Chapter 4: The First Rule

I was dreaming of running through a field, free and safe.

Then, the blankets were ripped off me.

I gasped, curling into a ball as the cold morning air hit my skin. I blinked my eyes open.

Damien was standing over the bed. He was already fully dressed in a grey three-piece suit, looking sharp, awake, and dangerous.

"Get up," he said.

I rubbed my eyes, pulling the red silk nightgown down to cover my thighs. "What time is it?"

"5:00 AM," he replied, checking his gold watch. "The day has started."

"But... I’m tired," I mumbled.

Damien leaned down, bracing his hands on the mattress. His face was inches from mine. "I didn't ask how you felt, Elara. I gave you an instruction."

His eyes were cold. "Rule number one of being Mrs. Blackwood: You operate on my schedule."

He straightened up and pointed to a door on the far side of the room. "Get up. Now."

I scrambled out of bed, shivering. My bare feet hit the cold floor. I followed him as he marched toward the door.

He threw it open.

I stopped and stared. It was a walk-in closet, but that wasn't the right word for it. It was the size of a boutique store. Rows of dresses, shoes, and coats lined the walls. Everything was designer. Everything was brand new.

"Where are my clothes?" I asked, looking around for my jeans and t-shirts.

"Gone," Damien said simply.

I spun around to face him. "What?"

"I burned them."

My mouth dropped open. "You... you burned my clothes? Why?"

"Because they were cheap. And they belonged to Elara Vance," he said, walking over to a rack of silk dresses. He ran his hand over the fabric. "Elara Vance doesn't exist anymore. You are Elara Blackwood now. And my wife dresses like a queen."

He pulled out a white dress. It was tight, modest, and looked incredibly restrictive.

He held it out to me.

"Put it on. We have breakfast in twenty minutes."

I stared at the dress. Anger flared in my chest. "And if I say no? If I want to wear what I want?"

Damien dropped the dress on a velvet bench. He took a step toward me. The air in the room suddenly felt very thin.

He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

"Then I will strip you down and dress you like a doll myself," he whispered darkly. "Is that what you want? Do you want me to control your hands, your legs, your zippers?"

His thumb rubbed against my bottom lip. "Because I will enjoy it, Elara. But I don't think you will."

I swallowed hard. My heart was pounding so fast I thought he could hear it. I knew he wasn't lying.

"Fine," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I'll do it."

"Good." He let go of my chin and smirked. "Rule number two: Obedience is always rewarded. Defiance is punished."

He turned and walked to the door.

"Twenty minutes, Elara. Don't be late."

He closed the door.

I stood alone in the room full of expensive clothes, feeling more naked than ever. He had taken my home, my freedom, and now even my own clothes.

I reached for the white dress with shaking hands.

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