Chapter 7 His Rules, Her Defiance

The morning sun broke through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting slanted beams of golden light over the massive bed where Isla lay sprawled. Her limbs ached with the echo of surrender, her skin still bearing the ghost of Dominic’s touch—his lips, his hands, the rope. Everything about him was burned into her now. And yet, there was no safety in the afterglow. There never was. Isla sat up slowly, the sheet falling from her bare chest. The choker remained tightly fastened around her throat. The tiny serpent charm glimmered like a brand, taunting her in the mirror across the room. She touched it lightly. You’re mine, he had said. It had been a dangerous promise. Or maybe a warning. Before she could peel the choker off, the door creaked open. Dominic entered without knocking. His presence filled the room instantly—tall, controlled, deadly in that serene way only predators mastered. He carried a tray with breakfast—black coffee, toast, berries, and something delicate she didn’t recognize. He set it on the nightstand. “Eat,” he commanded. Her stomach growled against her pride. She ignored the tray and narrowed her eyes. “You can’t keep me here forever.” Dominic arched a brow. “Can’t I?” “You kidnapped me.” He gave a dry smile. “You walked into the cage on your own, Isla. Last night proved that.” She bristled. “You manipulated me.” “And you liked it.” Heat flushed up her neck. She hated how easily he could fluster her. “I’m not your pet,” she snapped. “No,” he agreed. “You’re my obsession.” That word sent a shiver down her spine. He wasn’t even trying to mask it anymore. He walked to the foot of the bed and stood there, hands folded behind his back like a general preparing to give orders. “Get dressed,” he said. “Today, you learn the rules.” Her heart thudded. “I’m not playing your sick games.” “Oh, Isla,” he said with a dark smile, “you’ve already started.” --- The underground chamber looked like something from a dream—no, a nightmare wrapped in velvet and leather. The walls were lined with glass cabinets containing objects Isla couldn’t name without blushing. Chains hung from the ceiling. There was a padded bench in the center, and a mirror that covered the far wall. Dominic stood beside her, his hand resting lightly on her lower back as if claiming her without words. “You will follow three rules in this house,” he said calmly. “Let me guess. Obey, obey, obey?” His smile twitched, amused. “Not quite.” He stepped in front of her, his voice shifting—deeper, colder. “Rule one: You do not lie to me. About anything. Your thoughts. Your fears. Your body. I will know, and the punishment for lying is… thorough.” She clenched her jaw. “You expect honesty while you keep me prisoner?” “I didn’t say it was fair. Only that it is.” He stepped closer. “Rule two: You do not disobey me in public. Appearances matter. The world we move in requires control. I expect your loyalty in front of others. Defy me behind closed doors if you must—but never in front of them.” Her stomach twisted at the cold precision of that condition. “And rule three?” she asked. His eyes glittered. “Rule three: You don’t fall in love with me.” Her breath caught. That—that—was the one rule she hadn’t expected. “You think I could?” she whispered. “I think you’re already fighting it,” he replied. “But I want to make something clear, Isla.” He walked behind her, his breath brushing her ear. “I don’t love. I control. I consume. I destroy.” His words settled in her bones like ice. “Do you understand?” he asked. She turned to face him fully, raising her chin. “No. But I will. And when I do, I’ll use it against you.” Dominic chuckled, low and dangerous. “There she is,” he murmured. “My wild little flame.” He raised a finger and pointed to a collar displayed in a glass case. “Put it on.” She looked at it—black leather, silver buckle, a single ring in the front. “I’m not wearing that,” she said. He stepped closer. “You wore my choker. This is no different.” “It’s exactly different,” she said. “That was my choice. This is submission.” Dominic’s voice dropped to a whisper. “They’re both submission, Isla. You just haven’t accepted it yet.” She shook her head, fury sparking. “What do you want from me, Dominic? Total surrender? Is that what gets you off?” He reached out and touched her cheek, gentle but firm. “No. What gets me off is watching you struggle to surrender. Watching the war behind your eyes. The way you want to fall, but you keep fighting it.” He leaned in, lips brushing hers without kissing. “You were made for me.” She slapped him. The sound echoed. He didn’t flinch. A beat of silence passed between them. Then he turned and walked to the cabinet, opened it, and retrieved the collar. He held it out. “You will put this on by midnight tonight. Or I will. And trust me, Isla, you don’t want me to do it for you.” Then he left. The collar sat on the velvet bench like a throne waiting for its queen. She stared at it for a long time. The serpent around her neck felt tighter now.