LISA POV

I awoke bathed in sunlight, my body aching with a pain that seemed to linger from the night before. Confusion washed over me as memories of last night flooded my mind. He treated me like a doll, yet his demeanor was animalistic, leaving me with a mix of sensations I couldn't comprehend.

The internal conflict raged within me as Taehyung's touch lingered, his words echoing in my mind. "Your fear only fuels my desire. You belong to me now, and I expect obedience." The intensity in the air was suffocating as his firm grip persisted. My resistance met with unyielding strength.

In the quiet recesses of my mind, a storm of thoughts brewed. "How can I enjoy his touch?" The question lingered, a whisper of conflicting desires tugging at my conscience. The turmoil within me exposed vulnerabilities that I grappled to comprehend.

"Why am I being so toxic, even to my innermost thoughts?" I mused, attempting to dissect the internal struggle. The awareness that Taehyung was manipulating my mind loomed large. I understood that he believed he could break me, but a spark of defiance ignited within me—I was determined not to let him.

"But how can I protect my own body?" I questioned myself, a plea for self-preservation in the face of his overwhelming dominance. The promises he made when he touched me were haunting, and the prospect of begging him was something I vehemently resisted.

As I wrestled with these conflicting emotions, a resolve to assert my freedom flickered within me. I grappled with the unsettling dance of desire and defiance, aware that navigating Taehyung's intricate web would require a delicate balance—one that safeguarded both my physical and emotional well-being.

The hysteria in my room served as a visual reminder of the forbidden encounter. Among the scattered items, I noticed a package and the remnants of the tools my stepbrother Taehyung had used on me. The vibrators and handcuffs, now abandoned, hinted at the intensity of my experience.

Examining my wrists, I observed a faint redness, a subtle but tangible mark of the passionate escapade. The conflicting emotions within me created a swirl of guilt and pleasure, a memory etched in the corners of my consciousness. During the aftermath, I grappled with conflicting feelings, unsure how to process the vivid recollections.

Recalling his words, a rush of emotions propelled me out of bed. I swiftly gathered the remnants of the night into the box, my gaze lingering on the handcuffs. The confusion about his actions and my part in the encounter gnawed at me.

Placing the handcuffs in the package, I navigated to my closet, concealing the box with meticulous care to shield it from prying eyes. Surveying the aftermath in my room—the disarray and the ruined bed sheets—I unconsciously bit my lip, a physical manifestation of the inner turmoil that accompanied the memories of that intense night.

I proceeded to tidy up the remnants of our encounter, restoring order to my disheveled room. The memories lingered, making each movement feel deliberate and contemplative. After restoring a semblance of normalcy, I headed to the bathroom, seeking solace in the cleansing ritual of a bath.

Emerging from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, I moved gracefully to my closet. With careful consideration, I selected a dress along with a matching bra and panties. As I dressed, the fabric against my skin seemed to ground me, offering a welcome distraction from the whirlwind of emotions that still echoed in my mind.

Exiting my room, I made my way to the main living room. A scene unfolded there: my stepmother, stepsister Jennie, stepbrother Taehyung, and my father engaged in a discussion within the opulent surroundings. The air hummed with unspoken tension as I navigated through the room, acutely aware of the clandestine events of the previous night casting a shadow over the present moment.

Everyone was seated at the dining table, including Taehyung. I gulped as he stared at me with a piercing gaze. When my father greeted me with, "My dear princess, good morning; I hope you are fine," Turning to my parents, I smiled, "Morning," to which my stepmother reciprocated with warm smiles, saying, "Good morning, sweetie." As I saw, there was only one place beside Taehyung I took a seat next to him.

Glancing at Taehyung, he was sipping his coffee, wearing a black suit that accentuated his muscles, stylishly groomed hair, and an expensive-looking diamond watch matching his outfit. Placing the coffee cup on the table, he turned his head towards me, catching me off guard. I blushed and looked away, feeling his eyes lingering on me and my outfit.

"I was ready to tear down your outfit if it were revealing, even the tiniest bit," Taehyung whispered, his hand resting on my thigh, causing me to turn even redder. Stammering, I managed, "T-tore it?" Taehyung was looking at me with his deadly yet soft eyes.

My father noticed the interaction, looked at me, and said, "Well, last night we wanted to tell you that Jeon's family has accepted Jennie. They wanted to arrange the marriage in one month, but Taehyung insisted on doing it sooner. Today, he'll be taking you and Jennie shopping. It's a chance for you all to enjoy this." Gulping, I replied, "It's amazing. I'm happy for my sister," she said, glancing at Jennie, who shot me a glaring look.

