The rain that afternoon came down in a steady, rhythmic drum against the tall windows of the east wing, a sound that might have been comforting if Aria's nerves weren't already strung as tight as a bowstring. She had been in the Don's mansion for almost a week now, and the place still felt like an ornate cage—one gilded with Italian marble floors, hand-carved furniture, and silk drapes, but a cage all the same.
Every day had been the same: an assigned breakfast at a fixed hour, guarded strolls in the garden where security men watched her every move, and the lingering shadow of Don Luca everywhere she went. Even when she didn't see him, she could feel his presence—calculated, commanding, quietly threatening.
Today, she'd decided she'd had enough of the quiet compliance he seemed to expect.
She was in the library—a cavernous room lined with shelves that stretched to the ceiling—when she heard the slow, deliberate sound of footsteps behind her. The air shifted, the way it always did when Luca entered a room.
"You've been ignoring me," he said, his voice smooth but with an edge that suggested he wasn't in the mood for games.
She didn't turn around right away. "I didn't realize silence was a crime here," she replied, tracing her finger along the spine of an old leather-bound book.
"It's not a crime," he said, stepping closer, "but in my house, it's a statement."
Aria finally turned, her chin lifted. "Good. Then let it be one."
For a moment, they simply stared at each other—two forces, equally stubborn, refusing to yield. His dark eyes were sharp, calculating, but there was something else there too… a flicker of interest, maybe even amusement.
"You think you can test me, Aria," he said softly, walking toward her with the slow precision of a predator. "But I assure you, you won't win."
"And what exactly am I supposed to win?" she shot back. "You've already decided my life for me. You've taken my freedom, my choices, even my—" She broke off, her throat tightening. "You think because you saved me from your enemies, you own me."
He stopped just a few feet away. The tension between them was thick, an invisible rope pulling them toward each other even as pride kept them apart. "I don't own you," he said, his voice lower now, almost dangerous. "But I will protect you. And in my world, protection comes with rules."
Her laugh was short, sharp, humorless. "Rules. Like a prison."
He took another step, close enough now that she could smell the faint scent of his cologne—spice and cedarwood. "A prison," he said quietly, "keeps people out as much as it keeps someone in. You'd do well to remember that."
Aria's pulse was hammering in her ears. She hated that his nearness made her aware of him in ways she didn't want to be—how tall he was, how his gaze seemed to pin her in place, how even the smallest movement of his mouth drew her eyes.
But she refused to let him see that.
"You don't scare me," she said.
One corner of his mouth curved, though it wasn't quite a smile. "You should."
The words hung between them, heavy and electric. Her heartbeat quickened, but not entirely from fear—and that realization unsettled her more than anything.
"You think you can just… control me," she said, her voice trembling now, though with anger rather than weakness. "Like I'm one of your… business deals. I'm not for sale, Luca."
He tilted his head slightly, studying her as though weighing the truth of her words. Then, slowly, he reached up and brushed his fingers just barely along her jaw, a fleeting touch that made her breath hitch despite herself.
"Not for sale," he murmured. "But bought all the same."
The heat in her cheeks flared, her pride and her body locked in a silent war. She stepped back, breaking the moment, desperate to put space between them. "Stay away from me."
But he didn't move. "We're married now," he reminded her, his tone maddeningly calm. "There is no 'away.'"
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "Then maybe I'll find a way out."
That drew a real smile from him this time—cold, knowing, almost daring. "Try, Aria. I'd like to see how far you get."
With that, he turned and walked out, leaving her standing in the quiet library, her chest rising and falling with the force of emotions she couldn't name.
It was only after he was gone that she realized her hands were trembling—not just with anger, but with something far more dangerous.
Something that felt a lot like desire.
And that terrified her most of all.