Chapter 4 The Price Of Submission

Isla’s thoughts raced like a storm, swirling, crashing, pulling her deeper into the chaos. Her fingers still trembled where they rested on the velvet chair, the lingering sensation of Dominic’s touch burned into her skin. The taste of his kiss lingered on her lips—part bitter, part intoxicating. He’d left her alone, but not truly alone. Not with the collar around her neck. Not with the weight of his presence filling every corner of the room. Her breath caught as she glanced down at the leather strap, the ruby gleaming in the low light like an unspoken promise. She could feel it now, a part of her, a constant reminder of where she was and who held the power. It should have terrified her. But it didn’t. Instead, a deeper, more dangerous curiosity pulsed inside her veins—like a forbidden fruit dangling just out of reach, sweet, dangerous, and impossible to ignore. She pushed herself to her feet, her mind still foggy from the encounter. The room around her seemed to close in, the walls pressing in as though they too were aware of her state—caught between resistance and a growing, undeniable attraction to the man who held her captive. He had touched her, taken something from her with just one kiss. Her mind screamed at her to run, to scream, to claw her way out of his web. But she didn’t move. Instead, she remained in the same chair, staring at the door through which he had just exited. The silence was thick, oppressive, as though it were holding its breath, waiting for something to break. She was still thinking of him when the door clicked open again. “Isla.” Dominic’s voice was smooth, commanding, but with an edge that sent a shiver running up her spine. She stood up quickly, straightening herself, hands at her sides, eyes on the floor. She had to maintain some semblance of control—some defiance. “You wanted to test me,” he said, his tone dark, almost amused. “Now I’m going to test you.” Her heart skipped. “I don’t want your tests,” she snapped, though her voice was smaller than she intended. He chuckled low in his throat, the sound rich and intoxicating. “That’s too bad, Isla. Because here’s the first one.” He stepped toward her, slow and deliberate, his gaze never leaving her face. “Come with me.” The command was simple, but there was an underlying power in it that made her feel as though there was no choice. Her body moved before she could fully process it. Her feet carried her across the room toward him, but with each step, the resistance inside her grew. She didn’t want to obey. But she did. When she reached him, he took her wrist—so gently, it almost seemed like a mockery—and led her down the hall, through the dimly lit corridors that twisted like a labyrinth. His grip was firm, unyielding, yet she knew he wasn’t hurting her. He never hurt her. Not in the way she feared, anyway. She tried to focus on the surroundings, but her mind kept slipping back to the feel of his lips on hers, his breath against her skin. His control. The way he knew exactly how to unearth parts of her that she hadn’t even known existed. Finally, they arrived at a door at the end of the hallway. He unlocked it with a key she hadn’t noticed before, and as the door creaked open, a rush of cool air hit her skin. The room inside was darker, colder—an unsettling contrast to the rest of the house, which was warm and inviting in its opulence. This room was anything but comforting. The walls were lined with shelves filled with strange objects—some beautiful, some terrifying—and the floor was bare, save for a thick, luxurious rug in the center. In the middle of the room stood a large, ornate chair, much like the one she had sat in earlier, except this one had straps attached to the arms and legs. Her stomach dropped. “I don’t want this,” she whispered, the words escaping before she could stop them. Dominic turned to her, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have a choice.” Her heart raced. “You see, Isla,” he said, his voice cold but steady, “in this world, there are two types of people: those who take, and those who let themselves be taken.” He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, close enough that the scent of him—cigars, whiskey, and something more intoxicating—wrapped around her like a veil. “I need to know which one you are,” he continued, his hand resting on her shoulder, his thumb brushing her skin. “You may think you’re stronger than me. You may believe that you can walk away from this. But deep down, Isla, you know that you can’t. I own you now.” Her breath hitched, her body frozen in place. “You belong to me,” he said, voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “And I’m going to teach you the price of submission.” Isla’s chest tightened, and for a moment, she was paralyzed by a fear she couldn’t explain. But it wasn’t just fear. It was something else—a pull, an insatiable need that was growing inside her, something dark and forbidden, but so sweet she could almost taste it. “You won’t break me,” she managed, her voice shaky but defiant. His lips curled into a smile, but there was no amusement in it—only something darker. Something predatory. “Then let’s find out,” he murmured. Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist and pushed her toward the chair. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she struggled to breathe, to find the strength to pull away. But he was too strong. His grip was unyielding. “You’re going to sit in that chair,” he said, his tone final. “You’re going to wait for me to come back, and you’re going to think about what I’ve told you. About what’s coming next.” “No,” she said, trying to pull away. “I won’t—” He cut her off with a single, sharp gesture. “You will.” Isla’s chest heaved, but she didn’t fight him anymore. She sat. Her fingers tightened around the armrests as she glared up at him. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, a gesture so gentle it felt like a mockery. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving her in the eerie silence, the coldness creeping into her bones. Alone. For now.