SIENNA POV
The gate opened automatically. Black iron bars sliding apart to reveal a long driveway lined with trees.
I pressed my face against the car window, trying to see what waited at the end.
A house. No, not a house. An estate. Three stories of white stone and glass windows stretching across what looked like acres of manicured lawn. Ocean beyond it, dark blue and endless.
"This is where you're keeping me?" I asked.
"This is where you're staying," Matteo corrected. He pulled the car around a circular driveway and stopped in front of massive double doors.
Rocco got out first. He scanned the area like he expected someone to jump out from the bushes. Then he nodded at Matteo.
"Clear."
Matteo opened my door. "Welcome home."
Home. The word felt wrong. This wasn't home. This was a prison with ocean views.
I got out and looked up at the building. Security cameras on every corner. High walls surrounding the property. Guards I could see stationed near the entrance.
"How many people work here?" I asked.
"Enough." Matteo walked toward the doors. "Come on. I'll show you around."
Inside, everything was expensive. Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. Furniture that looked like it belonged in a museum.
Matteo walked through rooms like he'd memorized every step. Living room. Dining room. Kitchen with appliances I didn't recognize. Library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
"You can access all of these," he said. "Main house, library, gym, grounds within the perimeter wall."
"Can I leave?"
"No. Not without my permission and security escort."
My stomach tightened. "So I'm a prisoner."
He stopped walking and turned to face me. "You're protected. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
His jaw tightened. "Yes. Prisoners don't get a choice. You chose this."
He was right. I'd walked into his office. I'd signed the contract. I'd agreed to everything.
But knowing I'd chosen it didn't make the cage feel less real.
A woman appeared in the hallway. Fifties, gray hair pulled back, kind eyes.
"This is Gina," Matteo said. "She manages the house. Anything you need, ask her."
Gina smiled at me. "Welcome, Miss Moretti. Let me show you to your room."
I followed her up a curved staircase to the second floor. Down a hallway with paintings I couldn't identify. She opened a door at the end.
"This is yours."
The room was huge. King-sized bed with white linens. Windows overlooking the ocean. A desk with a laptop already set up. French doors leading to a balcony.
"The bathroom is through there," Gina said, pointing to another door. "Everything you need should be stocked. If something's missing, just let me know."
I walked to the closet. It was full of clothes. Dresses, pants, shirts, shoes. All in my size.
"How did you know my size?" I asked.
Gina smiled gently. "Mr. Carbone is very thorough."
Thorough. Or invasive. I couldn't decide which.
"Breakfast is at seven," Gina continued. "Lunch at noon. Dinner at six. Mr. Carbone usually eats dinner with you when he's here. The gym is on the first floor if you want to use it. Five to eight AM is best. Library is always open."
She made it sound like a resort. Like I was a guest instead of property.
"Your phone won't work here," Gina added. "Not outside calls anyway. If you need to contact anyone, you'll need to go through Mr. Carbone first."
My throat tightened. "So I can't call anyone."
"Not without permission. It's for your safety."
Safety. Protection. The words they kept using to make this sound reasonable.
"I'll leave you to settle in," Gina said. She left, closing the door softly behind her.
I stood in the middle of the room and tried to breathe.
This was my life now. This beautiful, isolated, controlled existence where every choice was made for me.
I walked to the window. The ocean stretched forever. No boats. No people. Just water and sky and emptiness.
I'd traded my freedom for survival. I'd thought I understood what that meant.
But standing in this gorgeous prison, I realized I'd had no idea.
Hours passed. I unpacked my small suitcase. Explored the bathroom, which had products I'd never heard of and a bathtub big enough for three people. Sat at the desk and opened the laptop.
Password protected. Of course.
At six o'clock exactly, Gina knocked on my door.
"Dinner, Miss Moretti."
I followed her downstairs to a dining room with a table that could seat twenty people. Only two places were set. At one end.
Matteo sat at the head of the table, reading something on his phone. He looked up when I entered.
"Sit."
I sat in the chair to his right. A plate appeared in front of me. Chicken, vegetables, rice. It smelled amazing and I realized I hadn't eaten since breakfast.
I picked up my fork. Waited to see if he would eat first.
He put his phone down and looked at me. "You don't need my permission to eat."
"I don't know the rules yet."
