Chapter 5 Beneath The Surface

The door clicked shut behind him, echoing through the cold room like a final verdict. Isla sat frozen in the chair, the soft leather biting into her thighs, her heart thudding hard against her ribs. She had walked into the lion’s den—no, she’d been dragged—and now the lion had walked away, leaving her alone with her own thoughts, her own spiraling fear… and something else. Need. A dark, twisted craving that she didn’t want to acknowledge. Not yet. The straps on the armrests gleamed in the dim light, whispering silent threats she couldn't shake. They hadn’t been fastened—not yet—but their presence alone was enough to make her skin crawl. What had he meant when he said what’s coming next? Would he tie her down? Would he force her to submit? Her stomach twisted, and yet, underneath the dread, a flicker of something traitorous burned low in her belly. Time passed slowly in the silence. She tried to count the seconds, to stay grounded, but her mind wandered. Every creak in the walls made her flinch. Every flicker of candlelight seemed to dance like a devil’s promise. And still, she waited. When the door finally opened again, she jerked upright. Dominic entered with the same controlled grace he always carried—his power subtle, lethal. In his hand, he held a tray. Crystal glass. A bottle of deep red wine. Strawberries, glistening with moisture. And a small black box. He set the tray on a side table, pouring the wine with elegance that spoke of wealth and dangerous refinement. “You’ve waited well,” he said, his voice smooth. “Good girl.” The words struck her like a lash. “Don’t call me that,” she snapped. He smirked, turning to face her. “You’re free to walk out of this room, Isla,” he said, gesturing to the door. “But you won’t.” Her jaw clenched. “You don’t know me.” “I know your kind,” he said, stepping closer. “Fierce. Proud. But lonely. Desperate to be seen, to be known. Craving control—until someone offers to take it from you. And then...” He stopped in front of her, eyes glinting. “You fall.” Her breath hitched. “I’m not yours,” she said. Dominic’s gaze dropped to the collar around her neck. He brushed his fingers over the ruby, slow, deliberate. “Aren’t you?” She wanted to deny it, scream, slap him—but instead, she trembled beneath his touch. “I brought you something,” he said, picking up the small black box from the tray. She eyed it warily. “What is it?” He opened it without a word. Inside was a choker—black velvet with a dangling silver charm in the shape of a serpent. Isla blinked. “You already put a collar on me.” “This,” he said, lifting the choker with two fingers, “is for you to choose to wear.” Her brows pulled together. “Why would I?” “Because it means something,” he said. “It means you’re not just mine by force. You’re mine because you want to be.” “I don’t,” she lied. “Don’t you?” he asked softly, stepping behind her. He leaned down, his lips grazing her ear. “If I told you to get on your knees right now and beg me to take you, would you say no? Or would you obey?” Heat flushed her cheeks. He didn’t wait for her to answer. Instead, he draped the choker along her collarbone, letting it rest there like a question. She didn’t move. Couldn’t. “I’ve seen your eyes when I touch you,” he murmured. “Your breath quickens. Your pulse races. You want to hate me. But your body doesn’t lie.” He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “You’re mine, Isla. You can fight it all you want. But this—us—it’s already happening.” She reached up, intending to rip the velvet from her neck. But her fingers froze. She couldn’t do it. Not yet. “You think this is love?” she spat. “This twisted game?” His expression darkened. “No. This is ownership.” She shivered. He took the wine glass and offered it to her. “Drink.” She hesitated. Then, slowly, she took it. Her fingers brushed his. The wine was rich, dark, blood-like. It burned down her throat and settled in her stomach like fire. Dominic knelt before her. Her breath caught. “What are you doing?” “Making it clear,” he said, eyes locked on hers. “That even I can kneel. But only for what’s mine.” His hands slid up her thighs, parting them slightly. She gasped. “Don’t—” “Say stop,” he whispered. “Say it and I’ll leave.” She opened her mouth. But no words came out. “I thought so.” He leaned in and kissed the inside of her knee. Soft. Reverent. Her body betrayed her, responding with an ache she didn’t understand. “You’re afraid of how much you want this,” he said. “I don’t—” He silenced her with a finger to her lips. “Don’t lie to me, Isla. I’ll always know.” Then he stood. “I’ll give you one night,” he said. “To decide if you’ll wear that choker for me. If you’ll surrender your way.” She looked up at him, breathing hard. “And if I don’t?” she asked. His smile was wicked. “Then I’ll make you beg for it.” He left again, the door shutting behind him. And Isla sat there, the velvet choker in her lap, trembling with desire and fear—and the slow, agonizing realization that she wanted to surrender. Even if it destroyed her.