As my father announced the impending marriage, Taehyung's possessive demeanor became more pronounced. His hand on my thigh tightened slightly, and his gaze grew more intense. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of his words.

Trying to change the subject, I commented on the shopping plans. "Shopping sounds fun. It'll be a great distraction," I said, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. Taehyung, however, wasn't easily swayed. "I can't wait to see you in the outfits I choose," he murmured, his lips grazing my ear. A shiver ran down my spine as I tried to maintain composure.

I consumed my food in silence, the atmosphere heavy with the unspoken tension surrounding Taehyung's possessiveness. Once I finished, I rose from my seat and uttered, "I'm done." My dad offered a reassuring smile, saying, "Have fun, dear. Now, get ready.".

As I nodded, a mix of emotions played on my face: uncertainty, apprehension, and a hint of resignation. The impending shopping trip, orchestrated by Taehyung, loomed ahead, and I couldn't shake off the feeling that it would only tighten the invisible chains around me.

I went to my room, and as I went towards my closet, I hastily changed into the clothes for shopping and got ready with some mild requirements. I needed to brush my hair even though I applied perfume, my hands trembling with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. Taehyung's possessive words from the previous night echoed in my mind, leaving me feeling more apprehensive than brave.

The knot of fear in my stomach tightened with each passing moment, and an uneasy feeling settled over me as I prepared to face the outside world under Taehyung's watchful gaze. Stepping out of my room, I found Jennie, my stepsister, already prepared for the shopping expedition.

Her demeanor displayed a mixture of excitement and impatience. As I walked towards the main hall, I noticed my dad and stepmother waiting, their expressions a blend of anticipation and mild concern. Jennie shot me a glance, a smirk playing on her lips as if she could sense my unease. Suppressing my anxiety, I approached the trio, and my stepmother commented, "Finally, you're ready. Let's not keep Taehyung waiting."

The mention of Taehyung sent a shiver down my spine, and I forced a faint smile. As we headed towards the door, the weight of Taehyung's possessiveness hung heavily in the air, intensifying the internal struggle between fear and the desire to stand my ground.

"The driver will take me shopping." I try to speak to Taehyung, attempting to maintain a sense of independence. I smiled and began to leave, but my attempt at autonomy was abruptly halted by Taehyung's assertive voice. "I will go with you, dear Lisa. I am here, so why do you want to go with a stranger? I mean with guards or drivers? We are all family, isn't it?" He declared, grabbing his iPhone and rising, daring anyone to object to his decision.

My stepmother and dad exchanged looks, staring at Taehyung's departing figure. I looked at them, but they simply smiled, leaving me with a sigh as I reluctantly dragged my body out of the mansion, sporting a pout. I couldn't help but harbor conflicting emotions—a strong dislike for him yet an underlying uncertainty about my true feelings. I observed his figure leaning against the black matte Lamborghini Veneno, one of a limited edition.

The luxurious car only added to the aura of control he seemed to exert over every situation. As Taehyung looked at his guards, he instructed, "Take my Jennie princess in the Range Rover. Let people know the bride has arrived for shopping." Jennie smiled and responded, "Brother, you are amazing. My friends wanted to come too; can I allow them?" His smile widened, and he said, "Why not, my dear sister? Take my card and enjoy shopping with your girls."

The atmosphere shifted as the attention turned from me to Jennie, and I found myself grappling with the intricacies of the situation. Jennie spoke up, questioning, "Brother, why are you taking her with you?" Taehyung smiled and replied, "Don't get involved in my matters, dear. Now, go and enjoy; we will join you later."

Confusion clouded my thoughts as I tried to comprehend why he permitted Jennie to go with a guard while denying me the same. He handed the card to her, and Jennie departed with the guard, leaving me to ponder the unequal dynamics at play in Taehyung's realm.

Clutching the straps of my bag tightly, I continued to sulk as he smirked and got inside the Lamborghini. Moving toward the passenger side, I reluctantly got in, still annoyed. Taehyung started the engine and drove off.

"What's with the pout doll?" he teased, and I turned to him. "Nothing," I replied, facing the road ahead. He took my hand in his and kissed it, eliciting a blush. Confusion filled my mind—what was happening to me?

"I love your smile better," he said, and I looked at him. His gaze lingered on me for a moment before returning to the road. Why was he acting like this? Despite his insistence that we weren't stepsiblings, the ambiguity of our relationship perplexed me.

Even though I didn't want to speak, I heard him asking, "What are you thinking?" I replied while looking at him, "When I'll be free from you, I'm just trying to figure out why you're doing this to me when you have so many women. You're only torturing me, brother."

