Chapter 4 3
Soraya's POV
As the door slammed in my face, my heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears.
The client was already here.
They didn’t even give me time to think or even find a way to run.
Then, from outside the door, Madam Felicia roared.
“Make sure to stay put on the bed. Sit on the bed quickly. If I open this door and you’re not on the bed, I’ll kill you.”
Kill me?
I swallowed hard, my throat dry and the lump of panic rising fast.
I moved slowly, like every inch of me weighed a thousand pounds, and sat in the middle of the bed. The mattress dipped under me. I hugged my legs to my chest.
My arms wrapped tightly around my knees. The AC was cold and I felt… naked.
In just a few minutes…
A man was going to walk in here…And spread my legs.
My stomach twisted violently and my heart thundered like it wanted to claw its way out of my chest.
How did the other girls handle this?
Was this really happening?
Was this really how I was going to lose my virginity? To a stranger in a cold room I didn’t walk into willingly?
Was this what life planned for me?
My thoughts were spiraling, spinning so fast I couldn’t catch a single one. Fear bloomed in my chest like a thousand vines wrapping around my ribs, squeezing tight.
Then the door clicked, every muscle in my body froze.
The door creaked open and then I saw a man standing at the entrance.
I couldn’t see his face clearly as the light behind him made his entire figure look like a shadow. But I could tell he was tall and broad-shouldered.
And his eyes were so grey they glowed like silver under moonlight. They were the only thing clear at that moment.
He had dark, tousled hair. He took slow, deliberate steps inside and I instinctively flinched away, hugging my legs tighter.
He stepped closer, and I could finally make out his features under the dim lights. My heart didn’t know whether to still be in terror or confusion.
He was stunning—dark tousled hair that looked like it had been dragged through his hands more than once, grey eyes that almost glowed in the darkness, fair skin that made his features stand out sharply.
The air around him was so cold, it felt like winter had just walked into the room.
He stopped right in front of the bed, towering over me. Then, without a word, he began to unbutton his long black coat. He slid it off his shoulders, dropping it carelessly to the floor behind him.
And then he looked me straight in the eye.
“Get your clothes off,” he said, his voice emotionless.
I stared at him, my lips slightly parted in shock. What?
“I said, get your clothes off,” he repeated. “Turn around. I want you on your hands and knees. Face me with your ass.”
“What?” I breathed, trembling.
He took a single step forward, the air tightening .
“Didn’t you hear what I—”
He stopped.
Just like that, the words died on his tongue. His entire body froze, his eyes locked on me. It looked like he had been struck.
His pupils dilated, his lips parted slightly.
And then...He stepped back.
“Mate.”
The word slipped from his lips like it startled even him.
I blinked.
My brows furrowed. Mate? What?
Was he... British?
But his accent wasn’t British—What did he mean?
He suddenly dragged a hand through his hair, the movement rough and agitated, like his scalp was on fire. Then he started pacing back and forth and back again. His long strides ate the space like a caged animal trying to contain himself.
What the hell?
One second he looked thrilled, like he’d just won the lottery. The next, he looked like he wanted to rip someone’s throat out.
Then came the scowl, the low growl under his breath, his hands curling into fists. I blinked again, speechless.
Was this man a maniac?
My back tensed, suddenly aware of how very alone I was in this unfamiliar room. With this... man
Then his eyes snapped to me again.
“Get up, right now.”
I stared at him. What?
He had just told me to face the bed, on my hands and knees, like I was some... offering. Now he wanted me to get up?
But something in his tone, in his entire presence, told me not to test him.
So I rose, slowly, like my limbs weren’t mine. I stood there, awkward and unsure, trying to cover myself as much as I could.
He stared at me…no, scanned me. His eyes dragged down my form like he was seeing more than just flesh. He looked... conflicted, like a million thoughts were going off in his head, none of which he cared to explain.
Then without warning, he stepped forward and grabbed my wrist.
“Come with me right now.”
His grip was firm, showing no room for argument. He turned, dragging me toward the door. My heart thundered in my chest with panic.
The moment he opened the door, he paused.
His eyes flicked down to me again, and something about the way his gaze narrowed made me flinch.
Then, he let out another huff, turned back, and with a surprising amount of speed, snatched the blanket off the bed.
Before I could even register what he was doing, he wrapped it around me—tight, twisting it in such a way that both my hands were pinned inside like a wrapped sausage.
“Wait, what are you—!”
I didn’t even finish my sentence before he threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. Like I was some sack of flour he had just picked up from the market.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” I shouted, the blanket muffling most of it. “Put me down!”
But he was already walking out of the room.
And I was helplessly flung over his shoulder, flailing inside a blanket burrito.
What kind of nightmare was this?
I blinked, still upside down over his shoulder, the blanket cocooning my arms and body so tightly I could barely wiggle my fingers.
My hair hung like a curtain, swaying with every long stride he took. My mouth hung open slightly, not because I meant it to—but because I had no idea what to say.
What was I even supposed to say?
He walked like he owned the damn place. Every hallway, every chandelier and velvet curtain we passed—it all seemed to shrink under his presence.
I didn't know who this man was, but the moment we entered the lounge and Madam Felicia saw him, I knew exactly what power looked like.
She straightened immediately, almost choking on the drink she was nursing. Her heavy lashes fluttered as she stared up at him like a deer caught in headlights.
For once, she didn’t look like the devil who owned my soul. She looked like a scared woman.
“Mr. Darius,” she gasped, setting her glass down and rising slowly. “Is there a problem?”
He said nothing.
Madam Felicia laughed nervously, her hands smoothing down her satin robe.
“You didn’t like our service?” Her voice
pitched higher. “We can get you another girl. Someone more... compliant or exotic. Just say the word.”
Darius finally spoke, voice calm but sharp. “I want this one.”
My heart paused.
Felicia blinked. “Pardon?”
“I said,” he repeated, voice lower now. “I want this one. I’m taking her with me.”