As soon as I stepped in I heard a gunshot. The gunshot cracked through the marble foyer like a whip.
I flinched so violently my teeth clattered. My knees buckled but Alessandro's arm caught me before I hit the floor.
"Easy," he murmured, voice low against my ear. "Breathe."
I couldn't.
My chest felt locked. My lungs burned. The echo of the shot tangled with the memory of blood on warehouse concrete.
Alessandro's silver eyes lifted to the woman in black silk standing at the top of the stairs. She hadn't moved. Arms crossed. Watching. Amused.
"Take her upstairs," he ordered.
"Now?" she asked smoothly.
His jaw tightened. "Now."
Her heels clicked against marble as she descended. "Come along, little mouse," she said lightly. "Let's not keep the king waiting."
Alessandro released me slowly, deliberately "like he was handing over something fragile... or expensive".
His fingers lingered at my wrist.
"Stay with her," he told me quietly. "Don't wander."
I nodded.
The woman led me up the staircase. The mansion swallowed us whole.
Dark wood panels. Black marble floors. Chandeliers dripping crystal like frozen stars. Everything was polished. Perfect. Cold.
No warmth. Just power.
Halfway down a long corridor she stopped and looked back at me.
"You..." Her eyes scanned me slowly. "You couldn't even handle the sound of a gunshot."
A mocking sigh escaped her lips.
"You're definitely too weak to be one of them."
"One of them?" I asked, my voice unsteady. "What do you mean?"
She turned fully, lips curling.
"Dummy. His personal toy."
The word hit harder than the gunshot.
I forced myself to meet her gaze.
"Toy?" My voice barely rose above a whisper. "Is that all he sees me as?"
She laughed "short and sharp".
"You don't think you could be his wife, do you?"
My throat tightened.
She stepped closer, perfume expensive and suffocating.
"Jessica is his favorite. She's in Milan right now. Business." A slow smile. "But she'll be back. So know your place, newbie. You're temporary. A distraction. A shiny little thing he'll get bored of."
Temporary.
The word cracked something inside me.
I blinked hard.
No tears. Not in front of her.
"Toy," I repeated quietly. "Funny. He called me wife."
For a fraction of a second, her expression flickered.
Then it was gone.
"Words are cheap in this house," she said coldly. "Actions aren't. And he has never kept a wife."
She turned and continued walking.
I followed.
The corridor stretched endlessly. Doors on both sides. Closed. Silent. Watching.
At the end, she pushed open a heavy door.
My room.
Massive. Black silk sheets. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking dark gardens. A four-poster bed that felt less like comfort... and more like a throne built for captivity.
She lingered in the doorway.
"Get comfortable," she said. "You'll be here a while."
A pause.
"Or until he gets bored."
The door shut behind her with a soft click.
And suddenly the silence roared.
I stood in the center of the room, arms wrapped around myself.
Jessica.
Favorite.
Temporary.
Toy.
The words echoed like poison.
My knees gave out and I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door.
Then "Footsteps.
Slow. Heavy. Intentional.
My pulse spiked.
The knob turned.
The door opened.
Moretto stood there.
Jacket gone. Sleeves rolled to reveal inked forearms. A faint streak of something dark marked the cuff of his shirt.
His silver eyes found mine immediately.
He stepped inside.
Closed the door.
Locked it.
The sound of the lock sliding into place felt louder than the gunshot.
He didn't speak at first.
Just studied me.
"Did she upset you?" he asked finally.
I swallowed. "Am I... temporary?"
His gaze sharpened.
"Who told you that?"
"Jessica."
The name tasted bitter.
A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth.
"Jessica," he repeated softly. "Has a habit of misunderstanding her position."
He stepped closer.
"And what do you think yours is?"
My breath hitched.
"I don't know," I admitted.
He reached up slowly and wiped a tear from beneath my eye with his thumb.
"You're not a toy," he said quietly.
Another step closer.
"You're not temporary."
His voice dropped lower.
"But you are in a cage."
My heart stuttered.
"And cages," he continued, silver eyes darkening, "are built to protect what's valuable."
Silence.
"And punish what tries to escape."
Mr Moretto... I said calmly
He smiled and said call me Alessandro
I said to my self Alessandro Moretto "The name settled in my mind like something dangerous and permanent"
Alessandro thumb lingered on my cheek a second too long.
Rough skin against softness. Warm against cold.
The touch sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear.
I stepped back instinctively.
He didn't follow.
He just watched me.
Those silver eyes studied every flicker of emotion on my face like I was something rare he was deciding whether to keep... or crush.
"Punish?" I echoed, voice thin. "Is that what this is? Punishment for seeing too much?"
He tilted his head slightly.
"If I wanted to punish you, little butterfly," he said calmly, "you would know."
The nickname again.
Soft.
Dangerous.
It twisted something in my stomach.
"Then what do you want?" I demanded, hating the desperation in my voice. "You could have killed me in the warehouse. You didn't. You could have let me go. You didn't. So what is this?"
He took one slow step forward.
The air tightened.
"This," he said quietly, "is necessity."
A bitter laugh escaped me.
