The limousine didn't stop at the main villa. It glided past the huge, lit-up building like it was nothing, and moved deeper into the private grounds. Aria watched through the tinted glass, her mind racing. Tall, dark cypress trees lined the road, cutting her off from everything she knew.
Finally, they stopped in front of what looked like a modern glass box attached to the main house. It was all sharp angles and cold light. Valerio, no, he had said his name was Dominic now, got out without a word and held the door open for her. It wasn't a gentleman's gesture. It was an order.
Where are we? Aria asked, her voice small. And she didn't move.
We're Home for now, His tone left no room for questions. Get out, Aria. Or I will carry you. Your choice…. Saying with so much seriousness
The threat in his calm voice was real. She got out, her legs shaky. The air was cool and smelled of expensive flowers, but it felt dead. There was no city noise here. Only silence.
He led her inside, not touching her, but she felt guided by his presence alone. The place was… stunning and empty. A huge open space with floors so shiny they looked like black ice. The walls were white, decorated with weird, twisted metal sculptures that looked like they were in pain. One whole side of the room was glass, showing a dark, endless view of the grounds and the distant city lights. It was the most beautiful prison she could imagine.
A gilded cage.
Dominic walked to a sleek kitchen area, all steel and dark stone. He poured a glass of water and placed it on a counter. The click of the glass on the marble was loud in the quiet.
Sit. Drink. Your heart is running too fast.
I don't want your water. I want an explanation. You said your name was Valerio in the car. Now it's Dominic? Which one is it? Who are you really? She crossed her arms, trying to look brave, but she was hugging herself to stop the shaking.
He turned slowly. Those stormy grey eyes fixed on her, and she felt pinned to the spot. He was handsome in a way that was almost cruel all sharp lines and controlled power.
Valerio Marchetti is the name on my business cards. Dominic is the name my enemies whisper before they go to sleep, hoping I don't come for them.He took a step closer, not too close, but enough for her to feel the heat of him. You can call me Dominic. It means 'of the Lord'. I've always found that… fitting.
The way he said it made her blood run cold. He believed it.
You're insane, she breathed out.
No. I am the only sane person in this room right now. You are in grave danger, Aria. A threat from your father's past has just become a threat to your present.
Her father? That didn't make any sense. Her father was Professor Alistair Moreau. He wore cardigans with leather patches on the elbows. He drank tea and wrote boring papers about medieval trade routes. He was the most harmless man she knew.
You're lying,she said, a spark of real anger cutting through her fear. My father is an academic. A historian. He's a quiet man. He doesn't have a 'past' with people like you.
Dominic's mouth twitched, not quite a smile. It was something sadder and darker. Alistair Moreau was not always a professor. Before he met your mother, before you were born, he worked for an organization that moves in the shadows. He was a… facilitator. A man who could make delicate problems disappear from the historical record. For a price.
Aria shook her head, backing away until her back hit the cold glass wall. No. Stop it.
He left that life. He hid. He changed his name, buried his tracks. He thought he was safe. He thought you were safe. Dominic took another step, his gaze intense. But the past doesn't stay buried, little scholar. It claws its way out. And now, the people he crossed have found a new target. You.
Her mind was spinning. It was a story. A sick, twisted story he'd made up to justify kidnapping her. It had to be.
Let me go! she demanded, the shout echoing in the vast, empty space. Call the police right now, or so help me.
The police? He actually laughed then, a short, dry sound with no humor in it. The man who is looking for you, Aria, owns police commissioners. He owns judges. If you walk out that door and go to the authorities, you will be delivered to him by dinner time. Wrapped in a bow.
He said it so simply, so matter-of-fact, that the truth of it hit her like a physical blow. This wasn't a movie. This was real.
The world you knew is gone, he continued, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous rumble. The university, your apartment, your friends… It's all a stage set now, and it's about to be torn down. The only safety for you is here. With me.
The words with me hung in the air. They weren't gentle. They were a possession. A claim.
Her breath came in short, sharp pants. She looked from his unreadable face to the ornate, heavy-looking door across the room. It was her only way out. The glass was surely reinforced. The door was her only chance.
It was a stupid, desperate plan. She knew it even as she did it.
She pushed off the wall and ran. Not with strategy, but with pure, raw instinct. Her shoes slipped on the smooth floor, but she didn't fall. She pumped her arms, her focus laser-sharp on that door handle. Ten steps. Five.
She didn't see him move.
