Eve woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows and a body that felt like it had been hit by a truck.
Every muscle ached. Her throat was raw. And between her legs, she was sore in ways that made her blush even though she was alone.
Alone.
She sat up carefully, wincing at the protest from her abused body. The massive bed was empty except for her. The sheets were tangled and....she looked away quickly...stained with evidence of last night.
Last night.
Memory flooded back in vivid detail. Three men. Multiple orgasms. Complete and utter surrender.
Eve pressed her hands to her face, not sure whether to laugh or cry. She'd survived her first night with the Blackwood brothers. Barely.
A soft knock interrupted her spiral. Before she could respond, Mrs. Blackwood entered carrying a tray.
"Good morning, Miss Chen. The masters thought you might want breakfast in bed." The older woman's expression was carefully neutral as she set the tray on the bedside table. "There are fresh clothes in the closet for you, and the bathroom is fully stocked. The masters have business this morning but request your presence at dinner tonight."
Eve pulled the sheet up to her chin, suddenly aware she was naked. "What time is it?"
"Nearly ten. You slept quite late." Was that judgment in the woman's tone? "The car will take you home at two if you'd like to collect anything you need for extended stays. The masters expect you back by seven this evening."
Extended stays. As in multiple nights. As in this wasn't a one-time thing.
Of course it wasn't. She'd signed a six-month contract.
"Thank you," Eve managed.
Mrs. Blackwood paused at the door. "Miss Chen? A word of advice. The masters can be... intense. But they do take care of what belongs to them. Don't try to run, don't try to manipulate them, and you'll find this arrangement quite... comfortable."
The door closed before Eve could respond.
What belongs to them.
Eve looked at the breakfast tray...fresh fruit, pastries, coffee that smelled expensive. Everything presented on fine china like she was a guest instead of... what? An employee? A possession?
Her phone buzzed from somewhere in the room. She found it in her bag, which someone had placed neatly in the closet along with her overnight things.
Seventeen missed calls from Maya. Six voicemails. And a string of increasingly frantic texts.
Maya: You were supposed to text me by noon!
Maya: Eve, I swear to God if you don't answer...
Maya: I'm calling the police.
Maya: ANSWER YOUR PHONE
Eve quickly typed a response: I'm fine. Sorry. Phone was off. Everything's okay.
The reply was immediate: CALL ME RIGHT NOW
Eve dialed, and Maya picked up before the first ring finished.
"Where the hell have you been? I've been losing my mind!"
"I told you I'd text by noon. It's only ten."
"You were supposed to text last night! I haven't heard from you in almost fifteen hours!"
Eve winced. "Sorry. I... fell asleep. It was a long night."
A loaded pause. "How long?"
"Maya..."
"Did they hurt you?"
"No." Eve looked at the marks on her wrists, the bruises on her hips. "Not really. I mean, yes, there are marks, but..."
"Jesus Christ, Eve."
"I'm fine," Eve insisted, even though she wasn't sure if that was true. "Sore, but fine. They were... intense, but they didn't do anything I didn't agree to."
Another pause. "Did you want it?"
The question hit harder than it should have. Had she wanted it? Her body had certainly responded. She'd come so many times she'd lost count. But want was complicated when money and desperation were involved.
"I don't know," Eve admitted quietly. "My body did. Whether that counts as wanting it... I'm not sure."
"Fuck." Maya's voice was thick with worry. "When do you see them again?"
"Tonight. They want me back by seven."
"Already? Eve, you need recovery time. You can't just..."
"The contract says they can require me four to seven nights a week," Eve interrupted. "I knew what I was signing."
"Knowing and experiencing are very different things."
Eve couldn't argue with that.
They talked for another ten minutes before Maya had to go to work. After hanging up, Eve forced herself to eat the breakfast even though her stomach was churning.
Then she showered.
The bathroom was obscenely luxurious...marble and gold fixtures, a shower that could fit six people, and a bathtub deep enough to swim in. Eve stood under scalding water for twenty minutes, watching bruises bloom on her skin.
Fingerprints on her hips. Bite marks on her shoulders. A hickey on her inner thigh that made her face burn when she saw it.
They'd marked her deliberately. Claiming her skin the way they'd claimed her body.
When she finally emerged, wrapped in a towel that probably cost more than her rent, she found clothes laid out on the bed. Designer jeans that fit perfectly, a soft cashmere sweater, expensive underwear still in packages.
They'd bought her clothes. In her exact size.
The attention to detail was both flattering and disturbing.
Eve dressed slowly, her sore muscles protesting every movement. When she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. The clothes were beautiful, her skin was glowing despite the marks, and her eyes looked... different. Darker somehow. More aware.
You look like someone's mistress, she thought, then pushed the idea away.
She wasn't a mistress. She was a contracted employee. There was a difference.
Wasn't there?
Marcus drove her home at two, the ride silent and professional. Eve used the time to check her phone.
An email from the hospital: her mother's first treatment was scheduled for tomorrow morning. Dr. Williams was optimistic.
A text from an unknown number: You did well last night. Rest today. You'll need your strength. - D
Damian. Even his texts were commanding.