Erika

They dragged me from the banquet hall. This time there was no blindfold. Not like Xavier.

A private elevator swallowed us. The doors shut, then opened again, and they yanked me out without ceremony.

This floor... it was unlike any I had ever seen. Strange. Hidden. A secret place.

The man slid a golden card. The door opened. His men pushed me into a suite so opulent it almost stole my breath.

The crystal chandelier glittered in the center, casting fire across polished marble. Wealth dripped from every corner of the room. For a fleeting moment, it felt like stepping into a fairytale. But inside, I knew better. This wasn't magic. It was a carefully built prison.

"Take her inside," his voice cut.

They dragged me through another door. A panel beeped under his thumbprint, the lock released. One look from him, and his men vanished, leaving me alone in his grip.

The room was vast. White carpet silenced my steps. A grand fireplace burned in the corner, flames swallowing logs with a steady roar. A couch sat like a throne near the fire.

On the table-food. Meats, fruit, sweets-enough to make my stomach clench with hunger. But there it was: a small knife, gleaming in the fruit basket.

I tore my gaze away, only to find his eyes already on me. Calm. Calculating.

He removed his coat, smooth. Intentional. My body reacted before my brain-I lunged, snatched the knife, pointed it straight at him.

He didn't even blink.

Rage boiled up in me. All the fear and fury I'd buried erupted. My scream ripped into the silence, raw, defiant.

But instead of striking me down, he leaned back. Amused. "Prove yourself," he said evenly.

The words hit harder than a slap. "How... how can I?" I whispered.

His smirk widened, sharp and dangerous. "Follow instructions. Show me you're useful-or you'll wish you hadn't."

He sank into the couch effortlessly, legs crossed, cigar lit from the firelight, clouding the air with smoke as if this were merely an evening pastime.

"Open the window. Get on the railing."

My throat closed. Still, I obeyed. The latch clicked; the glass swung open.

Wind tore into the room. The city stretched far below, tiny as a toy set. Cars crawled like ants. Lights blinked endlessly.

Sixty-six floors up.

My hands trembled as I climbed. The railing shook under my weight. My thin shirt lashed against me in the freezing gusts. One slip and I wouldn't even have time to scream.

"JUMP!" His command thundered through the air.

My blood turned to ice. He was serious. The abyss beneath me gaped wider, pulling me with invisible hands.

"No." I slipped back over the railing, landing hard against the balcony. Breathless. Terrified.

"You never acknowledge me, Sir-inside or outside." My voice shook. "So I won't."

Silence. Then-something flickered in his eyes. A ghostly twist of his lips. Amusement, faint but real.

He rose without a word. Walked into a closet. Returned with a shirt in hand. White.

"Wash yourself," his tone was ice. "You stink. Don't touch the master bath. Use the small shower."

The shirt hit me in the face.

I swallowed my pride and obeyed. The small shower was tucked into the corner of a cavernous bathroom. Not elegant. Bare. Enough. I scrubbed, rinsed, pulled the oversized white shirt over my damp skin. It clung. Too short. Too thin.

When I stepped back into the suite, he was there. Too close. Too fast.

I stumbled backward until my spine struck the wall. He followed, bracing his hands on either side of my face. I was caged.

"Is your maidenhead intact?" His voice scraped low, sharp as a blade.

Heat flared through me-shame, rage, something I couldn't name. My cheeks burned, but I forced the truth out: "No."

His gaze deepened, cold and triumphant. "Good. Remember this-little missy. You. Are. Mine."

His fingers clamped my cheeks, twisting them into a grotesque pout. My body froze under the humiliation. He leaned close. Too close. His tongue flicked against my lower lip. Then, just as quickly, he pulled away.

A wink. A smirk. He drifted back toward his massive bed.

I stood paralyzed until words burst out of me. "Sir-can I... can I eat?"

He paused, glancing over his shoulder. "You earned it." His voice was bored, careless. He vanished into the bedroom, click - lock.

Finally. I attacked the food with trembling hands, shoving it into my mouth until the ache in my stomach dulled. Then I sank onto the soft carpet by the fire. The warmth swallowed me, lulled me.

Sleep came fast, pulling me under before I could resist.

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