One second he was across the room. The next, he was just… there. Standing between her and the door, not even out of breath. He hadn't run. He had just appeared, like a shadow detaching itself from the wall. He didn't reach for her. He didn't try to grab her. He simply stood, blocking her path, his body a wall of immovable muscle and tailored suit.
Aria skidded to a halt, almost crashing into him. She stumbled back, her heart trying to hammer its way out of her chest.
He looked down at her, his stormy eyes dark. There was no anger in them. No frustration. There was something worse: a calm, absolute certainty. Like her attempt at escape was just a minor disturbance he'd already calculated and dismissed.
Your first lesson, he said, his voice so quiet she had to strain to hear it. The door is not locked.
Her brain stuttered. What?
He stepped to the side, gesturing elegantly toward the heavy door. Go ahead. Turn the handle. Walk out.
She stared at him, then at the door. It was a trick. It had to be.
It's a test, she whispered.
It's a reality, he corrected. If you leave, you will not make it to the main gate. The man hunting you, a rival of my family named Kreshnik, has eyes everywhere. He has been waiting for your father to slip up for twenty years. You are the slip. You are the key that unlocks Alistair's fear. And Kreshnik does not ask questions. He takes. He breaks. And when he is done, he disposes.
He moved closer again, invading her space. She could smell his scent sandalwood and something wild, like a cold night wind. The only reason you are still breathing, still whole, is because my car reached you five minutes before he did.
Aria felt the fight drain out of her, replaced by a heavy, chilling dread. His words painted a picture her logic couldn't deny. The feeling on the street, the seamless abduction… it had been too professional. What if he was telling the truth? What if running now was a death sentence?
Tears of frustration and terror burned her eyes. Why? Why do you even care? What am I to you?
For the first time, his perfect control seemed to crack, just for a second. Something raw and fierce flashed in his grey eyes. A hunger. A recognition.
Your father, he said slowly, choosing his words with care, did not just work for any organization. He worked for mine. He was under my family's protection. His debts are our debts. His daughter… He let the sentence hang, his gaze sweeping over her face, …is our responsibility.
It was too much. The pressure, the confusion, the sheer insanity of it all broke something inside her. A sob escaped her lips, and she covered her face with her hands, shoulders shaking. She was just a student. She had deadlines and a coffee addiction and a crush on the barista at her local café. She wasn't made for marble prisons and family debts and men with two names who moved like ghosts.
She expected him to walk away. To let her break down in peace.
He didn't.
She felt him step closer. Then, a large, warm hand settled on her shoulder. The touch was firm, not gentle, but it wasn't hurtful. It was an anchor in her spinning world.
Look at me, Aria.
She shook her head, tears wet on her palms.
Look. At. Me.
The command pulled her head up. Her vision was blurry, but she could see his face, clearer now than before. The dangerous glint was still there, but underneath it, she saw something else. A terrifying resolve. A promise.
I am not a good man, he stated, his thumb brushing once, almost absently, against the curve of her neck. A shiver that had nothing to do with fear raced down her spine. I do not pretend to be. But the man who wants you? He is a monster. And in this world, little scholar, you do not fight a monster with a saint. You fight him with a bigger monster.
He leaned down, his lips close to her ear. His breath was warm on her skin. I am that bigger monster. And for now, you belong to me. Your safety, your breath, your heartbeat… They are mine to protect. Do you understand?
She couldn't speak. She could only stare into those stormy grey eyes and feel the truth of his words settle around her, as heavy and final as a chain.
This was her life now.
He straightened up, his hand falling from her shoulder. The loss of contact felt strangely cold. The door is still unlocked, he said, walking back toward the kitchen. If you choose to leave, I will not stop you. But know that once you cross that threshold, my protection ends. And Kreshnik's begins.
He picked up the glass of water he'd poured for her, took a slow sip, and watched her over the rim. Waiting.
Aria looked at the door. Freedom. Then she looked at Dominic, standing in the middle of this beautiful, terrible cage. Peril. And protection.
Her legs felt like lead. She didn't move toward the door.
A faint, approving light flickered in his eyes. It wasn't a smile. It was something more primal. The look of a hunter who has just secured his prey.
Good, he said softly. Now, we eat. And then, you will tell me everything you think you know about your father's work. Because, Aria Moreau, your quiet academic father didn't just hide from his past…
He paused, setting the glass down with a fina
l click.
...he hid a secret that could start a war. And you, my dear, are standing right in the middle of the battlefield.