Bound to HIM

I once remembered showering at my friend Lyla’s house when I caught her father watching me.

At first, shock froze me in place. He stood in the doorway of the bathroom, silent and unmoving, his hand still resting against the frame. But when he made no attempt to leave, a dangerous thought slipped into my mind.

Why not let him enjoy the view?

I pushed open the thick glass door that separated us and turned fully toward him, letting the hot water cascade over my bare body. Slowly, I dragged the soapy washcloth across my brown skin, never taking my eyes off him.

First over one breast.Then the other.

His reaction was instant. His jaw tightened, and his hand moved to cup himself as if he were trying—and failing—to control the need building inside him.

A chill ran up my spine despite the heat of the shower, and my nipples hardened when I noticed the unmistakable bulge straining against his dress pants. He must have just gotten home from work, expecting a quick shower of his own.

Instead, he found me.

I bit down on my bottom lip.

Mistake.

The ache pulsed through me. He throbbed against his pants.

I let the cloth trail lower, deliberately tracing a line of soap from the valley between my breasts down the center of my stomach to the space between my thighs. My breath caught as I circled my sensitive clit.

He shifted on his feet as he throbbed again.

I braced my back against the tiled wall and parted my legs just enough for him to see exactly what I wanted him to see.

I used my hand to play with myself in front of him. I whimpered for him when I slipped a finger inside, letting out a soft sigh. He’s stroking himself now. I slipped another finger in, trying to fill myself up for him, and let out another moan. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him—

“Sign it,” he demanded.

The memory shattered.

I blinked back tears and straightened my spine, tightening my grip around the pen in my hand. The ballpoint hovered over the dotted line.

Just sign it, Gaelle.

“Do as you’re told,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

I forced myself to steady my breathing and pressed the pen to the paper. Ink bled across the page as my signature came to life.

The moment I finished, he snatched the contract from in front of me.

I flinched.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

My throat went dry.

Every muscle in my body locked with tension.

My mind screamed that I had just sold my soul to the devil.

What will become of me now?

A billionaire’s wife?A possession?A carefully dressed whore with a diamond ring?

“It was a pleasure doing business with Mrs. Grimm.”

A slow smile curled across his lips.

A shiver ran up my spine, and disgust churned in my stomach—mostly at myself for letting him affect me.

“Fuck off,” I muttered under my breath.

“What was that?”

His expression turned glacial in an instant.

“On your knees,” he said coolly, every trace of warmth gone from his voice.

I looked up at him sharply.

Before I could respond, a sharp knock sounded at the door.

The interruption cut through the room like a blade.

His gaze dragged away from mine with visible irritation.

“Leave,” he said.

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I shoved my things into my bag and bolted for the door, rushing past whoever had interrupted us so quickly I barely registered the figure standing outside.

Freedom was only a few steps away.

Then his hand clamped around my wrist.

I gasped.

The contact sent an unwanted spark through me, immediately drowned out by the pain of his grip tightening.

I knew it would bruise.

He yanked me back just enough to force me to face him.

I lifted my chin until my eyes met his.

Still empty.Still cold.Still terrifying.

“We will finish this tonight.”

Each word landed like a threat.

Then he released me.

The door shut in my face with a soft click.

How fucking rude.

I rubbed at my wrist, trying to erase the feeling of his fingers from my skin. It burned.

Already, faint black-and-blue marks were beginning to bloom where he had held me.

The person outside was a woman.

I hadn’t seen her face—only her silhouette framed by the dim light of the office.

Tall.Elegant.Still.

For a moment, I wondered what she had done to deserve being summoned into his den.

Then she stepped closer.

“Gaelle?” she asked softly.

Her voice caught me off guard.

Not cruel.Not sharp.Just… tired.

I turned.

She was stunning in a way that made my chest tighten—dark hair pinned neatly back, crimson lipstick, and eyes that carried the kind of exhaustion only years of surviving could create.

“You should leave before he changes his mind,” she said.

I frowned. “Who are you?”

Her lips curved into a sad smile.

“Someone who once signed that same contract.”

The blood drained from my face.

“What?”

She glanced at the closed office door before lowering her voice.

“He likes control. He likes ownership. And once he decides something belongs to him…”

Her gaze dropped briefly to my bruised wrist.

“…he doesn’t let go easily.”

A cold knot formed in my stomach.

“Then why are you still here?” I asked.

Something flickered in her expression.

Fear.

“Because some offers,” she whispered, “cost more than money.”

Before I could ask another question, the office door opened again.

Leif stood in the doorway, towering, immaculate, and furious.

His dark eyes settled on me.

Then on the woman.

Then back to me.

“Tonight, eight o’clock,” he said.

It wasn’t an invitation.

It was an order.

“And if I don’t come?”

A slow smile touched his mouth.

“Then your family loses everything by morning.”

My breath stopped.

The house.My mother’s medical bills.My brother’s tuition.Everything.

He had me.

He knew it.

And the worst part?

As I stared into those cold, merciless eyes, I realized I had known it the moment I signed.

Tonight, I would walk straight back into the devil’s house.

And this time, there would be no interruption.