Chapter 2: The First Rule
The ink was barely dry on the contract when Isla realized she had underestimated Damien Wolff.
The sleekness of the room suddenly felt suffocating. Glass, steel and shadows. Power pulsed through every surface like static in the air. She sat in the black leather chair across from him and her spine straight but her pulse erratic. The silence between them wasn’t idle, it was loaded, electric, a slow-burning fuse threatening to ignite at the smallest spark.
The weight of her signature on that paper felt heavier than any chain. She had handed him more than a year of her life; she had handed him herself and now, with each passing second, the gravity of what she had done threatened to crush her.
Damien leaned back in his chair with the ease of a predator watching its prey settle into the snare. His silver eyes didn’t just look at her, they consumed her. They were cold, sharp and assessing. The kind of gaze that could peel back layers without ever touching skin.
“Let’s get a few things straight,” he said, voice smooth as whiskey but laced with iron.
Isla swallowed hard. Her mouth was dry, and her hands curled into the arms of the chair to keep from fidgeting. She knew better than to show weakness, especially now. “I’m listening,” she said, keeping her tone level, even as unease curled like smoke in her stomach.
His fingers began to drum against the polished mahogany desk, slow and deliberate. Each tap felt like a countdown. “Rule number one: You belong to me for the next year. That means your time, your attention and your loyalty are mine.”
Her heart skipped. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the implication of those words, “ belong”, as if she were property. Something inside her recoiled, the fire of her defiance sparking in her chest.
“I agreed to work for you,” she said, voice sharper now and more grounded. “Not to be owned.”
He smirked, but there was no kindness in it. “You agreed to my terms, sweetheart. If that makes you uncomfortable, you should’ve read the fine print.”
Isla’s jaw clenched. Her pride wanted to lash out, to throw his arrogance back in his face. But her logic reminded her of the stakes. Her father’s debts, thus, the danger of walking away now. So she swallowed her fury and stared him down.
Damien stood, slow and fluid, the motion more panther than man. He rounded the desk, each step a quiet thunderclap in the room. As he moved, the air shifted and became thicker, tighter and ultimately more dangerous.
“Rule number two,” he said, voice now lower, more intimate, like a whisper that cut through bone. “No lies. I don’t tolerate dishonesty. If you deceive me, even once, the deal is off.”
A chill coiled down her spine, not just from his words but from something underneath them. Something colder and way darker. There was steel in his tone, yes, but also a threat. One she couldn’t quite name.
She forced herself to lift her chin, her voice steadier than she felt. “And rule number three?”
He stopped behind her, the space between them vanishing. She didn’t dare turn her head, but she felt him. The heat of his body, the energy rolling off of him like a storm pressed just behind her back. Every nerve in her body woke up, alert and aware.
His voice brushed her ear, velvet laced with danger. “You do exactly as I say.”
Her breath caught. His scent enveloped her, cedar, smoke, and something uniquely male. It was intoxicating and maddening. A mix of everything her instincts warned her to stay away from, yet something deeper, older, more primal, was whispering and convincing her to stay.
She turned slightly in her chair, her eyes finding his over her shoulder. The silver in them gleamed with something unreadable; power, amusement and control.
“And what if I break your rules?” she asked, her voice quieter now. Not soft, not afraid, but rather curious and reckless.
His fingers moved along the back of her chair, the touch as light as a whisper but charged with possessive and intentional meaning. His lips curved, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Then, Isla…” His voice was silk dipped in darkness. “You’ll find out exactly what happens when you disobey me.”
The promise in his tone wrapped around her like a velvet noose, seductive and suffocating all at once.
A shiver raced down her spine. Not just from fear or desire, but from the overwhelming certainty that this was no ordinary arrangement. That her life, the very rhythm of it, had already begun to shift, tilting toward something wild and unknown.
She had signed a contract with a man who played by his own rules and something told her… she was already playing with fire, and she did love heat.