Chapter 3: Tough Cookie

CORIAN

“Don’t touch that,” I said, voice rougher than intended, but necessary.

She spun around, yanking her hand from the portrait like a guilty child caught hands deep in a candy jar.

There she was.

The girl Ms. Sinclair sent.

Maddison Summers.

“I’m sorry… It’s a beautiful painting.”

I didn’t respond. Because I don’t do polite. I don’t do pretend. I do rules. And I hate when people touch my things.

She scrambled to fill the silence. “I—I’m an art student. I love art. I make them, sometimes collect—”

“Stop rambling.”

She did. Instantly.

Obedient.

I liked that.

My gaze roamed. Brown curls over one shoulder. Golden-brown skin that looked kiss-warm and buttery, full pouty lips, big eyes, sharp little nose, little freckle on her cheek. A black dress that hugged her curves. That revealing slit and scandalously low back, pure sin. And for such a petite frame, she had quite the ass. A whole curve ball of a surprise.

I swallowed.

“Sit.”

She obeyed.

Submissive?

I sat across from her, studied her hands… elegant fingers, soft pink nails. Matching polish on her toes.

Even her feet were perfect.

Damn.

I was already too interested.

“Ausley,” I called.

He stepped forward, handed her a black file.

“What is this?” she asked, opening it.

“An NDA. Whatever happens here stays here. Not a word to anyone you call your friend, your boyfriend, or your… fuck buddy.”

Her cheeks flushed as if I had broken the 11th commandment.

“This isn’t a boardroom contract, Ms Summers. It’s my world.”

She blinked, still uncomfortable. “I don’t have… any of those, just a best friend.”

No boyfriend?

No one touching her?

No one controlling that body? No way in hell.

“You can take time to read….”

She pulled out the pen strapped to the side and signed it so fast like she was ripping off a bandage

“There,” she said, lifting her chin, trying to look bold. But her eyes flicked to mine, trembling.

“Good.” Ausley took the file and left us alone.

I waited, my eyes fixed on the steady rise and fall of her chest, until the door finally clicked shut. 

It was just us now.

“Now tell me about yourself.”

She straightened. “I’m Maddison Summers. Art student at Monalisa Art School. I have some published works and I hope to open my own studio once I—”

Oh, she was about to bore me.

“Ms. Summers,” I cut her off from delivering her interview speech. “I didn’t ask for what’s on paper. I asked what’s not. What’s your favorite sex position? How long does it take for you to cum? How hard do you cum? Where’s your G-spot?”

She blinked, cheeks flushing red, lips parting in silent shock. Her hands curled into fists on her lap.

Ms. Sinclair promised a professional. She trembled like a first-timer.

“No response?”

She pressed her lips into a hard line. “Just taken aback by your crass lack of… decency.”

“Decency?” I chuckled, leaning back. “You’re sitting in my couch, getting paid to fuck me for thirty days.”

Her jaw dropped and her entire face was as flushed as a properly teased nipple.

She shot up. “This was a mistake. I can’t do this.”

Brows raised, I watched her storm toward the door,chest heaving like she was about to bungee-jump off a cliff.

Midway there, she froze, muttering to herself under her breath, “Suck it up, Maddison. You need this.”

Inhale.

Exhale.

Then she turned and came right back.

Chin high. Arms folded. Eyes glaring, but her lower lip trembled. “I deserve dignity. This is a contract. I’m offering a service. I expect respect.”

Interesting.

Not just a body for hire. She had a spine.

Tough cookie.

I stood. Took my time. Let her feel the shift in the room when I moved. Her body locked up tight. But those knees? They almost gave out the second I stopped just close enough to count the freckles on her face.

Not fully submissive.

Yet.

I closed whatever distance that stood between us, consuming every nook inch to inch. “Well said, Ms. Summers. But if you try to  walk out that door again, there won’t be another chance to walk back.”

She flinched, lashes fluttering as her eyes glossed over. “Understood, Mr. Van Halen.”

No other woman had me this hooked in under five minutes.

Damn.

My gaze dropped to her mouth. Fuck.... the things I’d do to that pouty, plump thing.

Eyes back up, Trojan. "I take two things dead serious.... nutrition and safety."

Her brow jumped. “My nutrition? Like… telling me what to eat?”

“Like hand-feeding you if I have to.”

She let out a scoff, all attitude. “I can handle my own nutrition, Mr. Van Halen, thanks.”

“Not while you’re mine, you can’t. And safety? Don’t even think about going rogue on me.”

She swallowed hard, like she’d just forced down a frog. “Fine.”

“Four rules,” I said, tilting her chin so her eyes dipped into mine. “Don’t touch my things, If you need something, you ask. Don’t go snooping, my space is off limits to you. Don’t get attached…. This is just a contract. And rule number five?”

I leaned in, brushed my lips near her ear.

“Don’t you dare break them or there will be consequences.”

She swallowed. “Understood, Mr. Van Halen.”

My thumb grazed her bottom lip. “For the next thirty days, the only name you say… on your lips, in your body, in your soul—is mine. Corian Van Halen.”

“Yes, Mr. Van Halen,” she breathed, nostrils flaring, like she didn’t trust herself to even take me in. Like the scent of me alone might ruin her.

I brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. She flinched again.

Beautiful. Fragile. Fighting.

My hand slid to the small of her back, claiming the space like it already belonged to me, and I pulled her in. “I own you, Maddison. And I’ll have you... anyway I damn well please.”

“What?” Her eyes flared, voice trembling.

The way she flips from shy schoolgirl to fiery little thing in seconds? Somebody should be writing papers on it.

“I’m not going to break you, Maddison Summers… but make no mistake… you will submit to me. Completely. No hesitation. No escape. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” She nodded, biting her slightly parted lip. 

God, that was delicious. 

I leaned in, voice low. “Last chance to walk, Ms. Summers.”

Her eyes fluttered, chest rising like she didn’t know if she wanted to run or lean in. “I’m not walking away, Mr. Van Halen.”

I smirked, head full of wicked intentions.

My hand slid from the small of her back. The absence made her sway. 

“Good.”

I turned, knowing she’d follow.

“Welcome to my world, Maddison Summers.”

And just like that… I led her toward the room that would break her. The room that would own her.

The Mirror Room.