Page 3 of Possessed
"The terms of this contract start tonight," he says. "I'll have your things moved to my house. You will stay with me. You'll begin work tomorrow, and we'll go from there."
"But..." I can barely keep up. "What..?"
Dante holds up a hand to silence me. "I'll answer any questions you have tomorrow. Tonight, we dine. The contract is signed, and you are mine."
"But—" I try again.
"Shh." Dante shakes his head. "You agreed to never tell me no. This is our first lesson in how things will be. Now, relax and enjoy your meal."
I sit back, reeling. This is not what I expected. But the contract is signed. And I'm already starting to wonder if it was worth it.
2
DANTE
Two years haven't changed Isla Cross at all. If anything, it's only made her more irresistible.
The last time I saw her was at a charity dinner that I was invited to attend. Her father was there, too, and he had brought his daughter as his plus one.
I had noticed her laugh first, high and clear and genuine, not quiet and controlled like everyone else who was too concerned with appearances. I remember turning, immediately forgetting whatever investor I was talking to, and being captivated. In a room full of carefully polished and put-together people, Isla was so bright and alive that she almost didn't seem real. Her hair was caught in a single band, curling down her back, shimmering honey-blond instead of dyed platinum. Isla is petite, and the royal blue, floor-length dress she wore was modest enough for the event, but showed me how sinfully curvy she is. Apart from everything else, it was her sweet, heart-shaped face that had me bordering on obsession before we even spoke a word to each other.
Her dress brought out her eyes like two sapphires, and her lips were glossy pink, full and bow-shaped as she laughed. She was beautiful, but not in the same way most women are. There was an innocence to Isla, a warmth, and as I watched her interact with her father, I could see how much she cared about him. It told me Isla loved and cared with her entire heart, and I knew from that moment forward that I wanted that love all for myself.
When she'd walked into the bistro less than an hour ago, her dress had been shorter, but I sure as hell wasn't going to complain about being able to see the length of her long, shapely legs. Her hair was loose, tumbling around her shoulders. She was stunning. And when I finally saw the sparkle of fear in her eyes when she looked at me, I was filled with a possessiveness I'd never felt before.
I've always liked pretty things. Beautiful things. That's why I have the house I do, the cars, the yacht, the contracts I make people sign. But with Isla, I don't want to simply own her. I don't want to just admire her. I want to devour her. I want her to be mine. And now she is.
Isla is quiet as she eats, and I can see her stealing glances at me under her long lashes. I can tell she's dying to ask me a million things, but that's all going to have to wait. Getting her back to my penthouse and settled in is my top priority. I can't give her too long to mull over what the contract she's signed really means, or she might balk. Isla won't be able to get away from me, but this will be much more enjoyable for both of us if she comes along willingly.
I ordered for both of us, filets with au gratin potatoes and asparagus, and I'm happy to see that she eats without complaint. She's less enthusiastic about the wine, but that's okay. I'll learn her preferences soon enough.
Once we're done, I stand up first, offering her my hand. She looks at it like it's a snake about to strike, but slowly reaches out and lets me help her to her feet. It's the longest touch we've exchanged thus far, and the energy crackles like a live wire. There is a measure of bravery in my Isla that I'm coming to recognize, and it pleases me greatly. There are no tears, very few complaints, and her hand on my arm isn't exactly relaxed, but she isn't stiff with fear, either.
I keep my hand on hers as we exit the restaurant. Outside, a sleek black car is waiting, and my driver comes around to open the door. Isla hesitates, looking up at me.
"Where are we going?" she asks, her voice quiet.
"Your new home for the next three months. My penthouse overlooking Elliot Bay."
Isla swallows and looks away as she folds herself into the vehicle. I follow, and she doesn't respond until the door is shut and we're on the road. "I guess I was holding on to hope that when you said 'live with you', you meant on a property you own or something. But we're really staying in the same apartment, huh?"
"Yes. But I'll let you use the guest room for the first week or so."
Her head whips towards me, her jewel-toned eyes wide. "What happens after the first week?"
I laugh quietly, "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
She opens her mouth to respond, but I shake my head, cutting her off. "No more questions. You can see your new room once we arrive. And you can sleep there for the time being. Then tomorrow we'll get your new life in order.
"My new life? This is just for a few months!"
"I think I've made myself clear, Isla," I say warningly, despite being secretly pleased at the fire she's showing. "The only thing I want to hear out of your mouth right now is 'thank you'."
"But—"
I raise an eyebrow at her, and she closes her mouth, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. A flush rises to her cheeks, and I watch as she fights with herself to respond the way I told her to. I can almost see her mind racing.
Isla's lips press together, then part again. She breathes out, and then says, "Thank you, Dante."
