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Wrapped in luxury, Lica  stands at 5’7”, with a figure that moves with the elegance of a dancer. Her hair, a cascade of chestnut curls, is pinned with a delicate silver hairpin adorned with emeralds,  Her gown is a bespoke piece from the exclusive Parisian designer, Carolyn Lefèvre, tailored to accentuate her every curve. She was kidnapped off the streets of Paris, a city she adored for its vibrant culture and hidden secrets. She was brought to this palatial estate, nestled in the hills of the Poire Valley, known for its sprawling vineyards and historic châteaux. The estate, owned by the enigmatic and powerful figure known as ‘The Collector’, is filled with priceless art and artifacts from around the world.

Her room was unlocked and she was led into a grand dining room, where he sat. This was her third day with him, and the third day she asked him the same thing. "Why am I here?"  Lica said, her voice, a blend of fear and defiance, pierced through the opulent silence of the grand room. Her eyes, traced the angular lines of his handsome face.

Thorne's eyes met hers, a flicker of amusement in the gaze, as he watched her take a seat at the table. "You're here as I said before, because I want you here." He leaned back in the chair, crossing his long legs in a casual yet confident manner.

Lica's heart raced as she tried to control her breathing. She couldn't  believe, that this man had kidnapped her, and now he was sitting there, acting like it was the most normal thing in the world. She felt a wave of anger rise within her as she heard those words again.  She had been kidnapped, and he had the audacity to tell her that she was here because he wanted her? She clenched her fists under the table, her nails digging into her palms. "I am not some object to be possessed," she snapped, her voice shaking with rage.

Thorne eyes narrowed slightly at her outburst, but he remained composed. "I'm aware that you are not an object." He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a whisper. "But you are mine."

Lica's heart skipped a beat at his words, her breath catching in her throat. A surge of fear and anger filling her. She tried to maintain her composure, but her voice trembled. "I'm not yours," she hissed, her eyes flashing with anger. "I am a person, not a possession."

Thorne expression darkened as she spoke, his eyes narrowing. "Oh but you are," his voice low and menacing. "I an the one who decides what happens to you."

Lica felt a wave of panic wash over her as she stared at the food on the table despondently. She had never felt so powerless before, and the thought of being at his mercy was terrifying. Her voice came out emotionless, "And that would be....?"

A flicker of irritation crossed his face. "That would be whatever I want it to be." He leaned back in his chair, his voice lowering, "And right now, I want you to eat your breakfast."

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