He grabbed my chin, asserting, "Because I want you to get this into your head that I don't care what you think because there is something you need to understand: I never do anything without purpose." I winced in pain and retorted, "So now hurting me is also your purpose in doing all this for property." He smiled, his expression unyielding, and said, "Let's not talk about this all. Did I hurt you with my words, Lisa?" His tone softened, attempting to shift the focus away from the pain inflicted.

I turned my head toward the window, harboring a hateful gaze. I didn't want to waste my words on him. Despite my silence, I felt his body shifting toward me, and he began to sniff my hair. An instinctive discomfort prompted me to push him slightly with my elbow, but within a second, he pinned me to the seat and slammed his lips onto mine.

He kissed me with full dominance, locking my hand in a tight grip. The forcefulness of the kiss spoke volumes about his control, leaving me in a conflicted state, torn between resistance and an undeniable undercurrent of desire.

I struggled and whimpered against his mouth, but he didn't let me move, kissing me wildly. He only released my lips when satisfied, leaving me startled by the bulging presence now poking me. He joined his forehead with mine as I started to wiggle beneath him. "Don't move like that. Do you want me to fuck you here?" he whispered, heating my face.

"How do you feel when I kiss you?" he asked, looking at my lips. "I felt like puking," I stated angrily. His eyes were now sparkling, and he had a smug smile on his lips. "Then why did you move your lips? he said huskily. "I didn't move my lips... it's you who was kissing me... I never kissed you back!" I yelled, frustration and anger lacing my words.

His smirk only widened, further fueling my irritation. "But you enjoyed my touch... you like it when I lick your navel... you like it when I touch you there... you like it when I kiss your thighs... you like it when I tease you..." He continued listing my supposed pleasures, each word intensifying my discomfort.

His grip tightened on my chin as he said, "Are you trying to be brave, Lisa?" I trembled, my plea escaping involuntarily, "Please not here." The car seemed to echo with the tension between us, his laughter ringing in my ears as we neared our destination.

As the car came to a stop, his guards efficiently opened the doors, and Taehyung gracefully exited the Car. The complex dance of our interactions continued a silent agreement weaving through the air. We had reached our destination, and the delicate balance between us held, shrouding the boundaries of our relationship in uncertainty.

Stepping out, we saw that Jennie had already arrived with her friends. As we approached, she shot me a disapproving glare and remarked, "I don't know, brother, why you brought that useless person." The weight of her words hung in the air, intensifying the tensions that had already gripped our complicated dynamic.

Whispering to her discreetly, I expressed, "Sister, I never hated you. But why do you always resent me? I understand we're step-siblings, but I love you as if you were my own." The tension between us lingered, a silent plea for understanding beneath the surface of strained familial ties. Jennie's resentment lingered, and as Taehyung observed, he voiced, "Her presence doesn't even seem worth your bother."

His words held a subtle suggestion to reconsider the emotional toll of the strained relationship. I nodded, grappling with the conflicting emotions that echoed in the strained silence. The intricate dynamics of our interactions continued to cast shadows, leaving me torn between familial ties and the realization that some bridges might remain perpetually difficult to cross.

I glanced down, feeling a mix of sadness and pain, as my stepbrother, Taehyung, spoke reassuringly, "Go and enjoy yourself with your friend. I'll keep an eye on her. I don't want your mood ruined because of her." His words held a protective intent, but the underlying tension was palpable.

Jennie responded with a feigned appreciation, "Sure, brother. I'm happy that you always think about my happiness." Taehyung, however, glared at her, asserting, "Now, go and enjoy. When you're done, inform my guard they will take you to the mansion ." The intricate dynamics of our relationships unfolded, leaving me torn between gratitude for Taehyung's concern and the ache of realizing that familial bonds weren't always as supportive as they should be.

After a while, I noticed that we were accompanied by another car, from which two large men dressed in black emerged. Taehyung swiftly grabbed my hand, leading me to one of the main streets. His associates followed discreetly, maintaining a distance meant to avoid drawing too much attention.

The first store we entered was an expansive boutique. As we crossed the threshold, the saleswoman hurried towards us, warmly welcoming Taehyung and then me. An elegant older man emerged from the back room, greeting Taehyung. "It is so great to meet you, sir." Taehyung just nodded, and he then turned towards me.

"Beautiful," Keenan said, gently holding my hands. A radiant smile adorned my face, gratitude emanating from my eyes in response to the heartfelt compliment. "My name is Keenan, and I will assist you in selecting the perfect wardrobe," he began fluently, his words carrying a sense of genuine warmth. "Her size is 36, I think?" he inquired, turning to me for confirmation.

