Collins pulled up to the nondescript high-rise, and the car glided to a stop. He got out, walked around to Isabella's side, and opened the door. "Shall we?" he asked, offering his hand. Isabella hesitated, her heart racing. But Collins' eyes seemed to bore into her soul, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. She took his hand, and he pulled her out of the car. As they walked towards the entrance, Isabella's eyes scanned the building. It looked like any other high-rise, but something about it seemed off. The windows seemed too dark, too reflective. And the entrance... it seemed too secure. Collins led her through the heavily guarded entrance and into a lavish lobby. Marble floors and crystal chandeliers gleamed in the light, and the air was thick with the scent of cigar smoke and fine whiskey. Isabella's eyes widened as Collins pulled her past the reception desk and into a private elevator. The doors slid shut behind them, and they began to ascend. "Where are we going?" Isabella
As the meeting adjourned, Isabelle's gaze darted to Collins, her mind racing with uncertainty. A mafia boss? How did her life become entangled with a criminal organization? The police's leniency suddenly made sense. She was now a pawn in Collins' game, bound by her pledge at the police station."Let's go, Pookie," Collins said, rising from his seat with a commanding presence. Isabelle's voice caught in her throat. "To where?" Collins' grin widened. "Home, Pookie." He took her hand, leading her out of the room like a captive. Isabelle remained silent, her loyalty feigned as she followed the mafia lord to his domain. They returned to the car, and Collins drove them back to his opulent four-story mansion. As they entered the mansion, Collins led Isabelle through the opulent halls, her heart racing with every step. She couldn't believe she had agreed to this arrangement, binding herself to a man she hardly knew. The lavish decorations and priceless artwork seemed to mock her, reminder
Isabelle and Collins entered the grand hall, their eyes scanning the room for a place to sit. They spotted two vacant chairs and made their way towards them, the soft rustle of their clothes echoing through the silent hall. As they sat down, Mr. Lincoln, the host of the evening, began to speak. "Ladies and gentlemen, dear friends, I welcome you to my humble abode. Tonight, I am thrilled to showcase my most prized possessions: my artifacts and treasures." The room was quiet, the only sound the soft creaking of chairs and the gentle hum of anticipation. Mr. Lincoln's eyes twinkled with excitement as he continued, "But first, let us begin with a traditional masquerade ball dance. Please, rise and take your partners!" The room erupted into a flurry of movement as guests stood and reached for their masks. Collins turned to Isabelle, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. "Shall we?" he asked, his voice low and husky. As Collins' hand enveloped hers, Isabelle's heart fluttered like
Isabelle's mind raced with confusion and worry as Collins carried her away from the ball, his team following closely behind. She struggled to break free, but his grip was unyielding. Trapped, she felt helpless.They entered a car, and Collins settled beside her, his gaze locked onto hers. Despite her attempts to look away, she was inexplicably drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. Upon arriving at a large house, Collins lifted her from the car and carried her up to his room on the fourth floor.Panic surged within her as she realized she was alone with him. She wondered why being close to him made her feel like she was about to lose control. Was it something he was doing, or just her own fear? Determined not to close her eyes—afraid of what he might do if she fell unconscious—she fought against the heaviness of sleep. "What's happening?" she managed to whisper."It's my perfume," Collins replied, his voice low and husky. "It has a sedative effect."Isabelle's eyes widened in realizat
Collins pulled Isabelle into an embrace, aware of the emotional trauma she was experiencing. Collins pulled Isabelle into an embrace, his arms wrapping around her like a vice. She tried to push him away, but he held her tight, his grip unyielding. "Don't struggle, Pookie," he whispered, his voice low and menacing. "I'm only trying to help you." Isabelle's mind raced as she tried to think of a way to escape. She knew she had to be careful, as Collins seemed to have a sixth sense for detecting her attempts to flee. She decided to play along, pretending to accept his embrace, all the while secretly searching for a way out. As Collins held her close, Isabelle felt a wave of revulsion wash over her. She hated being in his arms, hated the way he made her feel like a prisoner. But she knew she had to keep up the charade, at least for now. "Let me go, Collins," she whispered, trying to sound convincing. "Space? You don't need space, Pookie. You need me. I'm the only one who can keep you sa
Isabelle finally broke free from the romantic trance and Collins left the room, leaving her breathless and shaken. She tried to stand up but her legs were still trembling from the intense moment they shared. She knew she couldn't do anything about him, but she still had a glimmer of hope that she could escape from this "lord of seduction."As she looked around the room, her eyes landed on a flashy object on the bed. She stretched to pick it up and her eyes widened in surprise. "It was a ring!" Collins must have dropped it there for her to put on. She started crying again, feeling disappointed and trapped. This was not how she imagined receiving her marriage ring. She had always dreamed of a romantic proposal, not a forced engagement with a man who seemed to care little for her feelings.The ring was beautiful, a pure white diamond that shone brightly. But she was angry and hurt, and she threw the ring away, declaring, "I won't be seen wearing that!" She lay back on her bed, trying to
