Day One

Chapter 4

‎I woke up wrapped in silk sheets that didn’t belong to me.

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‎For a second, I didn’t move.

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‎I stared up at the smooth ceiling, watching the early morning sunlight filter through sheer curtains. The air smelled like cedarwood and something colder, sharper, like the man who owned this place.

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‎For a moment, I thought it was a dream. The kind that teases you with heat and power before the weight of reality yanks you back down.

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‎But when I shifted under the sheets and felt the soreness between my thighs, I knew it wasn’t.

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‎He hadn’t touched me last night.

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‎Not fully.

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‎But he had learned me.

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‎Watched me tremble from nothing but his voice. Pressed his fingers into the places that made me whimper without ever giving me release. He had made me beg. And when I finally shattered for him, he hadn’t even undone a single button on his shirt.

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‎He whispered, That’s rule one, Ivy. You cum when I say. Not before.

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‎Now it was morning, and everything was real.

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‎This was Day One.

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‎The contract had started.

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‎And I had no idea who I would be by the time it ended.

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‎I slipped out of the bed slowly, legs still unsteady. My dress was gone. In its place, on the velvet bench beside the door, was a black silk robe. I put it on, tying the sash tightly around my waist.

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‎The penthouse was quiet.

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‎Too quiet.

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‎I stepped into the hallway, my bare feet sinking into plush carpet, my breath catching when I spotted him.

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‎Damien.

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‎In the kitchen. Shirtless. Coffee in one hand, phone in the other.

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‎He looked up the second I entered.

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‎His gaze swept over me slowly, possessively, like he was cataloging every inch of skin the robe didn’t cover.

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‎“Good morning, Ivy.”

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‎I swallowed. “Morning.”

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‎He nodded toward the marble island. A single white envelope sat there. My name printed on the front.

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‎I walked over, picked it up.

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‎Inside was a black card. No logo. Just a chip.

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‎“And this is…?”

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‎“Your spending card,” he said. “Clothes. Toiletries. Anything you need. My assistant has already arranged appointments with a stylist and a private driver. You’ll be taken care of.”

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‎It didn’t feel real.

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‎I gripped the card like it might dissolve in my hand.

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‎“You don’t waste time.”

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‎“Time is expensive,” he said simply. “And so are you.”

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‎His words made my skin flush.

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‎He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. Calm. Commanding. Bare chest still damp from a recent shower.

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‎“Breakfast is waiting on the terrace. Eat. Then shower. Then wait for my call.”

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‎My stomach twisted. “And what happens after?”

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‎He smirked.

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‎“You learn what it means to surrender.”

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‎He walked past me, scent trailing in his wake like heat. I stood there, stunned, still holding the card like a lifeline.

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‎Eat. Shower. Wait.

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‎Three simple things.

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‎But they felt like orders.

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‎I stepped out onto the terrace. The table was already set. Toast, fruit, eggs, fresh juice. A breakfast meant for someone who had always lived this way.

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‎I hadn’t eaten like this in years.

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‎It felt wrong to sit down, but I did. My hands were still trembling. Every bite tasted like something I couldn’t afford.

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‎When I finished, I showered.

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‎Hot water. Expensive soap. A rainfall showerhead that kissed my back like luxury I didn’t deserve. I lingered under the water too long, trying to quiet my thoughts.

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‎By the time I stepped out, wrapped in the same silk robe, my phone buzzed.

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‎Unknown number.

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‎Come to the red room. Door to the right of the piano. Do not speak. Do not wear anything under the robe.

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‎My mouth went dry.

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‎This was it.

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‎The real beginning.

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‎I walked through the penthouse, every step echoing louder in my chest. I found the piano easily. Black. Sleek. Untouched. The door beside it was closed.

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‎Red.

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‎The handle was cold when I turned it.

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‎Inside, the world changed.

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‎Low lighting. Crimson walls. Velvet curtains. Leather straps on the walls. Cuffs hanging from hooks. A bed I couldn’t call a bed, it was a display of dominance. Padded benches. Chains. And at the center of it all, Damien.

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‎He stood by a tall black chair, dressed now in a tailored black suit. A glass of whiskey in his hand.

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‎His eyes didn’t move from me.

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‎“Close the door,” he said.

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‎I did.

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‎“Come here.”

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‎I walked to him slowly, blood pounding in my ears.

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‎He circled me like a predator.

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‎One finger hooked under the robe’s sash.

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‎“You followed instructions,” he murmured. “Good girl.”

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‎The knot came undone in one pull.

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‎The robe fell open.

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‎He didn’t touch me. Not yet.

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‎“Hands behind your back.”

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‎I obeyed.

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‎He reached into his pocket and pulled out leather cuffs.

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‎The moment they clicked shut around my wrists, something in me snapped.

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‎Fear.

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‎Heat.

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‎Curiosity.

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‎He walked in front of me again, fingers brushing my collarbone.

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‎“I told you I would show you what obedience feels like.”

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‎His mouth touched my ear.

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‎“But I never promised it would be easy.”

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‎He walked me to the padded bench and bent me forward. His hand gripped the back of my neck.

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‎“Count for me.”

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‎The first strike of the crop hit the underside of my thighs. Sharp. Hot. Stunning.

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‎“One.”

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‎The second came faster.

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‎“Two.”

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‎By the fifth, my breath was ragged.

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‎By the tenth, I was crying.

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‎Not from pain.

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‎From the way his voice filled the air every time I got the number right. From the way he whispered, Good girl, like he meant it.

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‎He stood in front of me, his hand wiping away a single tear with the back of his knuckle.

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‎“You did better than I expected.”

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‎I wanted to speak, but the words caught in my throat.

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‎“Did you like it?” he asked.

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‎I nodded, cheeks red.

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‎“Say it.”

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‎“I liked it,” I whispered.

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‎He spanked my ass hard this time.

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‎”I said always add daddy.”

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‎”I like it daddy” I whimpered.

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‎”Go to the bed,” He said.

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‎I went to the bed, awaiting what was to come next.

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