Taehyung interjected, his eyes fixed on me, "It is 34. And help her with choosing." His gaze held a subtle intensity, a silent command for both me and Keenan to adhere to his instructions. The mention of my size sent a flush of warmth to my cheeks, and I lowered my gaze, momentarily overwhelmed by the attention and the intricacies of the situation.

Keenan nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes briefly meeting mine with a reassuring smile. "Of course," he responded smoothly, seamlessly adapting to the shift in details. The air in the room seemed to thicken with unspoken dynamics, the collaborative effort to choose the right wardrobe tinged with an undercurrent of tension and expectation.

Confused, I watched as Taehyung took an active role in instructing, "I want a beautiful gown for her for a wedding and also some lingerie, and some more dresses for her, and also some casual wear and heels." Blushing, I couldn't fathom why he was involving himself so much in selecting clothes for me.

Keenan exclaimed, "Well if you are his woman, he knows everything. Let's go and let Sir Taehyung rest and let's go for the trying." The dynamics in the room shifted, with Keenan and his staff taking charge of the wardrobe selection as instructed by Taehyung, leaving me to navigate the whirlwind of emotions and uncertainties surrounding my relationship with Taehyung.

Taehyung settled on a silver-material couch resembling an atlas. As he sat down, a cold bottle of wine awaited him, and a grateful saleswoman filled his glass. Taehyung gave me a lustful look, covering himself with a newspaper, while Keenan brought dozens of dresses to the fitting room. After trying them on, I made selections, beautifully packed in decorative boxes.

The pattern repeated itself in subsequent stores—Prada, Louis Vuitton, Chanel, and finally Victoria's Secret and Celine. Each time, Taehyung would sit down, flipping through newspapers, talking on the phone, or checking something on the iPhone. He seemed disinterested in me, which was both enjoyable and annoying.

I couldn't comprehend: this morning, he couldn't tear himself away from me, and now, with the opportunity to witness me in these creations, he showed no interest. Taehyung guided me to sit on an opulent couch as several staff members entered, each carrying a selection of exquisite footwear, including delicate heels. He spoke with an air of authority, "I want the most perfect fit for her and also something delicate."

The staff laid out an array of heels before us, each pair seemingly more enchanting than the last. Taehyung scrutinized them with a discerning eye, looking for the perfect match. As I sat on the couch, the staff members knelt, delicately placing different heels on my feet, ensuring the perfect fit and comfort. Taehyung observed with a keen interest, his eyes reflecting a desire for perfection in every detail. The room transformed into a scene reminiscent of a fairy tale, with the staff playing the role of fairy godmothers, and presenting me with an array of Cinderella-like heels.

Amidst the delicate clinking of shoes and the hushed murmurs of the staff, the scene unfolded like a dream. Taehyung's insistence on perfection and delicacy created an atmosphere that seemed to transcend reality as if we were crafting a magical moment in time.

When Taehyung finally decided on the perfect footwear, and I felt the comfort and elegance in his choices, a conflicted emotion stirred within me. The enchanting setting clashed with the resentment I harbored towards him. Despite the luxury surrounding me, the discomfort of being under his control overshadowed any appreciation for the exquisite details.

As I admired the Cinderella-like heels on my feet, a bitter taste lingered in my mouth. The beauty of the moment clashed with the underlying tension, creating a paradoxical experience that left me torn between the allure of the enchanting scene and the resentment simmering beneath the surface.

The conflicting emotions unfolded in the intricacies of our shopping spree. Following Keenan's instruction, "Now go, beautiful, and check yourself in this dress," I nodded and took the package from his hand, making my way towards the changing room.

Once I got inside, I carefully stripped myself of my current attire, allowing the fabric to fall to the floor. Bending down, I delicately pulled the lace half-strings of the new dress over my legs, the material cascading into place. Upon straightening up and examining myself in the mirror, I was startled to find Taehyung standing behind me.

The sudden presence of him in the room caught me off guard, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of confusion and curiosity. Why had he come, and why had he brought me so many dresses? The air became charged with unspoken questions and a palpable tension as I awaited an explanation.

He leaned against the fitting room wall, hands in his pockets, scrutinizing me from head to toe. I turned to him, glaring. "What are you?" I managed to choke out before he swiftly grabbed my neck, pressing my back against the mirror.

