Chapter 1

• Marlowe's POV
• “Wait, condom—”
• I tried to remind him, but he didn’t even let me finish. Salem suddenly grabbed my wrists and pinned them firmly against the bed above my head.
• His body came down over mine, warm and familiar in a way I hated admitting to myself.
• “Shut up, Marlowe,” he growled, his face inches from mine, “I’m out of condoms, and I’m not waiting.”
• I squeezed my eyes shut, tears already leaking from the corners.
• I know, I should have hated him. Some nights I told myself I did hate him, that the feeling in my body was fear and nothing else. Other nights—nights like this one, when his voice dropped low instead of cruel—I wasn't sure anymore what the feeling meant.
• He shifted his weight, preparing to slide his cock into me, but then he suddenly paused. I felt his body stiffen above me.
• He looked down at my face, his expression suddenly changing.
• “When was your last period?” he snapped. “When did your cycle end?”
• My breath stopped.
• My whole body was shaking under his weight. Salem felt so heavy on top of me he was crushing my chest.
• I knew I had to give him the answer he wanted to hear, or things would only get worse for me.
• “It... it ended a week ago,” I whispered, my voice trembling out loud. “I’m... I’m safe. I’m clean.”
• He stared at me for a long moment checking my eyes to see if I was lying. Satisfied with what he saw, a dangerous smirk touched his lips.
• "Good girl."
• The words shouldn't have done anything to me. I told myself they didn't. But I couldn't stop the small smile tugging at my lips.
• Maybe he was impressed today, I thought.
• Before I could even take another breath, Salem pressed his palm down firmly over my mouth.
• He dug his other hand into my waist and shoved himself deep inside me without any warning.
• A muffled moan died in my throat beneath his tight palm.
• Pain exploded through my body, sharp and raw. Sex with Salem was never gentle. It was always rough, violent, and meant to break me. He didn't care about my comfort. He never did.
• He just fucks me like I’m nothing more than a sex toy, always slamming inside me until I'm almost unconscious.
• “Don’t make a sound,” he hissed against my ear, “Your moans are disgusting. I don't want to hear a single sound come out of your mouth.”
• Tears ran continuously down my cheeks, soaking into the bedsheets beneath my head.
• He moved inside me with hard, relentless thrusts that hurt so badly I thought I would break for real.
• My body betrayed me in the pain—my fingers instinctively clawed up his back, my hands wrapping around his bare waist to guide his brutal movements, clinging to him just to survive the sweet-and-sour feeling.
• I couldn't move.
• I couldn't breathe properly.
• I just had to lie there and take his huge size, staring up at the ceiling of the room that had become my prison.
• For seven long months, I had been locked inside this single room. Seven months of never stepping a single foot outside that door. Seven months of being treated like a sex toy by the most ruthless mafia leader in the city.
• Salem didn't stop until he finished deep inside me, shooting his hot seed inside my pussy. He paused for a second before thrusting his dick inside me one last time just to knock the breath out of me again.
• Without a word, he finally pulled out.
• He stood up, adjusted his clothes, and zipped up his pants as if I weren't even there.
• He didn't look at me once as he walked across the bedroom into the bathroom, returning with a white towel.
• He tossed the towel directly onto my face.
• I stayed curled up on my side, clutching my stomach.
• “Clean up this mess,” Salem said, his voice cold and detached. “Next time, clean up properly before I come in here. I don't want to meet you unclean ever again.”
• I squeezed my eyes shut, hugging my knees tightly against my chest to cover my nakedness.
• Salem walked to the table, picked up the large black gift box, and returned to the bed.
• He stood over me like a giant beast.
• But I didn't move.
• I kept my eyes fixed on the bedsheets, my hands still covering my breasts.
• “Look at me,” he commanded.
• I didn't lift my head.
• “Look at me, Marlowe. Now.” His voice suddenly rose.
• Slowly, out of fear, I lifted my wet eyes to look up at him.
• Salem lifted the big designer box and threw it directly onto the bed beside me.
• “Consider that your reward for being obedient today,” he said coldly, looking down at me like I was nothing but trash.
• I stared at the gift box and suddenly muttered, “Fifty-seven—”
• Salem froze, “What did you say—?” He growled, his face already twisting with anger.
• “Nothing, I said… I said thank you,” I lied.
• Salem glared down at me, his eyes dark with contempt, “Just shut up and don't thank me. The gifts aren't for you—they're to wash my hands of your filth,” he spat angrily.
• That was gift number fifty-seven. For seven months, every single time he hurt me, every time he used my body to satisfy his twisted need for revenge, he dropped an expensive gift on my bed.
• Designer shoes, diamond necklaces, gold watches, and now this big designer bag.
• He thought throwing gifts at me would wash away his guilt. But to me, these weren't ordinary gifts. They were my ticket out of here.
• Every single piece of jewelry and every expensive bag was being saved to fund my escape plan.
• Suddenly, a loud knock sounded at the bedroom door.
• Salem’s head snapped toward the door, his eyebrows pulling together in anger.
• “What is it?” he yelled, clearly irritated. “I said don't disturb me whenever I'm in here!”
• The voice of his main bodyguard, Rowan, came from outside the door.
• “Boss! I'm sorry to interrupt, but... it's your wife. She's back.” Rowan said with a trembling voice.
• Salem froze.
• His eyes widened in absolute shock.
• “What?” Salem barked, taking a quick step toward the door. “She’s back? Already?”
• “Yes, boss,” the bodyguard answered quickly. “Her flight landed early. She just walked through the front gates downstairs.”
• “All right, all right!” Salem said loudly, his voice showing a rush of panic I had never heard from him before. “Keep her busy! I'm coming down. I'll be out of here in a minute!”
• On the bed, my breath caught in my throat.
• My heart stopped beating for a full second.
• ‘Wife?’ I thought.
• My mind went completely blank.
• ‘Salem had a wife?’ I thought again.
• Seven months I had been locked in this room, forced to endure his touch, forced to bear his cruelty, and I had no idea he was married.
• I suddenly felt betrayed, and a rush of confusion left me struggling to understand what was happening.
• Why keep a secret prisoner in your house if you have a wife? What kind of twisted game was he playing with both of us?
• Salem quickly turned back toward me, adjusting his suit jacket smoothly.
• He looked down at me, his eyes full of sharp warning.
• “Don't you dare make a sound in here,” he whispered harshly, leaning over the bed. “If my wife finds out you exist, I will make your life a living hell compared to this. Stay quiet and stay in this bed.”
• He didn't wait for my answer. He just walked out of the bedroom and locked the door behind him.
• I lay on the bed, my body aching, staring at the closed door in the quiet room.
• Then, my eyes caught something on the floor near the glass table.
• Something Salem had dropped without noticing.