Chapter 3

The bedroom door clicked shut behind me with a finality that made my stomach drop. Alexander's master suite was nothing like the stark interrogation room—it was opulent, with a king-sized bed draped in crisp white linens, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, and furniture that probably cost more than I made in a year. Yet it felt just as much a prison.

"You'll stay here," Alexander announced, his voice echoing slightly in the spacious room. "The bathroom is through there. You'll find clothes in the closet."

I glanced toward the walk-in closet, expecting to see women's clothing, but Alexander's next words crushed that hope.

"You'll wear my shirts," he continued, moving to a leather armchair positioned beside the bed. "Nothing else."

My cheeks burned with humiliation. "That's not appropriate."

"It's all you're getting," he replied coldly. "Unless you prefer to wear nothing at all."

I said nothing more, knowing resistance would only make things worse. The white dress shirt he'd given me earlier hung to my mid-thighs, the fabric soft against my skin but feeling like a brand of ownership.

Alexander settled into the armchair, crossing one leg over the other. "Get some sleep," he ordered. "I want to observe your natural sleep patterns."

"You're going to watch me sleep?" I asked incredulously.

"Your unconscious mind might reveal what your conscious mind is hiding," he explained, his pale eyes never leaving my face. "People talk in their sleep, Ms. Hayes."

I crawled into the massive bed, keeping as much distance as possible between myself and his watchful gaze. The mattress was impossibly comfortable, but sleep was impossible with him sitting there like a sentinel.

Three nights passed this way. Each evening, Alexander would escort me to his bedroom, watch me change into one of his shirts, and then settle into that chair, his eyes never leaving me. Sometimes he'd work on his laptop, the blue light casting eerie shadows across his face. Other times he'd just sit, observing me with that unnerving intensity.

On the fourth night, I made my decision.

I waited until Alexander's breathing had deepened, his eyes closing briefly—the closest thing to sleep I'd ever seen him come while on his vigil. Quietly, I slipped from beneath the covers and retrieved a hairpin from the bathroom drawer where I'd hidden it days ago.

The bedroom door was locked, of course, but I'd been watching Alexander enter the code each night: 4729. My fingers trembled as I punched in the numbers, praying he hadn't changed it.

The lock clicked open.

Freedom—or at least a chance at it—beckoned beyond that door. I slipped into the hallway, barefoot and silent, the oversized shirt billowing around my legs. The mansion was quiet at this hour, most of the staff long since retired to their quarters.

I made it halfway down the corridor when a shadow detached itself from an alcove.

"Going somewhere?" Alexander's voice was deceptively soft.

I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. "You were awake."

"I never sleep," he replied, advancing toward me with predatory grace. "Did you think I wouldn't anticipate an escape attempt?"

Before I could react, he grabbed my arm, spinning me around and pinning me against the wall. His body pressed against mine, his face inches from my own.

"Let me go!" I struggled against his grip, but he was immovable.

"You need to understand something, Emma," he growled, his breath warm against my face. "There is no escape from this island. No escape from me."

His fingers dug into my wrists, not quite painful but unmistakably dominant. "The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."

I stopped struggling, tears of frustration welling in my eyes. "Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?"

Instead of answering, he released me suddenly, stepping back. "Go back to your room."

The next day, something changed in Alexander's approach. He seemed almost... accommodating.

"The guards will be changing shifts at three," he mentioned casually as we shared a tense lunch in his study. "The northern perimeter will be vulnerable for approximately seven minutes."

I looked up sharply, meeting his gaze. Was this a trap? Or a genuine opportunity?

At precisely 2:55, I made my move, slipping out through the gardens toward the north side of the property. Sure enough, the guard tower was empty. I ran toward the dock where several boats were moored.

Hope surged through me as I reached the dock, untied one of the smaller boats, and prepared to push off.

"Going somewhere?"

I whirled around to find Ivan standing at the end of the dock, his expression impassive.

"Please," I begged. "Just let me go."

"I'm afraid not," he replied, advancing toward me.

The third escape attempt came two days later. This time, I was more careful, more determined. I made it all the way to the helicopter pad before a shadow fell across my path.

"Enough games," Alexander's voice was cold as he tackled me to the ground.

We crashed onto the concrete, my body trapped beneath his much larger one. His weight pressed me down as he captured my wrists in one powerful hand, pinning them above my head.

"Please," I whispered, our faces inches apart, his breath mingling with mine.

Something flickered in his eyes—something that wasn't quite anger or suspicion. Something that made my heart race for entirely different reasons.

"You should know by now," he said softly, his voice rough with something unfamiliar, "that you belong to me."