His body clung to mine, and he gently ran his thumb over my lips. I was paralyzed by his tense presence, restricting my every movement. He ceased playing with my mouth and extended his arm back to my neck. The embrace wasn't forceful; he didn't need it to be. It was a subtle display of dominance, leaving me captivated and conflicted in the confined space of the fitting room.

Taehyung's possessiveness lingered in the air as he asserted, "I don't want anyone else seeing what's mine." I met his gaze firmly and replied, "I appreciate your concern, but I'll handle my clothing choices. There is no need for tearing or intervention."

TAEHYUNG POV

As she departed, I turned to Keenan with a determined expression and asserted, "I want the most sexy and luxurious lingerie for her, maybe about 10 sets, and I'll also decide the dresses for her." Keenan chuckled, teasingly remarking, "You've never come to shop for any girl; you just sent guards to make these women happy, but you're here just for that beautiful girl. It's amazing, and I think you will like the new collection for your girl."

I smiled in acknowledgment and replied, "She is something more than any woman. She is the girl I own, and she is just mine." Keenan smiled back knowingly and said, "You're in love." I chuckled, attempting to dismiss the notion: "Maybe, but I don't think I am in love."

Keenan continued, "But soon she will wrap you around her finger. She is very beautiful, like a doll, and you are the most handsome man I have ever seen. If you choose her, maybe she is very special." The exchange revealed a shared understanding of the intricate dynamics at play and an unspoken recognition of something extraordinary in the air.

Smiling, I conceded, "Maybe only she can fix me, and no one else can." The vulnerability in those words hinted at a deeper connection, acknowledging the transformative power this woman held over me and challenging the boundaries I had long guarded. Keenan said, looking at me, "I will order my staff to bring the collection, and I know you will love them all." I nodded, appreciating his support, as he left the room, leaving behind an air of anticipation for what lay ahead.

As I gazed at the changing room, I couldn't resist the urge, and my leg moved towards it. Slowly opening the door, I caught a glimpse of Lisa. Bending down, she delicately pulled the lace half-strings over her legs. Upon straightening up and examining herself in the mirror, I stood there, having entered unnoticed. I had brought her a plethora of dresses, indulging in the desire to see her adorned in various attires.

Leaning against the fitting room wall, hands in my pockets, I scrutinized her from head to toe. She turned to me, glaring. "What are you?" she managed to choke out before I swiftly grabbed her neck, pressing her back against the mirror.

Our bodies were entwined, and I gently ran my thumb over her lips. She was paralyzed, my tense presence restricting her every movement. I ceased playing with her mouth and extended my arm back to her neck. The embrace wasn't forceful; I didn't need it to be. It was a subtle display of dominance, leaving her captivated and conflicted in the confined space of the fitting room.

At that moment, the desire to possess her and to exert control surged within me. The confined space amplified the intensity of our connection, and as I held her, the conflicting emotions danced between dominance and a subtle acknowledgment of the allure she held over me.

"Don't move," I said, piercing her with icy, wild eyes. I looked down and groaned softly. "You look nice. I want to see you like that in my arms," I hissed through my teeth. She ripped her buttocks from the cold mirror and slowly began to take the first step. I didn't object; I moved away in rhythm with her walk, keeping her within arm's reach, my hand still clamped on her neck.

When she was sure she was far enough from the mirror for me to see her completely, she looked at me. As expected, my gaze was fixed on her reflection. I watched my prey, and she could see my pants getting too tight. My breathing became louder, my chest rising faster.

"Taehyung," she said softly. I looked away from her buttocks and into her eyes. "Why are you behaving like this? Why are you doing this? I can't understand it, but I am not scared of you," she growled, trying to scowl. I smiled, treating her words as a challenge. My hand tightened around her neck.

My eyes burned with anger and desire. I took a step forward, then another, pressing her body against the cold mirror. Eventually, I released her neck and said in a calm tone, "I will decide when I will see it, and yes, you should be scared of me because I always choose to own things that I love to keep."

She tried to push me away, but then I held her and kissed her neck. She trembled and said, "Please don't do it here. We are in the changing room, and people might think wrong. Please don't.". Ignoring her plea, I held her firmly, my lips trailing along her neck. "Why does it matter what people think? I decide when and where," I whispered, my voice low and seductive. Her attempts to resist only fueled my desire for dominance. As she continued to protest, the intensity of my gaze matched the fire in her eyes. "You're mine, and I'll do as I please," I declared, my actions unrestrained.

The confined space of the changing room seemed to amplify the tension between us. My hands explored the curves of her body, and despite her verbal resistance, her body responded to the magnetic pull between us. The forbidden thrill heightened the sense of urgency.

