Breaking Point

I threw the last of my clothes into the suitcase, barely bothering to fold them. Why would I? It didn't matter anymore. Nothing did. My hands trembled as I zipped it shut, the sound sharp and final in the otherwise suffocating silence of my tiny room. For years, I had convinced myself that this was fine. That the maid uniform was just another costume, another role to play. I told myself I could live like this — invisible, silent, subservient. But I couldn't. Not anymore.

I glanced around the room, eyes landing on the old-fashioned mirror over the dresser. My reflection stared back at me, pale, hollow-eyed, a shadow of the girl I used to be. I wasn't even sure who that girl was anymore. A daughter, a sister, a fiancée. All labels, all roles people had cast me in. But none of them felt real. I couldn't even recognize myself.

My fingers twitched toward my phone, the temptation to call Dominic like a steady hum in my brain. He could fix this. He could fix me. But then the reality hit me like a punch to the gut: Dominic hasn't spoken to you in weeks. Every time I tried, he found a way to avoid me. Always busy, always distant. I wanted to scream, to beg him for answers, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me like this. Broken.

Snatching my suitcase, I headed for the door. My family had made it clear enough that I wasn't their problem anymore. The credit cards were frozen, the trust fund locked away, the accounts dry as a desert. All that was left for me was this stupid maid job that barely paid for groceries, let alone anything else. Screw them, I thought as I slammed the door behind me.

I managed to hail a taxi, throwing myself into the back seat as though running from some invisible pursuer. "The closest hotel. Cheap," I muttered, my throat tight with the effort of keeping tears at bay. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, probably reading the exhaustion and despair plastered on my face, but said nothing. I appreciated the silence.

The hotel wasn't much, just some rundown place on the edge of town where the carpets reeked of mildew and the walls were thin enough to hear every conversation. But it was a roof over my head for the night. At least here, I could shut out the world, even if just for a few hours.

I dropped my suitcase on the floor and sank onto the bed, staring at the ugly, patterned comforter beneath me. The weight of everything crashed down on me at once — Dominic's silence, my family's betrayal, my future crumbling beneath me like a sandcastle washed away by the tide.

What now? My head spun with possibilities, none of them good. The money I'd saved wouldn't last long, not at the rate I was going. I didn't know how to do anything. Being a maid wasn't exactly a career option, and I'd never learned how to be self-sufficient. Because you've always depended on other people, Liv. You've never been good enough on your own.

That thought hit me harder than any insult ever could, and before I knew it, the tears spilled over, hot and angry. I buried my face in my hands, sobbing until my chest ached. How did it come to this? How did I fall this far, this fast?

Through the haze of tears, I fumbled for my phone. I couldn't stand this loneliness any longer. My fingers moved almost on their own as I scrolled through my contacts, landing on Nathan's name. God, I missed him. I missed the way he used to hold me, tell me everything would be okay. We hadn't spoken in months, and I knew I shouldn't reach out to him — I had no right to — but I couldn't stop myself.

I miss you. I love you, Nathan.

I sent the message without thinking, wiping at my tear-streaked face as I waited for a response. Seconds ticked by, stretching into minutes. Nothing.

My breath hitched, and something inside me snapped. He wasn't even going to acknowledge me. Just like Dominic, just like my family, Nathan didn't care. I was nothing to him, just another girl he could discard. Fury bubbled up in my chest, twisting with the hurt until I thought I might scream.

You're the worst thing that ever happened to me, I typed, my fingers shaking with anger. I wish I'd been engaged to Dominic instead. I sent the message before I could second-guess it, the words a weapon aimed straight at Nathan's heart. But the moment it was gone, regret hit me like a freight train.

What have I done?

I scrambled to block his number, my heart racing as I imagined his face when he read it. He didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve to be hurt just because I was spiraling. But it was too late now.

I tossed the phone onto the bed and collapsed beside it, exhaustion pulling at my bones. I just wanted to disappear, to fall asleep and wake up in a world where none of this existed. Please, just let me rest.

