Bound To The Monster Who Ruined Me

The heavy brass wheels of the room service cart dragged against the thick carpet.

Ayleen Avery leaned her weight against the cold wall of The Sargon Club's top-floor corridor. Her lungs burned with every breath. Waves of a persistent low-grade fever and dizzy spells sent tremors down her spine, making the opulent hallway spin in her vision.

The walkie-talkie clipped to her apron crackled.

"Avery. Get that wine into the VIP suite now. Stop stalling."

The floor manager's voice was a sharp whip. Ayleen bit her lower lip hard enough to taste copper. She forced her trembling hands back onto the cart's handle.

Suddenly, the corridor lights flickered and died. A circuit failure plunged the hallway into thick shadows.

Ayleen blinked through the dizzying darkness. She pushed the cart forward, every step threatening to drain the absolute last ounce of her strength as her vision occasionally blacked out at the edges, stopping blindly in front of an unmarked door. She thought it was the right suite.

She raised a knuckles to knock, but the heavy wooden door was already ajar.

She pushed it open. A dense wave of cigar smoke and raw male pheromones hit her face.

She stepped inside tentatively. The main lights were off. Heavy blackout curtains suffocated the moonlight, leaving the room pitch black.

Deep in the shadows of the sofa, Cassius Doyle sat frozen.

Three years of chronic insomnia had shredded his nervous system. The sound of footsteps entering his sanctuary made his muscles snap tight. His eyes locked onto the silhouette at the door.

Ayleen took another step. Her knee slammed into the sharp edge of a glass coffee table.

She let out a sharp gasp of pain.

That tiny sound snapped the last thread of Cassius's sanity.

He exploded from the darkness like a provoked beast. He crossed the carpet in three massive strides and clamped his hand around Ayleen's wrist. His grip was bone-crushing.

Ayleen was yanked forward. Her feet left the floor.

She crashed hard into a wall of solid, burning muscle. The scream died in her throat.

She thrashed wildly, pushing at his chest. Cassius simply twisted both her wrists behind her back with one hand, pinning her against him.

His ragged breathing scorched the skin of her neck.

He was going to throw the intruder out. But then, it hit him.

A faint, elegant scent of roses and rain radiated from her skin. It flooded his senses.

Instantly, the splitting agony in his skull stopped. The relentless noise in his brain went dead silent.

Pure, animalistic instinct took over. Cassius let out a low growl. He dipped his head and crushed his mouth over hers.

Ayleen's fever-addled brain short-circuited. She whimpered, biting down hard on his lip to defend herself.

The taste of blood only made him more ruthless. He plundered her mouth, completely overpowering her.

He scooped her up into his arms. Ayleen kicked her legs in the air, but he carried her to the bedroom effortlessly and threw her onto the massive mattress.

In the pitch black, fabric ripped.

Ayleen squeezed her eyes shut. Hot tears slid into her hair. She was drowning in a violent storm she couldn't fight.

Hours later, the storm broke.

Wrapped tightly in Ayleen's scent, Cassius closed his eyes. For the first time in three years, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Dawn bled through the edges of the curtains.

Ayleen jerked awake. Her entire body ached, a brutal reminder of the nightmare she had just lived.

She turned her head. The man beside her was fast asleep, his face buried in the pillows. The dim light hid his features, but the sheer size of him sent a fresh wave of terror through her veins.

Ignoring the tearing pain between her thighs, Ayleen crawled off the bed.

She grabbed her torn uniform from the floor and pulled it over her shivering body.

In her blind panic, she didn't feel the antique rose-carved necklace around her neck catch on the bedsheet's fringe. The silver chain snapped. It slipped away silently.

Ayleen ran barefoot across the carpet. She bolted out of the bedroom, abandoned the cart, and fled through the front door.

She sprinted down the hallway and threw herself into the service elevator.

As the doors closed, she slid down the cold metal wall, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed until she couldn't breathe.

She ran out the back exit of the club. Manhattan's torrential rain instantly soaked her to the bone. She flagged down a cab and vanished into the storm.

Back in the VIP suite, Cassius frowned. The soothing warmth in his arms was gone.

He snapped awake.

He sat up and swept his hand across the sheets. They were cold. The woman who had given him silence was gone.

Cassius threw off the covers. His dark eyes scanned the room.

A glint of metal on the mattress caught his attention.

He leaned over and picked up the antique rose-carved necklace. His gaze darkened, turning dangerous.

He closed his fist around the metal. He walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows and ripped the heavy curtains open.