She sees me with horror, saying, "No, don't do that here." I kiss her and respond, "How can I control myself when you look so sexy and beautiful cute, Lisa? Let me have you; I want you now." She bites her lips and sits there, looking at me.

She stood there, uncertainty and desire flickering in her eyes, creating a captivating blend of emotions. As I stepped closer, the air became charged with tension, and I continued to gaze into her eyes. "You can't resist me, Lisa," I murmured, my voice low and seductive. "But I will still protect you, and I know the boundaries of this place. Even though I can do anything here, I won't, because it's a matter of your comfort, my doll. I understand I can't always control myself, but I respect your comfort zone. Still, I love to touch you and tease you."

My hands delicately traced a path along her waist, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. She shivered, caught amid conflicting forces—restraint and longing. The dance between our desires hung in the air, creating a palpable tension that added to the charged atmosphere.

With a sudden surge of passion, I held her closer to the changing room, her soft gasp mingling with the charged atmosphere. My lips find hers, and for a moment, the world outside fades away. Her resistance wavers as the intensity of the moment envelopes us. The confined space amplifies the raw desire between us, creating a bubble where time seems to stand still.

Her protests turned into soft gasps as I continued to explore, leaving a trail of heat and anticipation. The encounter, though brief, left an indelible mark on the charged atmosphere. As I released her, she was left breathless, her disheveled appearance reflecting the intensity of the moment. "I want to please you, my doll. I just want to make you forget the world around us. I want you to accept that you also need me.".

I went down to her and pulled off her inners. As I went to her womanhood, she moaned and tried to get away, but then she decided to give up slowly as I gave her pleasure after a while of exploring her. She came into my mouth as I stood up. I seized her upper arm, my tone ominous. "What's happened? You're not going to resist me now," I declared.

She chuckled, the sound carrying a painful undertone, and replied, "How can I when my brother is a monster? No one will listen, and I can't speak because I know people will judge me—not you, 'brother'." As she spoke, a mixture of despair and frustration colored her words. Drawing her closer, I retorted with a threatening edge, "Dare to call me brother again, and I swear I'll make you regret it as I shove my dick inside your mouth." My grip on her neck tightened from behind, conveying a possessive intensity. I saw a redness on her cheeks, as she just moved her gaze away from me.

"I will break every finger and slice through anyone who dares to judge you, Lisa. It's you who don't want to let yourself feel. I'll destroy anyone who points a finger because you are my woman and mine alone." The atmosphere crackled with a blend of tension, vulnerability, and the dark undercurrents of possessiveness.

Leaning in with a furtive smile, I whispered, "Now, let's continue our shopping, shall we? From now on, I'll choose what you wear. Just put them on." She glanced at me, questioning, "Why can't I choose my clothes?" Smirking, I asserted, "Because I have a right over you. I'll ensure you look good for me. No man will dare to glance at you. Stay here; I'll send you a dress you're going to wear now. I know which dress will suit you more, Lisa."

Lisa challenged me, "How will you know what will suit me? It should be me who can choose dresses. I don't trust your choices." I responded while looking at her, "You are also my choice; does it have to be the worst or the most beautiful?" The echoes of my words lingered in the small space, emphasizing the control I sought to exert and the complex dynamic of our relationship.

A tense silence hung in the air as Lisa met my gaze, her eyes reflecting a mix of defiance and uncertainty. Despite her resistance, I remained unyielding, determined to assert my dominance in this intricately woven power play."You are also my choice; does it have to be the worst or the most beautiful?" I repeated, my tone unwavering. The words lingered, underscoring the control I sought over her decisions and the subtle manipulation inherent in our exchange.

Lisa, visibly conflicted, retorted, "But it's about my comfort and style. I should be the one choosing." Her words carried a plea for autonomy, a desire to reclaim control over her own choices. I know what she likes, and her choice will be mine. I know she will love my choices for her, as I have always observed her styles, but now I will choose them with a hint of my desire. I smirked a flicker of amusement in my eyes. "Your comfort and style will be defined by me, Lisa. I know what suits you, what enhances your beauty." The assertion in my voice left little room for negotiation.

As she hesitated, torn between asserting her independence and succumbing to my influence, I kissed her cheek and said, "I will send you the staff, and they will help you. Now relax, I won't do anything further here, Lisa." She looked at me, her gaze a mixture of distrust and defiance. "I can't trust you, but now go from there. I don't want to be scandalized myself with you." Her words carried a hint of resistance and a desire to maintain her action. I sighed, recognizing that arguing with her would only escalate the tension and potentially lead to harm. "Fine," I conceded, reluctantly stepping away. "I'll let the staff assist you. But remember, I'm doing this for your better."

