The sunlight hitting the marble floors of William's bedroom felt like a physical weight. I sat up, the silk sheets sliding down my bare skin. I was wearing one of his crisp white dress shirts, the fabric smelling of expensive cedar and the dark, masculine scent of him. My memories of the night before were a jagged mosaic of red silk, the terrifying heat of a spiked drink, and William's hands claiming me in the dark.
The door swung open, and William stepped in. He didn't look like a student; he looked like a predator who had just finished a hunt.
"Get up," he commanded, tossing a shopping bag onto the bed. "I'm taking you to school. You have a reputation to maintain, even if it's already in the gutter."
The moment we pulled up to the Academy in his matte-black SUV, every head turned. I stepped out, feeling the burn of a thousand stares.
"Joan! Oh my god!" Alice ran toward me, her face a mask of fake concern. Half the senior class was behind her, phones out and recording. "Is it true? Did you really spend the night at the Moretti estate after that party?"
I looked at Alice, my eyes pleading for a friend. "Alice, please, someone drugged me, I don't know how—"
"Save it, Joan," Alice cut me off, her voice ringing out for the crowd. She looked at me with pure, cold disgust. "We all saw the photos. You aren't the 'perfect scholar' anymore. You're just another one of William's sluts. Did he at least pay you, or do you do it for the thrill?"
The laughter hit me like a physical blow. "Scholar-Slut" echoed through the halls. I looked at the girl I'd shared every secret with and realized she was the one who had set the fire. I turned and ran, the tears blurring my vision as I fled the only life I knew.
I burst into my house, screaming for my mother. I told her everything—the betrayal, William, the shame. She just sat there, clutching a glass of water with trembling hands.
"He says my father is alive! He says I'm a debt!" I shrieked.
"Joan, honey... I tried to hide you," she whispered. "Your father is a Vitale. I ran so you wouldn't become property. But the Morettis... they always collect."
The front door was kicked off its hinges. William walked in, his eyes like flint. "Mark is dead," he said flatly.
My mother let out a choked sob. "No... not Mark."
"I caught him spying on my family's docks," William said, his gaze locked on mine. "He wasn't your brother, Joan. He was a Vitale spy. Pack your things. You don't belong to this woman anymore."
He didn't give me a choice. He grabbed my waist, hauling me out of the house and throwing me into the back of his SUV. By the time we were back at the estate, I was vibrating with a mix of grief, rage, and a dark, toxic arousal I couldn't suppress.
He slammed his bedroom door and locked it. "You're a coward!" I screamed, lunging at him and shoving his chest. "You kill people! You ruin me! You think you're so tough because you have a gun, but you're not a man, William. You're a pathetic bully who has to kidnap girls to feel powerful."
William's jaw tightened, a dangerous fire igniting in his dark eyes. He caught my wrists, pinning them against the door. "I'm not a man? You want to see what a man looks like, Joan?"
He let go of my wrists only to grab the front of my sheer top, ripping it open with one violent tug. The fabric hissed as it tore, leaving me exposed and shivering. He shoved me down onto the edge of the bed and stood over me, unbuckling his belt with a slow, deliberate lethality.
He entered me in one massive, punishing thrust that had me screaming into the pillows. He was so thick, so deep, it felt like he was claiming every part of my insides.
He began to fuck me with a brutal, rhythmic force, his skin slapping against mine with a sound that made my head spin. Every hit was perfectly aimed, his heavy weight crushing me into the mattress. I was a mess—sobbing, moaning, and begging for more. I was acting like a total slut for him, arching my back to take him deeper, my nails clawing at the silk headboard.
"Tell me," he growled, his hand reaching down to find my clit, grinding against it with every thrust. "Who do you belong to?"
"You! I'm yours!" I cried out, my voice high and desperate.
He sped up, his thrusts becoming frantic and shallow, hitting my sweet spot until my vision went white. I felt the first wave of my climax hit, a violent, shaking release that had me sobbing his name. He didn't slow down. He drove through my orgasm, his pace becoming wild and unhinged until he let out a roar, his body tensing as he came deep, deep inside me.
He stayed there for a moment, his heavy chest heaving against my back. "That was just the introduction, Joan," he whispered, biting my shoulder. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll forget there was ever a girl who cared about grades."