"Necessity? You forced me into marriage because it was necessary?"
His jaw flexed.
For the first time, something flickered beneath the perfect mask something raw.
"Because the moment you screamed," he said evenly, "you became a liability. And I don't leave liabilities alive unless they're useful."
Useful.
That word hurt more than toy ever could.
"So that's it," I whispered. "I'm useful."
He moved closer until I had to look up at him.
"You're more than useful."
His voice lowered.
"You're a risk I chose to take."
The words settled between us.
Heavy.
Intentional.
"Jessica," he continued, the name sharp in his mouth, "is an arrangement. She understands the game. She plays by the rules."
His fingers lifted my chin again.
"You don't."
My pulse quickened.
"You don't know the rules. You don't calculate. You react. You feel." His thumb brushed the corner of my lip, slow and deliberate. "And that makes you unpredictable."
"Unpredictable isn't powerful," I whispered.
He smiled faintly.
"It is when you stand next to a man who controls everything."
My breath caught.
"You walked into my world and made me hesitate," he said softly. "You made me choose marriage over a bullet."
The words sent a chill through me.
I forced myself to hold his gaze.
"Dream on, Alessandro," I said quietly.
A flicker crossed his face.
"And what if I try to run?"
Silence.
Real silence.
The air shifted.
His expression didn't change but something in his eyes did. Something colder. More dangerous.
He stepped closer.
"If you try," he said calmly, "you won't get far."
My pulse hammered, but I didn't look away.
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a fact."
He leaned in just enough for his voice to drop lower.
"This house is guarded. The gates are monitored. The city knows my name."
A pause.
"And more importantly..." His thumb brushed the edge of my jaw. "You don't want to run."
I swallowed.
"You don't know what I want."
A faint smile curved his mouth.
"Yes," he murmured. "I do."
His answer came without hesitation.
He stepped back then, breaking the tension deliberately.
He Turned towards the door.
"Sleep," he ordered. "Tomorrow you meet the family properly."
Family.
The word didn't comfort me.
"They'll want to see what kind of wife I've brought into this house."
At the doorway, he paused.
"I don't share," he said without turning around. "Not my empire. Not my secrets."
Then, after a beat "And definitely not you."
The door shut.
The lock clicked from the outside.
The sound echoed through the massive room.
I stood there in silence.
And that's when it hit me.
The cage wasn't the mansion.
It wasn't the locked doors.
It wasn't even the guards downstairs.
It was him.
And the most terrifying part?
A small, reckless part of me didn't want the door unlocked.
The lock clicked from the outside.
The sound echoed through the massive room like a judge's gavel.
I stood frozen in the center of the black silk sea of a bed, arms wrapped around myself as if they could hold the pieces together.
Alessandro Moretto.
The name settled in my mind like something dangerous. Permanent.
I whispered it under my breath testing it.
"Alessandro Moretto."
It felt too big for my mouth. Too heavy. Too real.
I sank onto the edge of the mattress, the silk cool against my skin. The room smelled faintly of him sharp cologne, gun oil, something darker I couldn't name.
Temporary.
Toy.
Jessica.
The words circled like vultures.
I pressed my palms to my eyes.
But they stayed.
I didn't cry again.
Not because I was strong.
Because I was exhausted.
Instead, I studied the room properly.
No phone. No clock. No television. Just a massive wardrobe I was almost afraid to open, a bathroom gleaming like a museum exhibit, and windows revealing nothing but black gardens and distant floodlights.
A prison dressed in luxury.
I moved to the window.
The glass was thick.
Bulletproof, probably.
I pressed my forehead against it.
Cold.
The same cold that lived in his eyes.
And then quietly, almost against my will—I thought:
He didn't deny it.
He didn't say I wasn't temporary.
He didn't say Jessica meant nothing.
He said she was an arrangement.
He said I was a risk.
He said I was under his skin.
But he never said I was safe.
I returned to the bed and lay down fully clothed, shoes still on.
Pulled the blanket over my head like a child hiding from monsters.
But the monster wasn't outside.
He was in the house.
He was the house.
And he had the key.
Sleep came eventually.
Restless.
Shallow.
Filled with silver eyes, endless hallways, and a woman's mocking laugh.
In every dream, I was running.
But every corridor led back to him.
Standing at the end.
Waiting.
Smiling.
"Welcome home, little butterfly."
I woke with a sharp breath, heart racing.
The room was still dark.
But something had changed.
A faint strip of light glowed beneath the door.
Voices.
Low. Muffled.
I sat up slowly.
"...she's already causing trouble..."
The woman's voice. Sharp. Controlled.
Then Alessandro's "colder than before".
"Trouble is my business. She's mine. End of discussion."
A pause.
Then, softer
"Jessica lands tomorrow. She won't like this."
Silence.
Alessandro's reply came like silk over steel.
"Then Jessica will learn to like it."
Footsteps retreated.
The light disappeared.
I lay back against the pillows, pulse pounding.
Jessica lands tomorrow.
And suddenly the cage felt smaller.
The night felt longer.
And the man who locked me inside it...
felt closer than ever.