But then there was a knock at the door.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing whoever it was to go away. Stupid housekeeping. I wasn't in the mood for anyone. "Go away!" I called, my voice muffled by the pillow.

The knock came again, more insistent this time. I groaned, sitting up and wiping my face. "I'm fine. I don't need towels."

Silence. For a moment, I thought maybe they'd finally left me alone, but then the knock came a third time. Seriously?

Annoyed, I stormed toward the door and flung it open, ready to tell off whatever poor hotel staff had decided to ignore my request. But my words died on my lips when I saw who was standing there.

Dominic.

I stared at him, my heart hammering in my chest. He looked calm, his dark eyes taking in the room behind me with casual indifference, as if he hadn't just shown up at my door unannounced. "How did you find me?" I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady.

He gave me a slow smile, stepping closer. "Livy, I'm one of the most powerful men in Malibu. Nothing happens without me knowing about it."

My stomach churned, disgust mixing with fear. "What does that even mean?" I backed up, putting some distance between us.

"It means," he continued, stepping inside uninvited, "that I put a tracker in your phone."

What?!

I recoiled, a sick sense of violation washing over me. "You're a pervert," I spat, rage flaring to life in my chest. I tried to slam the door in his face, but he caught it with ease, forcing his way inside.

Panic gripped me as I stumbled back, heart pounding. "You need to leave before I call the police," I warned, though my voice shook.

Dominic's smile faded, his eyes narrowing as he locked the door behind him. "Shut up, Livy."

I froze, terror clawing up my throat. What does he want?

His cold, commanding tone froze me in place. I'd never seen him like this before, so controlled, so… possessive. His eyes locked onto mine, dark and unreadable, and a shiver crawled up my spine. Tracker in my phone? Who the hell did he think he was?

"Get out," I hissed, stepping backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed. I needed distance, space to breathe, but he followed, closing the gap as if he owned it — as if he owned me.

"Get out?" he mocked, his lips curling into a sneer. "Is that how you thank someone who's come to rescue you from this pathetic little hole you've dug for yourself?"

I felt the heat of humiliation crawl up my neck. He had no right to barge in here, acting like he was doing me some favor. "I didn't ask for your help," I snapped, voice trembling with the rage bubbling inside me. "And I don't need it."

Dominic's eyes gleamed with a twisted amusement, as though my defiance was something he found amusing rather than threatening. "You don't need help?" he repeated, his tone mocking. "You're illegitimate. Penniless. You couldn't even afford a night in this run-down hotel if it weren't for the scraps you make as a maid." His voice turned sharp, like the crack of a whip. "You should be grateful for any help after everyone abandoned you."

His words hit like slaps, each one landing harder than the last. But I refused to let him see how much it hurt. "Oh, like you're one to talk?" I shot back, stepping closer, my anger overwhelming any fear. "You're the black sheep of your family! They hate you, Dominic. When was the last time your parents even spoke to you? When was the last time they even visited?"

I saw it — the brief flicker of something behind his eyes. Pain, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, it only lasted a second before his expression hardened into stone.

"You've forgotten your place," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

"My place?" I spat, my heart pounding so loud I could barely hear myself think. "My place is far, far away from you."

I didn't think; I just reacted. My hand flew up, aiming to slap that smug, self-righteous look right off his face. But before I could make contact, his hand shot out, catching my wrist in an iron grip.

He yanked me forward, slamming me against the wall so fast I barely had time to gasp. His body pressed against mine, hard and unyielding. I could feel the heat of him through my clothes, and a strange mix of fear and something else twisted in my stomach.

"You'll never escape again," he hissed into my ear, his breath hot on my skin.

My heart hammered in my chest, a frantic rhythm of panic and… something else. My body betrayed me in that moment, torn between the terror of being trapped and the undeniable pull of his presence. His hand tightened around my wrist, holding me in place, and I felt my pulse quicken under his grip.

I was aroused — and that realization horrified me.

Still, I couldn't move. My body went rigid, caught in the strange, suffocating mix of fear and… want. I hated myself for it, hated that I could feel this way about someone like him. But there it was, undeniable and unsettling.

