Chapter Two: Rules

She was taken into the mansion of Ivanov where armed men scattered around the seemingly palace of her owner. She wasn't given any clothes to get warmed nor was she given any privacy when she was pulled out of the car. His people, though, never dare to spare a glance at the stranger in their house. They knew better than to anger their leader.

Her owner pushed her against an old, petite woman. "Bring her to one of the guest rooms and clean her up. I want her in the dining room at eleven. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," said the middle-age woman who nodded her head politely to the young boss.

Margarette watched as he walked away upstairs. His back was so lean and ripped against his tux. She gulped. There was no doubt he was a wealthy man.

"Let's go, ma'am," the said woman. 

She nodded her head and let the woman take her to one of the rooms. She was ushered towards the bathroom and was bathed before being dressed into an oversized shirt and a loose short. It was comfortable enough for her not to get cold even though it strips down on her skinny body every time.

"My name is Margarette..." she said, opting a conversation towards the woman. The old woman nodded her head briefly and didn't even bother to reply to her. "Uhm, w-what's your name?"

"Apologies, but I am not permitted to talk to you, miss."

"Huh? Why?" she asked dumbly, earning another silence from the woman. She sighed as she fidgeted her fingers. Why was she here in the first place again? Ah, Margarette remembered. She escaped and was abducted, and now she was being purchased.

"The boss wanted you downstairs at five. Let's go."

The woman who's name was still unknown to Margarette, yanked her up gently by the arm and pulled her down to the dining room. There, waiting at the head of the table was her owner. She locked gaze with her and she offered a kind smile to him, which earned a glare from him.

"Sit down."

Margarette was about to sit down when her owner tapped his lap almost boringly. She tilted head innocently, confusion plastered on her face. She walked towards him instinctively. When she was a few inches from him, she let out a squeal of shock when she was pulled unceremoniously into the man's lap.

"Stop moving," he said gruffly against her ear, making her shiver and quiet down. His strong arm was wrapped around her small waist. He took a deep breath, as if sniffing her.

She unconsciously shivered upon hearing his voice and feeling his breath against her skin.

"Am I not going to eat?" she asked innocently after seeing there's only one plate on the table. She was disappointed but she kept her mouth shut to ask for food, afraid to anger her owner. She's really hungry, and just seeing the food on the table makes her stomach grumble.

"Eat." Her owner, who's name was still unknown to her, pushed the plate closer to her. It was filled with food.

Margarette's eyes widened. She looked over her shoulder and met his eyes. With a bright smile, she said, "For real?"

He clenched his jaw, nodding his head. In his head, he thought that the woman was just too skinny and needed a little nutrients. He doesn't like skinny women, a little healthier is enough with him.

"Yes."

By hearing that, Margarette spent no time eating. She ate as if she hadn't eaten for decades. She hums at her every intake of food, as if she was raised in a cave and wasn't able to have these privileges. Unconsciously, her owner's lip twitched into a smirk. 

Margarette was so lost in the moment. She felt like she was in ecstasy upon tasting the five-star-like food. It was made by her owner's personal chef.

After filling her stomach full, she let out a giggle. With a huge grin, she turned to look at him and smiled sweetly, oh so genuinely.

"Thank you!" she cheered, oblivious to the boner she gave to the male she was sitting on the lap with. She kept moving as she ate and hums whenever the food tastes good in her mouth. Her owner thinks that she's probably doing it on favour.

To be fucked thoroughly and get paid. 

Her owner already knew what kind of person she was like. She's one of those women who doesn't mind getting sold to black market as long as they benefit from it. 

Money, jewellery, and luxury. 

'Tsk. Typical women,' Her owner thought.

After the late dinner, they went up to his office. He sat down on his swivel chair and she sat down in front of him. She roamed her eyes around, curious at what she was seeing. It was really nice here. It screams wealth.

"I guess you already know what role you will be playing here, little slut," he spoke harshly. 

Margarette jumped, startled. But it was not because of his harsh tone or for his offensive words, but because he had spoken words longer than he had earlier.

"My name is Xavier. Xavier Ivanov. And you will be calling me 'sir' every damn time. Do you understand?" he said, his voice cold, his face was void of any emotion.

She nodded her head and smiled. "Yes, sir."

He smirked. "Good girl. Now, tell me about yourself."

She pursed her lips before taking a deep breath. "First, I want to thank you for purchasing me—" he cut her off.

"Thank me?" he said, chuckling darkly.

She nodded her head, brows knitting in confusion. "Yes. I want to thank you for buying me and giving me food. I'm grateful."

Now, it was his turn to get confused. 'Is this woman a nut, isn't she?' he thought. 

He tilted his head and looked at her from her head and down to her bare feet. She really is beautiful.

"My name is Margarette, but you can call me Flower. That's my nickname. I'm nineteen years old."

"Flower..." he uttered, smirking. 

She smiled approvingly. "Yes, it sounds much better."

Suddenly, the smirk on his face dropped as if it was never there before. "You speak when I allow you to. Do not speak unless I tell you so. Remember this, I own you and I do what I please."

Margarette was taken aback. Her heart slightly throb. She looked down on her feet shamefully.

"Sorry..." she whispered as she took a glance at him.

"Tsk."

She flinched upon hearing and seeing his disappointed face. He just literally told her not to speak unless spoken to, but there she goes, breaking it immediately.

"You're a bad girl, Margarette. Not obeying what her sir told her to do. Now, the next time you disobey me I will receive a punishment. Understood?"

She nodded her head.

He let out a low growl. "Words."

She flinched, suddenly lost. He told her not to speak and now he wants her to speak? 

"B-But you said—"

"Answer me when I ask."

Her lips pouted so childishly. "Okay—"

"Answer me."

"Y-Yes, sir..." she said, fidgeting her fingers nervously.

"Good girl," he praised, and surprisingly it made her heart suddenly flutter. "Come over here."

She obeyed reluctantly. She stood beside his chair and waited for further instruction.

He pulled her to his lap and pressed his lips against her earlobe, making the hair on her name stand up. He, then, whispered against her skin, "From now on, you will be my doll... Flower."