Harsh morning light hit his cold face. He picked up his phone and dialed his assistant's encrypted number.

"Adrian," Cassius ordered, staring at the rain. "Lock down the club. Find the woman who was in my room last night. Tear the city apart if you have to."

Adrian Fletcher hung up the phone. He signaled the bodyguards, and they immediately locked the heavy glass doors of The Sargon Club.

The lobby manager sprinted over, sweating through his suit.

Adrian ignored the man's stammering. He bypassed the lobby and marched straight into the security control room.

Inside, a technician hammered on a keyboard. He pulled up the camera feed for the top-floor VIP corridor.

The screen showed nothing but static.

"The circuit blew last night," the manager wiped his forehead with a trembling hand. "The cameras were fried."

Adrian's eyes turned lethal. He grabbed the manager by the collar and slammed him against the monitors.

"If you don't find the woman who entered that suite, this entire club will be leveled by tomorrow."

The manager's knees buckled. "The schedule! Get the shift schedule from HR!"

An HR supervisor rushed in, handing over a crumpled piece of paper. The manager pointed a shaking finger at a highlighted row.

"Haleigh Delaney. Her shift schedule shows she was the primary staff assigned to the VIP suite's routine service last night."

Avery was just temporarily sent up to deliver wine and wasn't officially logged on the top-floor roster.

"We only found Haleigh at first glance, I swear it."

Adrian snapped a photo of the name. "Where is she?"

"Breakroom," the manager gasped into his walkie-talkie.

Down in the staff breakroom, Haleigh Delaney was applying bright red lipstick in the mirror. The intercom barked her name. She frowned.

The second she stepped out of the room, two massive men in black suits grabbed her arms. They dragged her toward the VIP elevators. Haleigh screamed, her face pale with panic.

Inside the top-floor suite, Cassius sat on the sofa. He wore a custom-tailored suit. Smoke curled from the cigarette between his fingers, failing to mask the violent impatience in his eyes.

The door opened. Adrian shoved Haleigh inside.

Haleigh looked up. When she saw Cassius's god-like, sculpted face, her breath hitched.

Cassius narrowed his eyes. He scanned her up and down, searching for that phantom scent of roses and rain.

Instead, a cloud of cheap, synthetic vanilla perfume hit his nose. His stomach churned with disgust. He crushed the cigarette into an ashtray.

"Were you in this room last night?" Cassius's voice was ice.

Haleigh opened her mouth to deny it. But then, her eyes darted to the coffee table.

Resting next to the ashtray was a silver necklace carved with a rose.

It was Ayleen's. Her roommate's most prized possession.

Greed swallowed Haleigh's fear in a split second. She bit her lip, forced tears into her eyes, and nodded slowly.

Cassius's expression darkened. He stood up and closed the distance between them. The sheer physical dominance radiating from him made Haleigh's legs give out. She dropped to her knees.

Cassius gripped her chin, tilting her face up. He studied her features. There was no spark. No peace. A violent surge of irritable confusion rose in his chest. He couldn't smell that unique scent of roses and rain on her at all. But the necklace was the only physical evidence left in his room. Could she have used a different perfume last night? Or... He forcibly suppressed his deep-seated suspicions, deciding to keep her close under his strict observation for now.

He picked up the necklace and tossed it into Haleigh's lap.

"Since it was you, I will take responsibility," Cassius said, his tone devoid of any human warmth. "But do not expect anything more than what I give you."

Haleigh clutched the necklace to her chest. She kept her head down to hide her manic smile and nodded weakly.

Cassius turned to Adrian. "Set her up in a high-end apartment. Put a detail on her."

He walked out of the suite without looking back.

Adrian gestured coldly toward the door. Haleigh stood up, straightened her spine, and strutted out of the corridor she used to clean.

Miles away, Ayleen dragged her broken body into her cramped apartment. She collapsed onto the narrow twin bed, shivering violently.

She forced herself into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, scrubbing her skin until it was raw. She stared at the red bruises on her neck in the mirror. Humiliation choked her.

She reached for her collarbone to find comfort.

Her fingers met empty skin.

The necklace. Her mother's only relic. It was gone.

All the blood drained from Ayleen's face. She ran to her torn uniform on the floor, ripping the pockets inside out. Nothing.

She dropped to her knees. It had to be in that suite. But the thought of going back to that monster made her stomach heave.

Suddenly, her cell phone screamed from the nightstand.

The caller ID flashed: Brenda. Her adoptive mother.

