Chapter 4 Could this be love

EMILY

It's been three days since the slap.

Three whole days of darkness, silence, and hunger, I really suffered.

They locked me in a freezing metal room with nothing but a bucket and a glinting lightbulb that buzzed like it was mocking me.

I hadn't eaten. I hadn't bathed. I was losing my mind. My body was giving up. I was dizzy from standing. My lips were cracked and soared, I haven't really eaten for days. My stomach... empty.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw James's face.

That twisted smirk.That quiet storm in his eyes. That... kiss.

I still felt it. On my lips. Like poison I couldn't spit out.

But I hated him. I hated him.

"Open up," a voice barked from outside the door.

I didn't move. The door swung open and the guards stepped in like champions...

They didn't say a word. They just grabbed me roughly like a dumb bag and dragged me by my arms across the hallway. I was too weak to fight. My bare feet brushed the cold concrete, but I barely felt it anymore,I was weak and tired all over.

I was taken into what looked like a luxurious bathroom, marble floors, shining lights, and rose-scented steam. Everything is perfect here.

That's when I saw him.

James Bolton.

Standing by the mirror in a fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled up, watching me through the reflection.

"You look horrible," he said softly, turning around. "Like a dying flower."

"You did this," I muttered, voice raspy and dry filled with anger.

He walked over, lifted my chin, and looked into my eyes. "And I'll fix it. I'll heal what I break, Emily. That's my way."

"I'm not a toy."

He grinned. "No. You're a treasure. And treasures need to be hidden, protected... even if they scream."

I wanted to spit on his face. But I didn't even have enough saliva left in my mouth.

He motioned to the guards. "Clean her. Gently. And bring her to my chamber."

My heart dropped. "Your what?" But he was already gone.

******

Two hours later, I was in his room.

His actual bedroom.

Huge. Dark. With a fireplace that made it feel like a haunted castle. The bed was massive. Black silk sheets. Red roses scattered across it like he was about to host a love party in the bedroom.

I stood there, still damp from the bath, wearing a thin silk robe.

James sat on the edge of the bed, sipping whiskey, eyes glued to me like I was the only thing he could see.

"Come," he said.

I didn't move.

"I said... come here."

My legs moved on their own. Like fear had replaced my bones.

When I stood in front of him, he touched my face again. Gently. Almost like he cared.

"You confuse me, Emily," he whispered. "You hate me... but you're the only thing that keeps me sane."

"I'd rather die than love you."

He smiled. "That's the problem. You will love me. Because I'll make you."

He stood and walked behind me, letting his hand slide across my neck, down my arm. My skin crawled. My fists clenched.

Then he whispered, "Tell me you need me."

"I don't."

He grabbed me suddenly by the waist, spinning me around. "Say it!"

"NO!"

He shoved me onto the bed. Not violently. But enough to make me panic.

He hovered over me, breathing hard, but not touching me yet.

"I could have any woman. But I want you. That should mean something to you, Emily."

I stared at him. "It means I'm cursed."

He leaned in-his lips brushed my ear. "Then let me be your punishment."

I couldn't breathe. My heart slammed in my chest like it was trying to escape.

He kissed my neck.

Soft. Slow. Dangerous.

I let out a broken sob, my body frozen, torn between disgust and... something else I couldn't name, something I can't really phantom.

"I'll never belong to you," I whispered.

He pulled back, face inches from mine.

"I don't need you to belong. I just need you to stay."

And then he kissed me again. But this time, it was harder. Deeper. Possessive.

And I.... SLAP!

I did it again.

My palm echoed in the room like thunder. He stood still. Silent. A red mark on his cheek.

I waited for him to hit me back.

But he didn't. He just... stared at me. His eyes dark. Burning with something I can't really explain.

Then he leaned close and whispered, "I like it when you fight. It makes breaking you even more beautiful."

He turned and walked to the door, pausing with one hand on the knob.

"Oh, and Emily?"

"What?" I spat.

"Tomorrow... we're having dinner. Like a proper couple. Don't make me regret being gentle."

And then he was gone.

Leaving me trembling, confused, burning with hatred... and terrified at how deeply he was getting under my skin......