As they glided through the vibrant streets of New York City, Isabelle's gaze wandered to a mysterious shop that seemed out of place among the skyscrapers. The sign above the door read "Read Your Future" in bold, mystical letters. Despite her skepticism, a spark of curiosity ignited within her. She leaned forward, her voice barely above a whisper, "Kelvin, stop the car." The vehicle came to a smooth halt, and Isabelle stepped out onto the sidewalk. The shop's entrance beckoned her like a siren's call. She pushed open the door, and a bell above it rang out, announcing her arrival. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of incense, and the soft glow of candles cast an otherworldly ambiance. An elderly woman, her eyes wise and knowing, greeted Isabelle with a warm smile. "Welcome, child. I sense you're seeking answers." Isabelle's eyes roamed the shelves, adorned with strange artifacts and tarot cards. "I'll have a destiny reading, please," she said, her voice firm but her heart racing
Isabelle's eyes fluttered open, groggily taking in her surroundings. She was lying on the cold, hard floor, her brown eyes darting around the dimly lit room in a panic. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and sweat, and the only sound was the faint hum of music from the club beyond the door.As she struggled to sit up, her head spun, and her stomach churned. She felt weak and disoriented, her mind foggy from the effects of the perfume. But she knew she had to move, had to escape. With a surge of adrenaline, she pushed herself up from the floor, her hands shaking as she tried to steady herself.That was when she saw him.Alexander, his chiseled body wrapped only in a towel, his black eyes fixed on her with a hunger that made her skin crawl. He moved towards her with a predator's grace, his muscles rippling beneath his skin.Isabelle's heart raced as she tried to scramble to her feet, but her body felt heavy and unresponsive. Alexander pounced, grabbing her and slamming her back o
A suffocating silence settled between them, thick with unanswered questions. The night air was cold, but Isabelle felt nothing but the burning weight of Collins’ words pressing against her chest.Bound.Trapped.No escape.The words rang in her head like church bells tolling her doom.She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to stand tall. “I don’t believe you,” she said, her voice sharper than she felt. “I don’t believe in any of this binding nonsense.”Collins didn’t even look surprised. He simply tilted his head, watching her with something close to amusement. “That’s the thing, pookie. It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not.”The doors to the mansion creaked open.A tall man in a dark suit stepped forward, his face eerily blank. “Welcome home, sir. The preparations have been made.”Preparations.A chill ran down Isabelle’s spine.Collins turned back to her, his expression unreadable. “Shall we?”She took a step back, every instinct screami
The Wedding TrapThe car moved steadily through the darkened streets, leaving behind the glittering lights of the wedding hall. Isabelle sat rigid, her breath shallow, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might crack her ribs. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run—but there was nowhere to go. Not yet. Not until she understood what Collins had done.The weight of his words lingered in the air like a storm cloud. The rules have activated, cookie.She clenched her fists. “Collins, if you don’t explain what’s going on, I swear I will make your life a living hell.”Collins let out a low laugh, rubbing his temple as if her voice was the real source of his headache. “You’re cute when you’re mad,” he mused.“Try furious.”“Try trapped.” His voice turned flat, void of the drunken playfulness from earlier. His dark eyes flicked toward her, and for the first time that night, she saw something cold lurking beneath them.Isabelle swallowed, but she refused to let him see her fear. “
Collins attempted to focus on her, his expression a mix of regret and defiance. "None of your business, pookie," he slurred. Isabelle's jaw dropped in disbelief, but before she could respond, Collins staggered up to the altar. The officiant, looking uncomfortable but dutiful, stepped forward to proceed with the ceremony. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..." the officiant began, but his voice was drowned out by the shocked murmurs of the crowd. Isabelle felt a wave of nausea and dread wash over her as Collins took her hand, his grip unsteady. She could barely focus on the words being spoken, her mind racing with confusion and fear. "Do you, Isabelle, take Collins to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live?" the officiant asked. Isabelle hesitated, glancing at the crowd. Her mother, Stacy, and Kelvin all looked at her with worry etched on their faces. She took a deep breath and n