The atmosphere hung heavy with unspoken conflict as I left the room, leaving her to grapple with the complexities of our dynamic and the control I sought to wield over her. As the changing room door swung open, it revealed the curious gaze of the boutique staff. Casually stepping out, I left her to gather herself, a mixture of confusion and desire lingering in the air. The intricate dance of power and passion continued as we ventured further into the world of luxury and desire.

Noticing Keenan looking at me, I said, "Sir, is everything fine?" I glared at him and replied, "Yes, I was just checking on my woman. Is there any problem?" The tension between possessiveness and autonomy was palpable in the air as the peculiar encounter unfolded in the opulent setting.

Keenan shook his head, responding with a quick "no." As I scanned the staff, who were holding an array of dresses and gowns, I turned to him and instructed, "I like all the dresses, so now instruct your staff to hand them to her; she'll wear one now." The authority in my voice mirrored the control I sought to maintain over the unfolding scene.

Taking a seat, Keenan swiftly relayed my request to the boutique staff. A young woman, clad in the boutique's uniform, walked purposefully toward the changing room, a neatly folded dress in her hands. With a polite nod, she handed the frock-style dress to Lisa, who stood behind the door.

Lisa took the dress, a silent acknowledgment of the power dynamics at play. The girl staff member discreetly retreated, leaving Lisa to face the choice before her. The air in the boutique hung thick with a charged atmosphere as the scene unfolded, each movement echoing the intricate dance of dominance between us.

As Lisa emerged from behind the door, the frock draped elegantly around her, and her gaze met mine with a subtle defiance. The tension in the air heightened as the boutique's staff discreetly observed the unfolding dynamics. I gestured for Lisa to join me, and she walked towards me, the soft fabric of the dress swaying with each step. Keenan, sensing the gravity of the moment, stood at a respectful distance.

"You look exquisite," I remarked, my words laced with possessiveness. Lisa, though adorned in the dress of my choosing, maintained a sense of silent rebellion in her demeanor. I glanced at Keenan and commanded, "Pack all the dresses and the footwear; load them into my car." The air of authority in my voice echoed through the boutique as Keenan swiftly moved to carry out my instructions.

The boutique staff is now engaged in a flurry of activity. As I stood up, Lisa followed suit, my grip firm on her. We exited the store to find that the staff had efficiently packed the purchased items into the car. My guards, ever vigilant, stood by. As Lisa and I entered the car, one guard opened the door for us.

However, Lisa, now in the confined space of the car, attempted to pull away from me. Her words spilled out, a mixture of desperation and confusion. "Please stop this. I can't understand all of this. Once you treated me like a... then you are doing... What do you need from me? I am just confused, just destroyed by you." The turmoil in her voice echoed the complexity of emotions entwined in our peculiar relationship.

I chuckled, my tone filled with dark amusement. "I took you shopping to buy some sexy dresses and lingerie for you to wear, all for me. That's it," I declared. Her smile wavered, replaced by a mix of confusion and discomfort. "I don't understand, but I feel like you're making me crazy, brother—I mean, Taehyung. I feel like you're playing with everything in me. I can't bear this pain; I want to hide myself from you," she confessed, her words revealing the emotional turmoil within.

Despite her emotional confession, I maintained a composed facade, struggling to admit the depth of my feelings for her. "It's all for a reason, Lisa," I replied cryptically. As I drove, the guard called, informing me that Jennie had completed her wedding shopping with her friend. Uninterested in engaging with anyone but Lisa, I instructed the guard to take Jennie to the mansion.

Upon reaching the mansion, the guards awaited us. As I stopped the car, they opened the doors, and we stepped out. "Take all the packages to Lisa's room and ensure the maid places them as they are," I instructed with a firm gaze. They nodded in acknowledgment.

Lisa and I entered the main hall, where Jennie was there with my mother and stepfather. Their eyes shifted to me, and at that moment, the guards returned with the packages. My mother intercepted them, questioning their destination. "Where are you taking these packages?".

"I ordered them to be placed in Lisa's room; they're hers," I stated with a firm resolve, intervening as my mother cast a skeptical glance at the guards. The exchange of a meaningful look with the guards signaled them to proceed, yet the tension in the air remained thick, swirling around like an unspoken storm.

"Well, I hope it was an enjoyable day for you all." My stepfather attempted to diffuse the palpable unease, his voice carrying a hint of concern. "Yes, Dad, it was amazing," Lisa replied, her words a carefully crafted facade concealing the complexities beneath. I observed her, silently navigating the social intricacies, as I made my way to my room, the weight of unspoken words lingering between us.