His voice cut through the silence again, low and menacing. "You think you can just run from your past? From your family? You know nothing about tradition, about expectations. You live in a fantasy world, Livy. A world where you think you can defy everything, where you believe the lies they told you about being special."

I wanted to scream, to fight back, but his body pinned mine against the wall, pressing harder against me as if to remind me who was in control. His words were sharp, each one slicing deeper into my skin, leaving marks no one could see.

"The only reason you hate me," Dominic said, his voice a low rumble, "is because looking at me is like looking into a mirror."

I felt the breath leave my lungs. I hated him for saying it, but somewhere deep down, I knew he was right. We were the same, in ways I didn't want to admit. We both lived on the fringes, unwanted by our families, unloved, left to fend for ourselves in a world that didn't care whether we sank or swam.

But that didn't make me like him.

I lowered my gaze, unable to meet his eyes, but he wasn't having any of it. His fingers tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at him. "No," he said firmly. "Look at me. I want you to see exactly who you're dealing with."

Our faces were inches apart, our breaths mingling in the tense air between us. His dark eyes bore into mine, and despite everything in me that screamed to look away, I couldn't. I was trapped in his gaze, just like I was trapped against this wall, my body helpless under his grip.

And god, I hated him for being so… attractive.

Nathan had never been like this. He'd been easygoing, soft, gentle. He never pushed, never made me feel like I didn't have control. But Dominic? He was the opposite. Dominant. Unyielding. He commanded everything around him, including me, and I could feel that power wrapping around me like chains.

It was wrong. I knew it was wrong. And yet, that dark, twisted part of me that I didn't want to acknowledge was drawn to it. Drawn to him.

Dominic's body was solid against mine, his muscles taut with restrained energy. His scent, earthy and dark, filled my senses, and despite the fear gnawing at me, I couldn't deny the pull. It enticed me, called to me in a way Nathan never had.

I hated him for it.

"You think you can run from me, Livy?" His voice was quiet now, almost a whisper, but the threat was still there, sharp and clear. "You think you can escape?"

I didn't answer, couldn't answer. My throat felt tight, my words stuck somewhere deep inside me, locked away by fear and something else I didn't want to name.

"I don't think you hate me," he murmured, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against my ear. "I think you hate yourself. Because you know you can never really leave this life behind."

I swallowed hard, my gaze still locked on his. I wanted to deny it, wanted to scream at him, but he was right. There was no escape from this world, from the tangled web of family, tradition, and expectations.

He smirked, sensing my hesitation. "That's what I thought."

I wanted to attempt to slap that smug look off his face again, but I didn't move. I couldn't move. His words were sinking in, whether I liked it or not.

"Now," he said, his grip on my wrist tightening ever so slightly, "you're going to listen to me. And you're going to stop pretending that you can run from this. From me."

His body pressed harder against mine, and I could feel every inch of him, solid and in control. Despite everything, despite the fear, I couldn't help but admit it — he was right.

And I hated him for it.

"Are you listening?" he snapped me out of my daydreaming, finally releasing his grip on me, only to press wide palms against my hips, squeezing. It instantly drew a gasp from my lips, and I mumbled something unintelligible in response, unable to concentrate.

He sucked in a long breath through gritted teeth, before his body relaxed ever so slightly. "What am I going to do with you?" Dominic ran his fingers softly against the fabric of my dress, like he was searching for something. "Running off in the clothes I bought you. Who the fuck..." he leaned down and bit at the nape of my neck. "Do you think you are?"

"I...I don't...I don't know. I'm sorry," is all I could manage, unable to resist moving closer to his mouth, my heart almost beating out my chest. "I'm really sorry."

"You should be. You've been bad. Very bad," Dominic chastised, his pecks getting more aggressive, bordering on full fledged bites. He seemed to be equally affected as me, and I felt something throbbing against my thigh, begging to be released.