The officiant nodded respectfully and stepped aside. Isabelle took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. The guests began to move toward the reception area, their whispers a constant reminder of the humiliation she was enduring. She felt a mixture of relief and frustration, knowing that she had no choice but to wait for Collins' explanation. Vivian and the other family members stayed close, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity. Isabelle's mother and Stacy flanked her, offering silent support as she tried to navigate the emotional storm brewing inside her. "I can't believe this is happening," Isabelle muttered to Stacy, who gave her a sympathetic smile. "I know it's hard, but we have to trust that Collins has a good reason," Stacy replied. "And remember, we're here for you no matter what." Isabelle nodded, though the knot of anxiety in her stomach refused to loosen. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The day had been a whirlwind of emotio
Minutes turned into hours, and yet Collins never appeared. The murmurs from the crowd began as quiet whispers, but soon they grew louder, filling the grand wedding hall with a low hum of gossip and speculation. Isabelle stood at the altar, her heart pounding and her mind racing with confusion and dread. She could feel the stares of the guests, their eyes boring into her with judgment and pity. "What is this man doing?" Isabelle muttered under her breath, her voice trembling. She tightened her hands around the small bouquet she held, the knuckles turning white from the pressure. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice, the ground beneath her feet threatening to give way at any moment. The grand doors of the hall opened, drawing everyone's attention. Isabelle turned to see a group of rich-looking people entering. They carried an air of authority and wealth, their presence commanding immediate respect from those around them. Two older couples and a middle-aged couple wa
As Isabelle stepped into the grand wedding hall, her eyes fell upon the variety of people who had gathered to witness her union with Collins. The hall was a sea of elegant dresses and sharp suits, with the scent of fresh flowers mingling with the faint hum of conversation. The decorations were breathtaking, a testament to the care and attention that had gone into planning this day. Her gaze drifted over the crowd, and suddenly, she spotted two familiar faces that made her heart skip a beat. Her mother, dressed in a beautiful deep blue gown, stood next to her best friend, Stacy, who was wearing a stunning bridesmaid dress that complemented Isabelle's own bridal gown. The sight of them filled her with a rush of emotions—joy, confusion, and relief all mingling together. Isabelle's eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't seen her mother or Stacy since she had been taken by Collins, and their sudden appearance here at her wedding was both bewildering and comforting. She had worried about them
The sun had barely begun to rise, casting a soft golden glow over the estate, when Isabelle was gently awakened by her loyal dog, Rose. The day had finally arrived—the day she would marry Collins. A flurry of emotions washed over her: anticipation, nervousness, and a small but persistent flicker of hope. The maids entered her room with soft footsteps, their arms laden with an array of tools and accessories. They greeted her with polite smiles, sensing the gravity of the occasion. Isabelle sat up, rubbing her eyes and taking a deep breath, steeling herself for the long day ahead. "Good morning, miss," the head maid said, her voice calm and reassuring. "Let's get you ready for your big day." Isabelle nodded, rising from the bed and allowing herself to be guided to the dressing area. The maids set to work, drawing a warm bath infused with soothing lavender oils. Isabelle sank into the tub, closing her eyes and trying to relax as they washed and conditioned her hair. After the bath, the m
Kelvin chuckled softly, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "That's a fair question. It's not something I talk about often, but I suppose you deserve to know." Isabelle settled back against the pillows, curious to hear his story. Rose, sensing the change in atmosphere, rested her head on Isabelle's lap. "I grew up in a pretty tough neighborhood," Kelvin began, his voice taking on a reflective tone. "My family didn't have much, and life was a constant struggle. My father left when I was young, so it was just me, my mother, and my younger sister. I had to grow up fast, take on responsibilities that most kids my age didn't have to think about." Isabelle listened intently, her eyes fixed on Kelvin as he spoke. "When I was a teenager, I got into some trouble," he continued. "I was angry and frustrated with our situation, and I made some bad choices. But then I met someone who changed my life—a mentor who saw potential in me and helped me turn things around. He taught me discipline, self
Isabelle sighed, sitting up and running a hand through her hair. "I don't know, Kelvin. It's all just so much. I feel like I'm losing myself in all of this." Kelvin sat down on the edge of the bed, his expression softening. "It's understandable, Isabelle. This is a lot for anyone to handle. But remember, you're not alone in this." Isabelle looked at him, a question forming in her mind. She hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Kelvin, can I ask you something?" "Of course," he replied, his tone encouraging. "Why did you become a bodyguard? I mean, you're so... handsome and capable. You could have done anything. Why this?" Kelvin chuckled softly, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "That's a fair question. It's not something I talk about often, but I suppose you deserve to know." Isabelle settled back against the pillows, curious to hear his story. Rose, sensing the change in atmosphere, rested her head on Isabelle's lap. "I grew up in a pretty tough neighborhood," Kelvin began, h