Chapter 6

Muna’s eyes scanned the grandeur of the mansion, her mind still reeling from the absurdity of the situation. The lavish chandelier above her sparkled like a thousand stars, casting a soft, golden glow across the marble floors. Every inch of the place seemed crafted to showcase excess—rich mahogany furniture, glistening vases of exotic flowers, and walls lined with portraits that screamed old money.

She couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of disbelief.

Ian’s voice broke her momentary distraction, his words low, teasing. "I know you're just a local girl, not used to anything like this. But don’t worry, Miss Carter. You’ll be staying here while I get my money back from you."

His breath brushed against her skin, cold yet somehow passionate, making her skin prickle with unease.

Muna stiffened, her eyes narrowing as she turned to face him. "That's none of my business," she said flatly, her tone hardening. "Just make sure you don't touch me."

She walked past him, each step measured, the sound of her heels echoing in the spacious foyer. She needed to get away, to clear her head, to not let him get under her skin. The wine cellar was right there, so she moved towards it. The heavy door creaked open, revealing a lavish room filled with rows of bottles—shiny, rich reds and whites that she could never afford.

The sight made her throat dry. She scanned the cellar briefly, trying to focus on something other than Ian’s presence still lingering behind her.

With a frustrated sigh, Muna moved to the fridge, her body tense with every movement. She didn’t even care about the wine. She just needed something cold, something to numb the pit of anxiety gnawing at her stomach. Reaching out, she grabbed the handle and yanked it open, her gaze immediately falling on an ice-cold bottle of water.

But as her fingers closed around the bottle, she heard his footsteps draw near.

"You’re thirsty?" Ian’s voice was smug, almost amused.

Muna straightened, glaring at him. "What’s it to you?"

He was leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, his icy blue eyes studying her. "You seem awfully comfortable here, Miss Carter. It’s almost like you belong in a place like this."

She didn’t answer, instead twisting the cap off the water with more force than necessary. The cool liquid slid down her throat, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in her chest. Her entire body was on edge.

"You know," Ian continued, his voice dangerously soft, "those drinks you’re admiring in the cellar? Each one is worth more than your life. If you wanted to drown your misery in expensive wine, I could arrange that for you."

Muna’s gaze flicked up, meeting his eyes for a moment before she sneered. "You really think I’m that desperate? Just because I’m poor doesn’t mean I’ll fall for your mind games."

Ian pushed off from the doorframe, closing the space between them in a few long strides. Muna felt her pulse quicken as he towered over her. His face was unreadable, though there was something in his eyes—something cold and calculating—that made her stomach churn.

"You’re not poor, Muna," he murmured, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "Not anymore. I bought your mother’s treatment. You’re in debt to me now. And you’ll pay me back—one way or another."

Her heart skipped a beat, the weight of his words sinking in like a stone in her chest. She felt the coldness of his words wrap around her, tightening with each passing second. "You think I’m just going to bow down because you paid for my mother’s treatment?" Her voice was rising, a mix of anger and disbelief. "You’re sick."

Ian’s lips curved into a faint, almost mocking smile. "You can call me whatever you want, but the truth remains: you owe me, and you will repay me in full."

The tension between them crackled like static, thick and unbearable. Muna’s breath came faster, her pulse racing. "How do you expect me to pay you back?" she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "What’s next, you want me to crawl at your feet?"

For a moment, Ian didn’t respond. His gaze remained fixed on her, almost like he was studying her every movement. Muna could feel the weight of his scrutiny, but she refused to break eye contact.

Finally, he spoke, his voice just above a whisper, "No. That would be too easy for you, Miss Carter. I’m not interested in having you crawl. But I do expect you to obey me—completely."

Muna’s jaw clenched, her mind racing. She wasn’t going to let him manipulate her. She wouldn’t let him turn her into some pawn in his game.

"I don’t belong to you, Ian," she spat, her voice fierce and defiant.

"Not yet," Ian replied with a smirk. "But you will. In time."

Muna took a step back, her chest heaving with a mix of fear and rage. She had no idea what kind of power this man wielded, but she knew one thing for sure: she couldn’t let him break her.

"Don’t touch me," she warned again, her voice firm, though her hands trembled slightly as she clutched the bottle of water like a lifeline.

"I don’t need to touch you, Muna," Ian said, his gaze hardening. "You’ll come to me eventually. You have no choice."

A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she shook her head. "You’re delusional. I’ll never be your puppet."

His smile didn’t falter. "We’ll see."

The air in the cellar was suffocating, the tension so thick that Muna thought she might choke on it. She needed to get away, but the looming presence of Ian made it impossible to move freely. His words haunted her like a dark cloud hanging over her head. She had no idea how to escape his web, but for the moment, she refused to let him see her break.

She turned away from him, heading towards the door. "I’m not your slave, Ian. I’m not your property," she said, her voice steady, even as her heart raced.

But his response stopped her in her tracks.

"Then you’ll regret it," he said, his tone low and threatening. "Every step you take from here on out will be a reminder of how much you owe me."