This was all new to me. Like I said before, Nathan didn't command, didn't make you feel two inches tall with every touch. In fact, he had been my "first time," and all I based my carnal knowledge on. This was something far darker, far above my comfort zone. And...it was okay.

"Bad girl."

"...yes. I'm a bad girl." I repeated submissively, but yet my fingers hesitantly fidgeted with his belt loop, my lips parting as I let the growing excitement overtake me.

Without warning, he roughly yanked and spun me around, my face now pressed against the cold glass of the balcony door, the city skyline below. "You're going to come back. You're going to stay, listen, and obey. We are going to finish the painting. Am I clear?" he asked, pulling my dress up enough to expose my ass, and the pink thong I was wearing; the only item of clothes I'd bought for myself. "You belong to me."

I whimpered, too afraid to turn my head and look at this...beast of a man. Instead I closed my eyes, thinking of how I was being put on display to passerby's, wearing my shame. "Yes. I understand."

There was a loud crack as his hand struck my left cheek, enough to illicit a small yelp from me. It hurt...but it only made me ache for more. "Who do you belong to?" Dominic inquired, before repeating the same motion on my right, far more intense than the first.

"Shit..." I stammered, knowing the sensitive skin was already red, the imprints marking me. "I...I belong to you Dominic." For some reason, in this moment all I wanted to do was be obedient, please him. My earlier defiance was nowhere to be found. "I belong to you."

"Wrong," he barked, with one hand wrapped around my throat to keep me still, the other spanking me in rapid succession. "Don't call me that. Don't you dare call me by my fucking name. Who am I?"

His question confused and exhilarated me. I'm a pretty 'vanilla' girl, and I frantically searched my mental banks for what Dominic could possibly be expecting me to respond with. "...Sir?"

Another brutal reprimand. I can feel my skin tingling, becoming more raw, more electrified with every blow. "Wrong again. Who am I?"

"....Daddy?" I guessed again, in between pathetic moans. Unconsciously, I began to rub my thighs together, hoping the friction would be enough to relieve the maddening pressure.

There was a pause, and then a grunt of disproval. "No. That's disgusting." Another impact, that left me lightheaded.

"Dom--I mean...um.." I shivered, ashamed at how warm I felt down below, unable to control myself.

"Master?"

I waited for another strike, but it never came. Instead, he sucked hard on my shoulder, enough to leave a hickey. I'd never even had a hickey before. "Yes. Master. Who do you belong to, Liv?" Dominic pressed one final time, grinding himself against my vulnerable body expectantly.

"I...I belong to you, Master," I responded, moving in rhythm with his imposing frame.

"Hm...not Nathan?" he probed further, tilting my head just enough to stare me deeply in the eyes. "He doesn't own you?"

I shook my head empathically. "No."

"You don't want my brother anymore?"

"No Master."

"He's not superior to me?"

"No Master."

"Does he make you feel this way?"

Exasperated, and sick of the talk, I shot back quickly. "No! I don't want him anymore! I hate him and he could die for all I care." That last part was a lie, but I would say anything to earn praise. I was never praised much in my life, and it felt nice. "You...you taste better than your brother."

What passed for a chuckle rumbled in his chest, and Dominic pulled away abruptly, leaving me a quaking mess. "Good girl. Now make yourself decent, get your shit and let's go. The parking costs a fortune."

Before I could protest, he spanked me one more time for good measure, and then breezed out of the hotel room, so pleased I swore he was humming.

That....that was it? 

I stood there, staring at the empty space where Dominic had just been. His words kept replaying in my mind—Swear obedience. My skin still tingled where his hands had touched me, and I hated how easily I had given in to him. What was wrong with me? I should have pushed back, resisted more. Instead, I melted like some lovesick fool the second he got close.

I threw my clothes into the suitcase, my hands shaking with frustration. I was so flustered, angry at myself for being so receptive to him. How did he get under my skin like that? As if I'd ever willingly submit to anyone, least of all him. And now he's gone—just like that—leaving me to pick up the pieces of whatever this is. The elevator doors closed in front of me as I headed down to the lobby, and all I could think was, What the hell have I gotten myself into?