Damian stood in the dim, damp room, looking down at Anastasia’s limp form on the floor. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, he stepped over the shattered glass, knelt down... and effortlessly scooped her up into his arms. She felt terrifyingly light, her head rolling back against his broad shoulder as her bruised, bare feet dangled in the air.
He turned on his heel and walked out of the apartment, leaving her past life behind without a backward glance.
The moment he stepped into the dark hallway, his men... who had been standing guard outside... instantly straightened their postures.
"Start the car," Damian commanded, his voice clipping the quiet air with absolute authority. He kept his stride steady down the creaking stairs, holding her firmly against his chest. "We are staying in Pennsylvania for the next two days. Prepare the private jet for the morning of the third day. We will return to Manhattan then."
"Yes, sir," his lead security detail replied, rushing ahead to open the building’s exit doors.
Outside, a sleek, black luxury vehicle sat idling at the curb. The door was pulled open instantly. Damian slid into the spacious back seat, settling Anastasia carefully onto the mattress-like cushion beside him.
As the car pulled smoothly away from the curb, Damian pulled out his phone. He dialed the estate, his eyes fixed on the raw cuts and dirt covering Ana’s bare feet.
The butler answered on the first ring. "Master Sterling."
"Call the doctor back to the estate," Damian ordered coldly. "Have him waiting by the time we arrive. He needs to treat her wounds."
He paused, his gaze shifting up to her pale, exhausted face, tracing the dark circles under her tightly closed eyes. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his features before his voice hardened again.
"And tell the kitchen to prepare something warm and easy to eat. Have it ready immediately."
"Right away, sir."
Damian ended the call and tossed the phone onto the seat. He leaned back, the quiet hum of the luxury car filling the space as they sped toward his estate. He had broken her will, he had stripped away her defenses and in two days, she would be completely isolated in his world.
________________________
The sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic was the first thing that drifted into Anastasia’s consciousness.
Slowly, her heavy eyelids fluttered open. The room was dark, save for a warm lamp lighting the corner of the master bedroom. The throbbing ache in her feet was gone, replaced by a cool, soothing numbness.
She blinked, looking down to see an elderly doctor bandaging the cuts on her soles. Her gaze drifted to her own arm... a clear plastic tube ran from a needle in her vein up to an IV drip, slowly pumping fluids back into her dehydrated body.
Her eyes traveled past the bed, landing on a towering silhouette by the glass windows.
Damian stood there, his back to her, silently staring out at the distant city lights. He had discarded his suit jacket, his white dress shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders.
As if sensing her gaze, Damian slowly turned his head. His dark, piercing eyes locked onto hers across the dim room. Seeing that she was conscious, his lips curved.
There it was. That damn, winning smirk on his face. The look of a man who had won the game before it even began. Fucking bastard!
The doctor clipped the medical tape securely and stood up, packing his instruments into a leather bag. He bowed slightly toward the window. "The wounds are superficial, Master Sterling. The cream will work quickly. With the IV fluids, she should be fully healed and back on her feet within a day or two."
"Good," Damian murmured, his voice a low baritone. "Leave us, close the door."
The doctor bowed again and quietly exited the room, closing the heavy oak doors with a soft click.
"Congratulations!" Anastasia leaned back against the plush pillows, a bitter, exhausted laugh escaping her throat. She stared at him, her voice dripping with pure mockery. "You must be absolutely thrilled, Damian. Happy to have your prize claimed back so easily?"
Damian didn’t look offended. He slowly walked away from the window, his footsteps silent as he approached the edge of the bed. He stood over her, his shadow completely consuming her small frame.
"You were always my possession to keep, Ana," he said, his chillingly calm and matter of fact tone. "I simply let you run wild for a while. But too much freedom makes a person a brat. It is time to let you know exactly who you belong to."
"Belong?" Anastasia forced a mocking smile onto her face, though her chest ached with a sudden wave of grief for the life she had just lost. "Of course. How silly of me. I should love being right back in my golden cage."
Before Damian could answer, a soft knock sounded at the door. One of the estate’s maids walked in, quietly carrying a silver tray laden with a steaming bowl of chicken soup and warm porridge.
"Food prepared as per your request Master Sterling." She carefully set it on the bedside table, gave a respectful nod... and left as quickly as she had arrived.
The rich, warm aroma of food filled the air, making Ana’s stomach twinge painfully with hunger. She looked at the tray, then back up at him, her body tense.
Damian reached down, his large, warm hand gripping her chin. He tilted her face upward, forcing her to look directly into the dark, bottomless depths of his eyes. His thumb swiped lazily across her lower lip, his touch possessing and heavy.
"You have to eat all of it," Damian commanded softly, a dangerous, predatory glint flashing in his eyes as his smirk returned. "On my command... my slave. Your training period starts now!"
"Training period?" What does he mean by that?
He didn’t move away to let her eat in peace. Instead, he smoothly sat down on the edge of the mattress, his massive frame shifting the bed beneath her. He sat dominantly, closing every inch of distance between them until his chest was practically brushing her knees.
What is he planning to do?
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