Scarlett POV:
I should have been expecting it, but hearing the words from his mouth still sent a jolt of shock through me.
I pulled away, staring into his dark, gorgeous yet empty eyes.
"What?" I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.
"You heard me right, pony. Be my woman for three months, and all your wishes will be granted," he said casually, as if it was nothing.
Before I could respond, he spoke again, his tone turning serious—a warning, actually.
"But be warned. I don't do love. Only pleasure." His words hit me like a slap, and for some reason, they hurt. Maybe it was because Jason had used me for the same thing—or maybe it was something else entirely. But the sting of his words dug deep into my chest.
I looked up at him, my gaze locking with his. His eyes were as cold as ever, but I dared to look him in the eye.
"You can rest assured, Mr. Grey," I said, my voice steady, though I could feel the bitterness rising in me. "I have no intention of falling in love, especially with you. Once I get my revenge and find my father's murderer, I'll leave your life without a trace."
I watched for his reaction, but there was none. Instead, he gave me a smug, proud smirk, as if he found amusement in my words.
"Wonderful," he said, turning away and heading for the shower.
I watched him go, my emotions a tangled mess of frustration and confusion. Turning, I left the room and went downstairs for dinner.
Dinner was peaceful, as usual. He rarely came down to eat; he preferred having his meals in his room.
After finishing my own meal, I returned upstairs and headed straight for my room.
I was stuffed, and the thought of sex on a full stomach didn't seem appealing. Still, the reality hit me—we were going to have sex tonight, and every night after that.
God, Scarlett, what were you thinking when you agreed to this? I should have negotiated. I scolded myself internally, the thought of what was to come making my stomach churn.
By the end of the month, I'd probably be begging for mercy.
Should I talk to him? Suggest we start tomorrow instead? Nah, I don't think he'd agree.
What should I do?
I flopped onto the bed, trying to come up with a plan. Then, an idea struck me.
Jumping out of bed, I sneaked out of my room and made my way to the fourth floor.
I checked carefully to make sure no one was around before I quietly opened one of the bedroom doors and slipped inside, locking it behind me.
Nice plan, Scarlett, I thought to myself, smiling as I closed the door.
Xavier POV:
I had just finished making a call and checked the time. It had been more than five minutes, and yet Scarlett was still not back.
I couldn't help but wonder—is she planning something stupid?
I went downstairs and began scanning the house for her. No sign of her anywhere.
"Where's Scarlett?" I asked the maid who had just come out of the kitchen.
"She just finished eating. She should be in her room."
In her room? That's where she's supposed to be.
I headed straight to her room, but she wasn't there.
Gosh, Scarlett, I thought, you're playing with fire, and I'm going to enjoy watching you burn.
I headed to the security room, where the CCTV footage was monitored.
Inside, about ten of my men were working, each one operating different surveillance monitors. They stood up and greeted me with small bows when they noticed me.
I ignored them and walked forward.
"Play the last footage you have of Scarlett," I ordered.
One of the men at the side tapped some keys on his keyboard, pulling up the footage.
I leaned in, watching the screen, and couldn't help but smile.
So, she thinks she's hiding from me, huh? In my own house?
"Boss, should I go get her?" one of the men asked.
"I didn't ask you," I snapped.
"Sorry," he quickly muttered, bowing his head.
Let her hide. I enjoy the hunt.
She'd turned me on, and now she dares to run away. She was going to pay.
With a devilish smile on my lips, I turned and headed back to my room.
⏱⏱⏱
Scarlett POV:
The morning sun shone brightly through the window, its light spilling over my face. I blinked a few times, struggling to adjust.
When my eyes fully opened, I froze.
There, inches from my face, were a pair of dark, almost predatory eyes, staring at me.
I gasped, panic surging through me, and tried to move, but... I couldn't.
What the—?
I tugged against the restraints, but I was chained to the bed.
"What the heck?" I shouted, now more confused than frightened. "It's not right to just tie me up whenever you like. I'm not an animal!"
He didn't respond right away. Instead, he leaned closer, his eyes burning with a fury that made my blood run cold.
"One more word from you, and I'll make a hole through your lips and lock it with a padlock," he warned in a deadly tone.
I gasped. My confidence instantly disappeared, replaced by a knot of fear.
"Good girl," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, before dragging me by my hair so I was forced to look at him.
"What were my instructions last night?" he asked, his grip on my hair tightening painfully.
I hissed in pain.
"I'm sorry, I was already tired," I replied, but my apology only seemed to make him angrier.
His grip tightened even more, and I screamed out in pain.
"I didn't ask if you were sorry," he growled, grabbing my jaw and forcing me to face him. "I asked what I instructed you last night."
"To eat and come back within five minutes," I gasped, struggling to breathe.
"And what did you do instead?"
"I ran away," I admitted, the guilt sinking in as I looked at him.
He shoved me away, letting go of my jaw with a flick of his wrist.
"Do you know what happens to people who don't follow my instructions?" he asked, his smile dark and predatory.
I shook my head quickly, panic rising. "I don't want to know! Please, I'm sorry. I won't do it again!" I cried, the images of what he might do flashing through my mind.
He smiled coldly. "Good. But know this—the next time you try that shit, I'll snap your neck. Don't think I'm forgiving you just because you're sorry. You'll pay for this... in bed."
I nodded rapidly, not daring to argue.
I rubbed my neck, gasping for air and coughing. But he didn't care. No trace of sympathy in his eyes.
Without another word, he threw a document at me. It hit me in the face, almost striking my eye before landing on my thigh.
"It's our fake marriage certificate. Sign it before I get back," he ordered, his voice cold and commanding.
I looked at the paper, confused. "What! This wasn't part of the deal," I asked, my voice small.
"I didn't ask for your opinion," he replied flatly, his eyes narrowing. "Just do as I say and don't test my patience."
And with that, he turned and walked out of the room.
Thank goodness he's gone, I thought. At least I could breathe now.
But then, a horrible realization hit me.
I began shouting for him to come back, but there was no response.
How the hell am I supposed to sign these papers when my hands are tied?
Oh no... What do I do?