However, my stepfather, sensing something amiss, pressed further. "Taehyung, what happened? Are you not joining us for dinner?" His gaze bore into mine, seeking answers. "I have some work to do," I replied, my tone guarded, meeting his gaze before retreating to the refuge of my room.

Once inside, I sensed my mother following me. The door closed with a soft click, enclosing us in a confined space fraught with tension. Her questioning eyes probed, "What is this, Taehyung? Why make her buy clothes she doesn't need?"

Glaring at her, I tightened my grip on her arm, the frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Don't dare to defy my decision, Mother. Do you want Wang Kim to get suspicious? I'm trying to maintain control over her," I warned, the undertones of a deeper motive echoing in the shadows.

Unable to unveil my true feelings for Lisa, I resolved to gradually expose my intentions after Jennie's wedding. A silent oath echoed within me, promising to seize all power when the opportune moment arrived, unveiling my true colors to the world.

In the delicate dance of manipulation, I locked eyes with my mother, an unspoken understanding lingering between us. "This isn't just about shopping, Mother. It's about control," I whispered, my voice in a carefully measured tone. "I can't let Lisa slip away, not when she holds a significant role in this intricate game."

My mother, though initially defiant, seemed to soften under the weight of my words. "Taehyung, you know your father doesn't trust easily. We must tread carefully." I nodded, feigning agreement while concealing the storm of conflicting emotions within me. "Exactly, Mother. This is about keeping up appearances and maintaining the facade of a united family. Lisa is a crucial piece in this puzzle, and I can't afford any missteps."

As I manipulated my mother's apprehensions, I couldn't escape the pang of guilt for hiding my genuine attachment to Lisa. She was more than a mere chess piece in my game; she was the anchor to my emotions, a sentiment I buried beneath layers of deception.

Despite my mother's disapproval of Lisa, my connection with her extended beyond the physical and emotional boundaries dictated by our family ties. The complexity of these feelings weighed heavily on my shoulders, and I tread carefully, weaving an intricate web of manipulation to shield Lisa from familial disdain.

The game had intensified, and I played my part meticulously, concealing my true intentions and manipulating the pieces on the board, all while wrestling with the growing conflict within. "Okay, take a rest. I'll send you dinner," my mother insisted. "No, there's no need to worry about it. I'm fine," I replied, attempting to reassure her as I brushed off any concern.

She nodded and then left. As I sighed, my phone buzzed with a call from Rose. I groaned, answering to hear her desperate plea, "Taehyung, I want to meet you. I can't live without you." Bored by her constant appeals, I coldly replied, "I don't even want to see you, Rose." She trembled, insisting, "Just one time, I need to meet you."

I sighed, relenting. "Come tomorrow to my place; I'll meet you." With that, I ended the call, tossing my iPhone onto the bed. Disgruntled, I headed to the bathroom, seeking solace in the sanctuary of the shower.

The water cascaded over me, a relentless stream that seemed to wash away the complexities of the day. Each droplet echoed the conflict within, a silent witness to the intricate dance of relationships and hidden motives. The steam enveloped the room, a shroud of secrecy that mirrored the layers of deception I navigated.

As the water cleansed my body, I couldn't help but ponder the tangled threads of emotions and commitments that bound me. In the solitude of the shower, I braced myself for the storm that awaited beyond the protective veil of water and steam.

Under the cascading water, the cleansing ritual seemed to mirror the intricate cleansing my mind desperately needed. As droplets danced upon my skin, I found myself submerged in contemplation, the tangled threads of emotions and commitments unraveling in the solitude of the shower.

The water, both comforting and relentless, became a metaphor for the storm that awaited beyond the protective veil of steam. Each droplet held a whispered reminder of the complexities that surrounded me, urging me to brace myself for the challenges that lay ahead.

Amidst the soothing sound of water, a conflicted resolve emerged. The internal struggle, like the swirling currents around me, mirrored the need to navigate the delicate balance between desires and responsibilities.

As the steam wrapped around me like a shroud, I couldn't escape the weight of the decision ahead. The thought lingered in the recesses of my mind, a silent acknowledgment that ignoring Lisa was imperative to maintain control.

She had become a captivating yet dangerous force, a temptation that threatened to unravel the carefully constructed layers of control I sought to maintain. The water's embrace offered a temporary sanctuary, but beyond the confines of the shower, a storm of emotions and desires loomed, demanding a choice that could shape the intricate tapestry of my existence.