Scarlett POV
Gosh, this guy is unbelievable. I'm not signing this damn thing.
How am I supposed to even sign it with my hands tied?
I leaned back against the headrest, trying to calm my racing thoughts. But my mind was anything but at peace.
Images of his angry face kept flashing in my mind—cold, ruthless, and unforgiving.
What if he comes back and decides to punish me physically? He's already made it clear that he has no problem about torturing a woman. He's said it himself—he doesn't care.
I shuddered at the thought.
What do I do? My hands are tightly bound, my legs too. I can barely move.
I glanced down at the document in front of me and sighed. I had to at least make an effort—maybe just a drop of ink on the paper would be enough.
Trying to bend my head toward my thighs was harder than I expected. The chains around my waist were restricting me, making every movement feel like I was dragging an anchor behind me. The more I tried to adjust, the more the pain intensified.
