Chapter 17 Punishment I
Constantine's POV
I just sit in the car as the driver navigates the road, and it feels like I'm like a lamb who is being taken to the abbiattor. We stop in different red lights, and anyone we stop at, my heart pounds heavily because I don't have a good feeling about this. I just consider opening the door and running away. But where would I go to? Back to Matthew, who broke me six months ago? Back to Ivy's house to go and inconvenience her? Back to the version of myself that couldn't save her parents?
No. I made my choice. I signed the contract. I belong to Wyatt Gorshkovsky now, and he was a big monster and bully and I have no choice but to adapt to the monster.
The driver pulls up to the building and opens my door without a word. I step out on shaking legs, my heels clicking against the pavement as I walk through the lobby. The security guard nods at me. I'm sure he recognizes me now, knows I'm expected and maybe he knows about what me and his boss is doing. I want to enter into the ground…because I just feel so embarrassed. But I don't. I just smile weakly at him and take the elevator up. The doors open directly into his penthouse, and the first thing I see is him.
Wyatt is standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his back to me. He's changed out of his work clothes into dark slacks and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looks relaxed. But I've come to realise that a relaxed Mr Gorshkovsky is a dangerous Mr Gorshkovsky.
'You're late,' he says without turning around. His voice is quiet, almost conversational, but there's something underneath it that makes my skin crawl. My stomach turns and I swallow, standing on one foot.
'I came as soon as the driver arrived,' I say, my voice barely steady. 'You said I could have tonight to visit my parents—'
'I changed my mind.' He takes a slow sip of his whiskey, still not looking at me. 'I'm allowed to do that. Or did you forget the terms of our arrangement already?'
My hands clench into fists at my sides. This man! He is such an inconsiderate and horrible man. I hate him . 'No, sir.'
'Good.' He finally turns to face me, and the look in his ice-blue eyes makes my stomach drop. 'Tell me, Constantine. Who was that man touching you on the street?'
My blood runs cold. How does he—
'Did you think I wouldn't find out?' He sets his glass down on the side table with deliberate care. 'Did you think I'd just let you wander around the city unsupervised? You belong to me. Every second of your time, every inch of your body. That means I know where you are. Always. I'll always know who you're with.’
'You had me followed,' I whisper, horror creeping up my spine. ‘That's invasion of privacy!’
He grinned coldly, the smile not reaching his eyes or cheeks. ‘Privacy? You think you still have the right to one?’ The cold grin disappears immediately. ‘Who was he?’
I swallow hard. 'My ex-boyfriend.'
'Your ex-boyfriend.' He repeats the words slowly, tasting them. 'And why was his hand on your wrist?'
'He wanted to talk—'
'I didn't ask what he wanted. I asked why he was touching what belongs to me.' His voice drops lower, colder. 'Did I or did I not make it clear that no one touches you? That you're mine and mine alone?'
'You did, but I didn't—I tried to pull away—'
'Not fast enough.' He starts walking toward me, slow and predatory. 'You stood there and let him touch you. Let him talk to you. Let him think he had any right to you at all.'
'I was trying to leave!' My voice cracks with frustration and fear. 'The driver showed up and I got in the car—'
'After how long?' He's close now, close enough that I can smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off his body. 'How long did you let him hold you, Constantine? How long did you stand there remembering what it felt like to be his?'
Tears sting my eyes because he's right. For those few minutes with Matthew, I had let myself remember. Let myself feel something other than shame and degradation.
'I'm sorry,' I whisper, not having any other choice.
'No, you're not.' His hand shoots out, gripping my jaw hard enough to hurt. 'But you will be.'
He drags me across the penthouse toward his bedroom. I stumble in my heels, trying to keep up, my heart hammering so hard I think it might burst through my ribs.
The bedroom is as cold and minimalist as the rest of the penthouse. All black and grey and white, with a massive bed that dominates the center of the room. He shoves me toward it, and I catch myself on the edge of the mattress.
'Strip,' he orders.
My hands are shaking so badly I can barely work the buttons on my blouse. He watches me struggle, his expression unmoved, and when I'm too slow he crosses the distance between us and tears the fabric open himself. Buttons scatter across the floor.
'Faster!’ He growls.
I shed the rest of my clothes as quickly as I can…the skirt, the shoes, the bra, the underwear…until I'm standing completely naked in front of him, trembling like a leaf.
He circles me slowly, like he did that first night, his eyes cataloging every inch of my body. When he's standing behind me, I feel his fingers trail down my spine, and I shiver.
'You know what happens when you break the rules, don't you?' His breath is hot against my ear.
'Yes, sir,' I whisper.
'Tell me.'
'I get punished.'
'That's right.' His hand slides around to grip my throat from behind, not tight enough to cut off air but enough to remind me he could. 'And this punishment is going to teach you exactly who you belong to. Are you ready, птичка?'