Zo's POV -

I can't look away. As Chiara stands there, trembling in the dimly lit room, I'm captivated by the familiarity of her face, by the memories that flood my mind. It's her, unmistakably her. The auctioneer mentioned her name, but now, without that transparent mask concealing her features, I see her clearly.

The escorts, eager to move on with their business, try to push her forward, treating her like nothing more than a commodity. But I can't allow that, not with Chiara. I hold her firmly but gently, my grip on her delicate arm unmistakably possessive.

I feel her body trembling beneath my touch, a subtle quiver that betrays her fear. My gaze narrows, and I shoot a glacial look at the escorts, who quickly back away, realizing the gravity of their mistake. I can't help but despise them for reducing her to this state.

"Get her decent clothing," I order, my voice a low, commanding rumble that brooks no argument.

Chiara releases herself from my grip, and one of the escorts hurries to fetch a long shirt for her. She covers herself immediately, her movements graceful yet filled with an underlying tension. She's trying to hide her fear, but it's etched into every line of her body, in the way she holds herself so tightly.

I smirk, shaking my head in amusement as I observe her. She's like a frightened kitten, vulnerable yet with a spirit that refuses to be broken. I expected nothing less from the woman I've watched from afar, the woman who intrigued me like no other. Well, Maybe I am talking about the 100 girls here.

With a firm, possessive grasp, I take her right arm and lead her toward the waiting car. First, I let her get in, watching her closely as she eases herself into the seat. Her movements are cautious as if she's still trying to comprehend the whirlwind that has become her life.

I enter the car after her, and Marco takes the passenger seat by the driver's side. With a sigh of relief, I remove my black mask, feeling the weight of it lift from my face. Chiara's eyes remain fixed on me, round and unblinking, as if she's seeing something she can't quite fathom.

"What are you looking at?" I ask, my tone neutral but laced with curiosity.

She shakes her head swiftly, her raven-black hair swaying with the motion as if trying to express that she's not looking at anything in particular. Her gaze darts away from me, and she stares out through the window glass, her expression distant.

I take this opportunity to study her closely, now that the mask is off, and the true Chiara DeMarco is before me. Her hair is an inky cascade that falls in loose waves down her back, a stark contrast to the pale, flawless skin of her face. Her eyes are a deep, soulful brown, filled with a mixture of fear and defiance that only serves to enhance her allure.

Her features are delicate yet striking, each one perfectly balanced with the others. High cheekbones, a straight nose, and full, tempting lips that are currently pressed into a thin line of unease. She's undeniably beautiful, but it's more than just her physical appearance that draws me in.

There's a fire within her, a strength that refuses to be extinguished even in the face of the darkest circumstances. I can see it in the way she holds herself, in the way she hides her vulnerability beneath a facade of stoicism. It's a quality that both infuriates and intrigues me.

As I continue to watch her, my curiosity about this enigmatic woman intensifies. Chiara DeMarco has stepped into my world, and I intend to unravel the layers of mystery that shroud her. There's a story here, one that I'm determined to uncover, no matter the cost.

~ * ~

As the car glides through the night, we arrive at my imposing palace, a place as unique as my own character. It's a structure known simply as "Nyxhaven," a name befitting its enigmatic allure. It stands as a testament to my power and influence, a world unto itself, hidden from the prying eyes of the outside.

Chiara is sleeping, her body seemingly drained from the ordeal she's endured. She's fragile, her form small and slender, a stark contrast to my own towering figure. The height gap between us is evident, almost seven inches that separate us. I can't help but wonder how she ended up here, in this dark corner of my world.

As I lift her into my arms, her scent washes over me, a subtle fragrance of cumin that's strangely alluring. I inhale deeply, letting the intoxicating aroma fill my senses. It's a scent that's uniquely hers, a scent that stirs something primal within me.

I carry her through the dimly lit corridors of Nyxhaven, her weight surprisingly light against my chest. The castle is shrouded in shadows, a place of secrets and mysteries, and now, she's become a part of it.

Finally, I reach the room where Chiara will be residing, a room that I've prepared for her. I lay her down gently on the bed, my eyes scanning her form. That's when I noticed it—a bruise on her left calf, a cruel mark of the torment she'd endured.

My jaw clenches in anger at the thought of anyone daring to harm her. She's mine now, and I will protect her, even from the shadows of her past. I reach out and gently touch the bruise, my fingers tracing the painful outline. It's a reminder of the cruelty she's faced, and it only strengthens my resolve.

But then a disturbing thought crosses my mind. Were there other bruises, hidden beneath the revealing lingerie set she wore at the auction? I push the thought aside for now, deciding to focus on tending to her needs.

Sitting beside her, I watch as she sleeps, her breathing steady and calm. She looks like a sleeping beauty, vulnerable and fragile, and for a moment, I can't help but wonder what has brought her to this point.

But my thoughts are interrupted when Chiara suddenly stirs, her eyes fluttering open. She pushes herself away from me, her movements filled with a wild desperation. "Stay away from me," she hisses, hugging her knees to her chest.

I growl slowly, my patience wearing thin. "Did you forget that you belong to me now? I have a meeting, and you will stay here like a good girl."

Before I can move, she pushes against me, her small frame no match for my strength. "Don't act recklessly. Trust me, you won't love the consequences. So, behave yourself," I warn, but she's unyielding in her defiance.

As I leave the room, a storm of emotions swirls within me. I finish the meeting, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of Chiara and the enigmatic puzzle she represents.

...

When I return, I find the door to her room locked. My frustration surges, and I pound on the door with relentless force. "Tiny claws! Did you lock the door? You have a choice. Open it now, or I will open it in a way you won't appreciate the consequences."

My fist tightens, and I can feel the inner monster, the ruthless side of me that I've worked so hard to suppress, clawing at the surface, eager to break free. Chiara is pushing me to the edge, and I can't guarantee what will happen next if she continues to defy me.

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Lovely readers,
What will happen now?
To know, stay tuned.
Thank you all.
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