Isabella left the room, her scent lingering in the air and the sound of her heels fading as she walked away. Jungkook was left on the bed, the humiliation of his situation burning in his mind. He clenched his fists, trying to calm the anger boiling inside him. How had he, Jungkook, one of the most feared mafia men in the world, ended up at the mercy of Isabella, the infamous mafia queen?

His pride was shattered. He had been dominated by her, played with like a toy, and worst of all, his body had responded to her every touch, betraying him. She was everything he wanted, and yet the way she had reduced him to nothing more than a plaything gnawed at his ego. He tried to come up with a plan to regain control, to turn the tables, but each time he thought of her, of the way she made him feel, his thoughts spiraled.

Hours passed, and as he lay there, still cuffed to the bed, his thoughts went over the moments they’d spent together. He hated the power she had over him, but he couldn’t deny the attraction he felt for her. It was more than just her looks. Isabella exuded strength, confidence, and danger. Everything about her drew him in, and he hated himself for wanting more of it.

The door creaked open again, and this time, Isabella returned, a smug smile on her face. She looked at him like he was nothing more than a trophy she had won, something to play with at her leisure.

"Miss me?" she asked, her voice dripping with amusement as she approached the bed.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched. He didn’t answer, though he felt his heart rate increase just at the sight of her. She sat down beside him, her fingers once again trailing across his bare chest, teasing him with light touches.

"You’ve been awfully quiet," she remarked, her voice soft but commanding. "What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, hmm?"

Jungkook turned his head away, refusing to meet her eyes. "You think you’ve won," he said quietly, his voice low and dangerous. "But this isn’t over."

Isabella laughed, a dark, melodic sound that sent chills down his spine. "Oh, Jungkook," she purred, leaning in closer. "You still don’t get it, do you? This was never a competition. You can’t win something you never had control over to begin with."

Her words hit him hard, but he refused to let her see just how deeply they cut. Instead, he turned back to her, his eyes hard with defiance. "We’ll see about that."

Isabella tilted her head, studying him for a moment, her smile widening. "You’re fun," she said, standing up from the bed. "But you’ll soon realize that no matter how much you fight it, you’ll never truly be free from me."

She took a step closer to him, her fingers wrapping around his jaw, forcing him to look at her. "You belong to me now, Jungkook. And I always get what I want."

Her lips brushed against his cheek before she pulled away, leaving him fuming on the bed. He wanted to rip her apart, to prove to her that no one could own him, but the way her fingers trailed over his skin, the way her eyes glinted with power and amusement, made him question everything.

Isabella left him alone again, but this time, he felt the weight of her words more heavily than before. She was right—she had complete control over him, and no matter how hard he tried to fight it, he was trapped in her web.

As night fell, Jungkook’s thoughts swirled in turmoil. His mind was filled with images of Isabella—her smile, her touch, the way she made him feel powerless and invincible at the same time. He hated her for it, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He needed a way out. He needed to escape her grasp, to regain control over his life and his emotions. But as he lay there, his body still reeling from her earlier taunts, he wondered if he truly wanted to escape at all.

Isabella crept silently into the room, her leather boots making no sound against the cold, hard floor. The room was dimly lit, with only a small lamp casting a faint glow over Jungkook’s sleeping form. He lay on the bed, his wrists raw and red from the harsh cuffs that had bound him for hours. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths, his face still tense even in sleep.

She moved with the precision of a predator, her eyes fixated on him as she approached the bed. She could see the marks left on his skin from the metal cuffs, and for a brief moment, a flicker of something soft crossed her expression. It was a rare emotion for Isabella, but seeing him like this, vulnerable and defenseless, stirred something in her.

Without a word, she crouched down next to him, carefully inspecting his wrists. The metal had dug into his skin, leaving angry red welts, and she frowned slightly, displeased with the brutality of it. As much as she enjoyed dominating him, she didn’t want to break him—at least, not like this.

Reaching into her jacket, she pulled out a small jar of ointment. The soothing salve was something she always carried with her, a necessity in her line of work. Carefully, she unscrewed the lid and dipped her fingers into the cool substance, gently rubbing it over the raw skin of his wrists. Her touch was featherlight, almost tender, as she worked the salve into his skin, making sure to soothe the irritation.

Jungkook stirred slightly in his sleep, his brow furrowing as if he could feel her presence even in unconsciousness. Isabella froze for a moment, watching him intently to ensure he didn’t wake. When he settled again, she resumed her task, her fingers moving with care and precision.

Once the ointment was applied, Isabella reached into her bag again, this time pulling out a set of velvet cuffs. They were soft, designed to be gentler on the skin, but still firm enough to keep him restrained. She carefully removed the metal cuffs from his wrists, wincing slightly at the harsh clinking sound they made, before slipping the velvet ones around his wrists.

The velvet felt luxurious against his skin, and Isabella smiled slightly, satisfied with her work. She tugged at the cuffs, making sure they were secure but not too tight. She didn’t want him to wake up in pain, not yet. She had plans for him, but those plans required him to be in the right state of mind, and for that, she needed him to be comfortable—for now.

With the cuffs in place, she stood up, observing him for a moment. He looked different when he was asleep. The tension that usually hardened his features had melted away, leaving him looking almost boyish, a stark contrast to the powerful mafia leader she knew him to be. But even in sleep, he was still hers, and that thought brought a smirk to her lips.

She leaned over him, her face inches from his as she studied his features. Her eyes traced the curve of his jaw, the shape of his lips, and for a brief moment, she felt an odd pull toward him. He was dangerous, yes, but there was something about him that intrigued her, something that went beyond the power struggle they were engaged in. She wasn’t sure if it was his defiance or the challenge he posed, but whatever it was, it made her want to keep him close.

Without thinking, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It was a fleeting moment, her lips barely brushing against his before she pulled back, but it was enough to stir something in her. She straightened up quickly, regaining her composure, her expression hardening once again.

Isabella wasn’t one for sentimentality. This was about power, control, and dominance. Jungkook was a means to an end, a pawn in her larger game, but she couldn’t deny the strange connection she felt with him. It was dangerous, but it excited her. She thrived on danger, after all.

Before leaving the room, she cast one last glance at him, her eyes lingering on his sleeping form. She made sure everything was in place—the cuffs, the ointment, everything was as it should be. Satisfied, she turned and quietly slipped out of the room, leaving him alone once more.

As she walked down the hallway, the sound of her heels echoed through the mansion, her thoughts drifting to the future. She knew that Jungkook would wake up soon, and when he did, he would find himself in a slightly different situation. The velvet cuffs would be a small comfort, a reminder that while she was in control, she wasn’t cruel—at least, not yet.

Isabella smirked to herself as she descended the stairs, her mind already planning their next encounter. Jungkook was strong, but she was stronger. She had the upper hand, and she intended to keep it that way. But there was something about him that made her want to push further, to see just how far she could take this game of theirs.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she walked into her study and poured herself a glass of wine. As she sipped the deep red liquid, she thought of Jungkook, still lying in her bed, still bound but cared for in a way he would never expect from her.

It was a strange thing, this feeling of control mixed with tenderness, but it was one she enjoyed. She would take care of him, in her own way, and he would soon realize that being hers wasn’t just about domination—it was about possession. And Isabella took very good care of what was hers.

As the night wore on, Isabella allowed herself to relax, knowing that everything was in place. Jungkook was hers now, whether he wanted to be or not, and she had no intention of letting him go. This was just the beginning of their twisted relationship, and she couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.