Something flickered in his expression. Almost like regret. "The rules are simple. Be honest with me. Do what I ask. Don't try to leave. Everything else is negotiable."
I took a bite. The food was incredible but I barely tasted it.
"How was your day?" he asked.
The question was so normal it threw me. Like we were a regular couple having dinner instead of captor and captive.
"Confusing," I said honestly.
He nodded. "That's fair."
He pulled a stack of folders from a bag beside his chair and placed them in front of me.
"I need you to look at these. Financial reports from several operations. Restaurant holdings, import businesses, real estate. Find the inefficiencies. Find where money is being lost or mismanaged."
I opened the first folder. Pages of transactions, profit margins, expense reports.
This I understood. Numbers made sense. They followed rules.
"How soon do you need this?"
"Tomorrow evening. Take your time. Be thorough."
I flipped through more pages. Complex operations. Multiple revenue streams. But I could already see problems. Duplicate expenses. Inefficient supply chains. Money disappearing into holes that shouldn't exist.
"I can do this," I said.
"I know." He watched me with those dark, intense eyes. "That's why you're here."
We ate in silence for a few minutes. Then I asked the question that had been burning in my mind all day.
"Why Richard Zhao? Why do you need to destroy him?"
"You don't need to know that."
"I'm working for you. I'm helping you. Don't I deserve to understand why?"
He set down his fork. "No. You deserve to stay alive. Understanding comes later. If at all."
The answer frustrated me but I understood it. He didn't trust me yet. Why would he?
After dinner, he stood. "I need to go back to the city. Family business. I'll be back tomorrow morning."
"You're leaving?"
"Yes. Gina and the security team will be here. You're safe."
He started to walk away. Then he stopped and turned back.
"The laptop password is your birthday. Month, day, year. No spaces."
"How do you know my birthday?"
He smiled slightly. "I know everything about you, Sienna."
Then he was gone.
I heard the car start outside. Heard it drive away down the long driveway. Heard the silence that followed.
Gina appeared to clear the dishes. "Can I get you anything else?"
"No. Thank you."
I went back to my room and opened the laptop. Typed in my birthday. It unlocked.
The desktop had folders labeled with operation names. Restaurant Group. Import Division. Real Estate Holdings. Each one contained spreadsheets and reports.
I opened the first one and started analyzing.
Hours passed. The numbers told stories. Where money came from. Where it went. Where it leaked or disappeared.
I found three major inefficiencies in the first report alone. Problems that were costing them thousands every month.
I documented everything carefully. Built a presentation showing the problems and proposed solutions.
At midnight, I realized I'd been working for six hours straight.
I also realized something else.
I was worried about Matteo.
He'd gone to a family meeting. His sister had sounded urgent on the phone. Scared, even. She'd said people were asking questions about him protecting me.
What if they decided I was too much of a risk? What if they ordered him to get rid of me?
Would he do it? Would he follow family orders even after promising to keep me safe?
I barely knew him. I had no reason to trust him. He'd taken my freedom, isolated me, controlled every aspect of my existence.
But something about the way he'd looked at me during dinner made me think he might actually keep his promise.
Or maybe I was just desperate to believe someone would protect me.
I closed the laptop and lay down on the bed. Stared at the ceiling.
Worrying about him was dangerous. Caring what happened to him was stupid.
Caring about people gave them power over you. My father taught me that when he abandoned me to deal with his debts alone.
But as I lay there in the dark, listening to ocean waves through the open window, I couldn't stop wondering if Matteo was okay.
Couldn't stop hoping he'd come back tomorrow morning like he promised.
Couldn't stop the terrifying realization that in less than twenty-four hours, I'd started depending on a man who owned me.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. The one that only worked within Matteo's network.
A text message appeared.
Don't wait up. Meeting is taking longer than expected. Get some sleep.
I stared at the message. He was checking on me. Making sure I knew he was okay.
Why would he do that unless he cared about keeping me calm?
Unless he was already starting to see me as more than just an asset.
I typed back: Be careful.
Three dots appeared. He was typing.
Then they disappeared.
No response came.
I set the phone down and tried to sleep.
But all I could think about was what happened at family meetings when someone questioned your loyalty.
All I could think about was whether Matteo would walk back through that door tomorrow.
Or whether I'd just become very, very alone in this beautiful cage.