Isabelle

 He steps closer to me as I stand back up, raising a brow to him.

"I showed you mine. It's only fair you return the favor," he says.

"Besides," Adam says, stepping closer until the heat of each of his words warms my naked skin. His breathing deepens as his eyes sweep over me, drinking in every detail.

He pulls my arm away from my breasts, admiring them with a heated gaze. Then he grips one of my nipples, rolling it between his fingers. I bite my lip to stop myself from moaning when he gives it a firm tug. His eyes never move from mine, and I don't look away either, as his other hand slides down my waist and over my hip.

He continues to travel down me until his fingers brush my lips, and his thumb briskly grazes against my clit. A small moan escapes me, and I know he knows I don't hate what he's doing. He leans in closer. "I should see how you care for precious things."

"W-why?" I stammer, losing my battle with sanity just as severely as he just had with his anger.

"That's what you'll be doing here," he whispers, his breath hot against my ear. His thumb keeps teasing my clit, while his other fingers massage my pussy lips. His fingers feel so good, like they were designed specifically with me in mind, and I can't help but wonder what the rest of him would feel like toying with my body. "You'll be tending to my horses and the gardens, the roses your father destroyed in particular, of course."

My back arches when he pulls my nipple again. Did he know how close I was to coming when he walked in, or is this all just a coincidence?

"And then, you'll be assisting Ms. Pottsworth with the household chores on the days the maid service doesn't come," he says, pressing harder on my clit with his thumb.

I'm about to explode.

"Yes?" I moan from the seductive way he says the word "come" as he continues to tease my swollen clit.

"You'll help her clean the entire house," he says, pausing for a moment.

"Every room?" I manage to ask, my brain working enough to realize the size of his so-called house is gargantuan.

"Yes, except for the room at the end of the upper east wing. You're never to go there," he purrs, a grin spreading across his face as he watches me fight not to come over his expectant hand.

"Wh-why?" I stammer.

"It's forbidden," he says sharply, a clear warning not to push the subject. Then his voice relaxes as he resumes manipulating my nipple. "Well, we'll discuss the rest at dinner."

I want to scream, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much my body aches for him as his finger slips where no man's finger has ever ventured. I gasp, feeling my lips parting as one of Adam's thick fingers slides in and out of my tight pussy, his thumb still pressing hard on my clit.

Is this what I can expect being his servant to be like? That I'll be his on-demand sex toy. Made to come on his command. Is this just another chore he's training me for? To accept his sexual advances willingly. I wish my body were stronger than it's proving to be right now.

"I told you I'm not having dinner with you," I whisper, closing my eyes and leaning against his muscular frame as he continues playing with my nipples, clit, and pussy.

The room falls silent, and he abruptly rips his fingers from me. I open my eyes, jolted by the abrupt emptiness in my pussy and the loss of his fingers tugging my nipple. He steps back, and his sudden withdrawal causes me to tumble to the ground. I lift my head, staring up at him from my position on the floor. I'm startled by the brief, ominous smile he gives me before his face hardens again, as if he wasn't just forcefully pushing me over my breaking point.

"What?" I ask, confused and breathless.

"You will be joining me for dinner," he states matter-of-factly. Each dreadful syllable from his cold, hate-filled mouth is a whip against my skin, demanding I yield to his every desire.

I can't.

If I submit to his twisted desires not once, not twice, but three times on my first day, I'll survive five years working for this monster. And if I did survive, I can't even fathom what state I'd be in after spending that time as his chew toy.

"I'm not hungry," I lie. I'm starving. I barely ate before coming here because I didn't think I'd be staying here indefinitely.

I should've taken one of Louis' sandwiches.

"It's mandatory," he snaps.

The intensity of his barred teeth rattles every bone in my body, but I will myself not to tremble. He won't get the pleasure of relishing in my body reacting to his garish behavior.

"I don't care," I retort, slipping into my robe. The fact that I allowed him to see... everything seems so preposterous to me now, especially with the way he's acting.

You didn't allow him. He pilfered your body for himself like he owned it—you.

He growls, storming out of the bathroom toward my bed like a madman. I rush past him, grabbing my mom's book before he has the chance to toss the bed in some fit of rage.

"What's that?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Mine," I say, clutching the book tighter to my chest.

He yanks the book from my hands. "I thought I made it clear—everything in this house is mine."

"Please. It's the last thing my mom ever gave me," I plead.

I'm sure my pleas won't make a difference to him, but a brief flicker of sadness crosses his eyes, and he hands the book back. I'm relieved, and for a second, I believe there's a human buried somewhere beneath this —until he looks at the three dresses Ms. Pottsworth laid out and picks up the red one, holding it out to me. "Put this on and come to dinner," he commands.

"Not the worst offer I ever gotten, but definitely not the kindest," I say, crossing my arms.

"It's not an offer!" he roars, his voice booming through the room. "Put it on."

"I don't like it," I lie again. I've never lied this much in my entire life. If I had gone to dinner, this gorgeous dress would've been the one I chose.

"I don't care!" he shoots back.

"It's too small," I shout back at the brute.

"It'll fit," he growls, his brows furrowing, his stare narrowing on me. "If you don't eat with me, you're not eating. Period."

I take the dress from him, and for an instance, a smirk of satisfaction crosses his face—until I throw the dress on the floor.

"Fine!" I huff, matching his glare.

"Fine!" he roars, storming toward the door. But before he leaves, his eyes fall on my inventor's bag.

He snatches it off the floor before I can stop him, and I instantly regret not letting Eliza put it away earlier.

"You can have this back when you choose to behave," he says, his tone dripping with condescension, like he's scolding an insolent child.

He yanks the door open, revealing Ms. Pottsworth, Louis, and Claud, all leaning against the entrance, clearly eavesdropping. They scramble to stand up straight, quickly stepping out of Adam's way.

"Until you learn your place here, you can starve for all I care!" he snarls, stomping down the hall.

I let out a frustrated scream, rushing to the door and slamming it shut before Ms. Pottsworth or the others can say anything. I bang against the door, sighing heavily.

"So... it's safe to assume he's lost his touch with the opposite sex," Louis quips from the other side of the door.

"Poor dear," Ms. Pottsworth murmurs as I slide to the floor, wondering what on earth I've gotten myself into.

Author's Note:

Hey, Sinful Sirens! 💋 Things are definitely heating up in this chapter, aren't they? 😳🔥 Isabelle and Adam's dynamic is shifting fast, and I'd love to know what you think of their push and pull. Is it passion, power, or pure chaos? Drop a comment and tell me your thoughts, theories, or even just your reactions to their electrifying tension! Your feedback means the world—every vote and comment keeps me inspired to bring you more of their twisted, delicious journey. Thank you for reading!