, Ellie was discharged, but no matter how much Sawyer begged, she refused to go home with him. Instead, she moved in with Jack and Jessica.
So Sawyer did the only logical thing.
He shamelessly moved in too.
And that was how Sawyer’s seven days of slavery began.
"I bought this perfume for you," he said one evening, his eyes gleaming with almost desperate anticipation as he handed her a box. "You love this scent, right? I had it made just for you—exactly how you wanted. The bottle’s made of white gold, with pink diamonds and a ribbon of black diamonds. See, it’s all real."
Ellie’s eyes flickered to the bottle. It was very similar to the perfume bottle she had once described to him—the same one he had given to fake Olivia after their fight at the bar.
Ellie closed her eyes and turned away. "Okay. Put it on the table," she said casually.
Sawyer was just happy to be in the room with her, even if it was only for five minutes before she threw him out.
A few hours later, he was back.
"I bought this necklace for you," he said, "You love gold and emeralds, right? It has emeralds all around, set in white gold."
Ellie glanced at it, and muttered, “Okay.”
Then at dinner, he offered. "I brought you steak from that popular restaurant. I made sure they cooked it exactly how you like it."
Ellie nodded. "I’ll eat it."
He returned again, carrying a tray with different soups.
"You liked this one," he said, a hint of hope in his voice. "I made it for you myself."
Ellie shook her head. "I don’t remember."
Then he was back, carrying a photo album. "I found this from our childhood. We were always together. Do you remember this?"
Ellie glanced at it and shrugged. "Nothing brings back a memory."
Sawyer’s expression darkened, muttering under his breath. "She remembers her parents, her friends, and that fake fucking Olivia. She even remembers that damn model and calls him her husband. But this mad woman lived with me in my fucking bed for three years and doesn’t remember a thing about me?!"
Ellie had to fight to suppress a laugh, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself. Keeping her face serious, she asked loudly, "Did you say something?"
Sawyer spun around at once, shaking his head with a forced smile. "Nothing. I was just thinking about what to bring you for lunch."
"What are you waiting for then? Go." Ellie shook her head at him dismissively.
Sawyer’s eyes narrowed, irritation flashing across his face.
In an instant, he marched toward her. He grabbed her by the waist, and spun her down onto the bed, climbing on top of her. One hand wrapped around her throat—not squeezing, just holding her still—while his lips hovered dangerously close to hers.
"Ellie Whitlock," he growled, his voice low and tense. "Stop treating me like your servant, will you? I'm your future husband!"
"I already have a hus—"
Before she could finish, his mouth was on her neck. His teeth sank into her skin, followed by the slow, soothing stroke of his tongue over the bite. A sharp gasp escaped Ellie’s lips as she whimpered, the sensation causing her to moan involuntarily.
"Only I can do this to you," Sawyer whispered against her skin, his lips trailing down her throat. His voice was rough, possessive. "And for that, you’re not getting another man. Even if I’m fucking dead."
Lifting his head, his intense gaze locked onto hers, his breath ragged and eyes intense.
"Now, say it again. Who am I?"