Ayleen swiped to answer.

Brenda's hysterical sobbing blasted through the speaker. "Ayleen! Your father was in a crash! The sky is falling!"

Ayleen didn't even grab an umbrella. She sprinted out of the apartment building and threw herself into a cab, screaming at the driver to get to Manhattan Central Hospital.

She burst through the emergency room doors. The sharp smell of bleach hit her nose. She scanned the chaotic crowd frantically.

At the end of the corridor, outside the surgical wing, Brenda was slumped on a plastic chair, shaking uncontrollably. Ayleen ran to her.

Brenda lunged forward, her fingernails digging deep into Ayleen's arm. "Duard hit a limited-edition sports car! He destroyed it!"

A man in a sharp suit stepped out from the shadows. He was a lawyer. He handed Ayleen a thick stack of papers.

"The damages exceed three million dollars," the lawyer said, his voice flat. "If the compensation isn't wired immediately, Mr. Avery will face bankruptcy and severe criminal charges for reckless endangerment."

Ayleen stared at the astronomical number. Black spots danced in her vision. Her knees buckled, and her back slammed against the wall to keep from falling.

Brenda burst into fresh tears. "We raised you! We fed you! It's time you pay us back, Ayleen! You have to save him!"

Ayleen bit her lip so hard it bled. The metallic taste grounded her. She pulled out her phone and dialed the investors of her small tech startup.

Call after call went to voicemail. The moment they heard the Avery name was tied to a multi-million dollar lawsuit, they vanished like ghosts.

Across town, Haleigh sat in the back of a luxury town car arranged by Adrian. She twirled the rose necklace around her finger, a vicious smile on her lips.

Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Ayleen: Did you see my necklace in the breakroom? Please.

Haleigh's eyes gleamed with malice. Despite being stung by Cassius's terrifying coldness just moments ago, the mere thought of trampling Ayleen under her six-inch heels gave her a sick, twisted sense of satisfaction. She needed Ayleen to know that even if she was currently being given the cold shoulder, her situation was still infinitely better than Ayleen's pathetic life. She blocked Ayleen's number immediately. She opened Instagram and posted a selfie with the caption: Living in the clouds.

The town car pulled up to a luxury high-rise on the Upper East Side. Haleigh stepped onto the plush lobby carpet, her vanity fully fed.

Back at the hospital, the red light above the operating room shut off. A doctor walked out. "He's stable. But we need the surgical fees paid in full right now."

Ayleen checked her banking app. A red banner flashed across the screen. The banking system had detected the massive liability lawsuit tied to the Avery group and, acting on strict risk control protocols, had unilaterally frozen all withdrawal privileges on the accounts. She had nothing.

Desperate, Ayleen decided to sell her personal patents. She turned and sprinted out of the hospital doors.

As her foot hit the bottom step, a massive black Rolls-Royce glided to a halt, blocking her path entirely.

The tinted window rolled down. Mr. Watts, the Doyle family butler, stared at her with dead eyes. "Get in."

Ayleen stepped back in panic. Two massive bodyguards materialized behind her. They grabbed her shoulders and shoved her into the spacious backseat.

The doors locked with a heavy thud. Ayleen beat her fists against the glass.

Mr. Watts handed her a tissue. "Madam Matilda wishes to see you."

The Rolls-Royce drove into a hidden, sprawling estate. Ayleen was marched into an antique study. The air was thick with the smell of sandalwood.

Matilda Doyle sat behind a mahogany desk. She calmly rolled a string of wooden prayer beads between her fingers. Her eyes dragged over Ayleen like she was inspecting a cheap piece of meat.

"Why did you kidnap me?" Ayleen demanded, her voice shaking.

Matilda laughed. It was a dry, venomous sound. She tossed a thick legal binder onto the desk.

"Marry my stepson," Matilda commanded. "And I will wipe the Avery debt clean."

Ayleen's eyes widened in horror. "No. I won't sell myself."

Matilda didn't flinch. She tapped a tablet screen. A security video played. It showed Duard Avery trying to flee the scene of the crash before collapsing.

"If you refuse," Matilda's voice dropped to a lethal whisper, "this video goes to the police. Your father will die in a prison cell."

Ayleen's fists clenched. Her nails dug into her palms until the skin broke. She stared at her pathetic father on the screen. Her mental defenses shattered into dust.

The study fell into a suffocating silence.

Ayleen closed her eyes. A single tear slipped down her cheek.

"I agree," she whispered. Her voice was completely broken.