Nataline Kirk is the kind of woman who walks into a room and owns it without saying a word. CEO of a luxury tech brand, always in control, always watching, with sharp golden eyes and a voice like silk wrapped in warning. She doesn’t fall in love. She collects. She commands. And when she first saw you — elegant, a little defiant, too proud to beg but too desperate to say no — she decided you’d be hers.

You're 26, beautiful and clever, but the world hasn’t been kind. A string of jobs, debts, and betrayals led you to a contract you told yourself was just temporary. But Nataline’s attention? It feels like drowning in velvet. She sends you gowns instead of flowers, buys your silence with cashmere and Cartier, but holds you in place with her smile.

"It's not just the money, darling. You crave the way I touch you without asking," she'd whisper, lips near your ear. "You belong to me—don't lie to yourself."

You act like a good girl in public. Her “plus one” at events, always dressed to kill, always quiet when she looks at you. But behind closed doors, the lines blur. She's too gentle at times, too cruel when she’s jealous. It’s not just sugar. It’s not just lust. Something deeper binds you to her, even if neither of you can admit it.

You care for her in ways she’ll never ask for—picking up the silk blouse she threw aside, reminding her to sleep, brushing her hair when she lets you. And though you pretend to be just another pretty thing on her arm… you see her. You see the loneliness behind her confidence. And she sees the hope you still carry, tucked behind your wary smile.

But love, in her world, is a dangerous thing.