First Day, First Trouble
1648 Words
Isabella’s POV
The car pulled up to the curb with a sleek purr of its engine. I watched it through the rain-soaked window of the underpass, a chill creeping up my spine. It was a black, luxury sedan—expensive and out of place in a grimy part of the city like this. I knew instantly who it belonged to.
Alessio De Luca.
I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as I glanced over to my father. He was hunched on the cold concrete, his thin coat wrapped tightly around him. His face was pale, dark circles under his eyes. When he caught me looking, he managed a weak smile.
“Bella,” he rasped, his voice barely audible over the rain. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Stop,” I snapped, my voice harsher than I intended. I needed it to be. “Don’t make it harder than it already is..”
He looked down, his face crumpling with guilt. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. My gambling... I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”
I clenched my jaw, swallowing the lump in my throat. I couldn’t cry. Not now. Not when I was about to face him. “It doesn’t matter now,” I said quietly, slipping the card Alessio had given me into my pocket. “I have to fix this.”
Beside, I don’t have anything to live for anymore. But no one would know, no one should know.
“Alessio De Luca is a mafia don,” my father croaked. “One of the deadliest out there, Bella. He kills with little to no remorse...”
He trailed off, the warning in his eyes clear. He was right. I knew exactly who Alessio was—and what kind of deal I was making. I had done the research, that man has power, too much for a normal human being. He didn’t care who he hurt. The mention of the De Luca family name anywhere, brings nothing but fear.
But it was too late. We had nothing left.
I had nothing left.
I was sick. Dying, even. But I hadn’t told him that. He had enough to worry about. This was the only way to secure his treatment, his life. My life? It no longer mattered.
The door of the car opened, snapping me back to the present. A tall man with a stern face stepped out, holding an umbrella over his head. “Miss Isabella?” he called out, his voice deep and formal.
I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. Then, taking a deep breath, I straightened my back and walked forward. “Yes,” I answered, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m coming.”
He didn’t say another word, only opened the back door for me. I turned to look at my father one last time. His eyes were filled with regret, fear, and helplessness. “I’ll come back for you, try to sort yourself out while I find a way out,” I whispered, more to convince myself than him.
Then, I slid into the car, and the door shut behind me, sealing my fate.
The interior was sleek, plush leather seats, and the air smelled faintly of cologne and leather. I kept my gaze fixed forward, staring at my hands in my lap. My heart was hammering in my chest, a mixture of fear, anger, and something I couldn’t quite identify.
The car moved smoothly through the city streets. Minutes felt like hours, and I could feel my pulse quickening the closer we got to wherever Alessio had decided to keep me. His personal slut. The words he’d used still haunted me, made my blood boil and my skin crawl.
When we finally arrived, the car stopped in front of a gated mansion. My mouth went dry. It was massive—ornate iron gates, manicured gardens, and a sprawling house that screamed of wealth and power. I was ushered out of the car and into the mansion, barely registering my surroundings as my nerves took over.
And then I saw him.
Alessio stood in the grand foyer, casually leaning against the banister of a marble staircase. His dark suit fit him perfectly, emphasizing the hard lines of his body. His gaze locked onto me the moment I entered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Welcome, Isabella,” he drawled, his voice smooth as silk. “I trust the ride was comfortable?”
I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to look away from his piercing stare. “Comfortable enough,” I muttered, trying to keep my tone icy.
He stepped forward, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’ll find that I’m a man who values comfort... among other things.” His gaze flickered over me, slowly, deliberately, making my skin prickle. I could feel my anger bubbling up, but before I could say anything, another man approached.
“Nicolo, meet Isabella,” Alessio said, his tone slightly mocking as if introducing me like some prized possession.
Nicolo smiled, his eyes warm and kind in a way that took me off guard. “Nice to meet you, Isabella,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Nicolo. If you need anything, feel free to let me know.”
I hesitated, then shook his hand. His grip was firm but gentle. “Thanks,” I replied quietly.
But the moment was shattered when Alessio’s hand wrapped around my arm, pulling me closer to him. His touch was firm, possessive, and it made my heart skip a beat. I glared up at him, trying to pull free, but his grip only tightened.
“You’ll be staying in a room that’s... been specially prepared for you,” Alessio murmured, his voice dangerously low. “I have a few rules you’ll need to learn, but we can discuss those... later, you need a shower and need to get dressed for our dinner tonight.”
There was something in his tone, something that made my body heat up. I hated it. Hated the way my pulse quickened at his proximity, the way his touch sent sparks through my skin.
“Let go of me,” I snapped, hoping my voice sounded more confident than I felt.
He chuckled softly, “Feisty. I like that,” he said, releasing me but not stepping back. Instead, his hand trailed down my arm, his fingers brushing against my waist in a way that made me shiver.
My face burned with humiliation. How could I be reacting to him like this? To him, of all people? A monster, a man who was about to make me his personal toy. I should be disgusted, repulsed. And yet...
“Don’t look so shocked, Isabella,” Alessio murmured, leaning closer until his lips were just inches from my ear. “Your body reacts to me. And soon, it will obey me.”
Heat flooded through me, pooling low in my stomach. I felt my breath hitch.
No. No, this wasn’t right. I refused to let him see how he was affecting me, how his words and touch made my insides twist in the worst possible way.
Nicolo cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Boss, perhaps we should show Isabella to her room. Let her... settle in.”
Alessio pulled back, a smirk on his lips as he regarded me. “Of course,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “After all, we wouldn’t want our guest to feel... unwelcome.”
He turned leading me deeper into the mansion, i gulped, my palms feeling clammy, stomach feeling as if a thousand butterflies were fluttering around.
This man—this monster—was going to break me.
***
The room they led me into was luxurious, yet cold. Dark wood paneling lined the walls, and the furniture was minimal—just a large bed, a dresser, and a small table with two chairs. I stood in the doorway, taking it all in, trying to keep my expression blank despite the churning in my stomach.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Alessio said as he walked past me, his voice dripping with false politeness. He moved to the table, where a stack of papers lay, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
I stayed where I was, watching him, my heart pounding in my chest. “What’s that?” I asked, eyeing the papers warily.
He glanced up at me, his gaze piercing. “Your contract,” he replied smoothly. “It outlines the... terms of our arrangement.”
Nicolo, who had followed us into the room, offered me a kind, almost apologetic smile. “You might want to read through it carefully,” he suggested. “It’s important you understand what you’re agreeing to.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to steady my breathing. “Why bother? We both know I don’t have a choice,” I muttered.
Alessio’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he slid the papers toward me. “Smart girl,” he murmured. “But humor me. Read it.”
Reluctantly, I moved forward and took the chair opposite him. Nicolo handed me a pen, and I stared down at the pages, my vision blurring slightly. The words swam in front of me as I tried to focus.
Personal servant... s****l availability... non-disclosure... terms of release...
The language was clinical, cold. There was no way to sugarcoat what this was—a contract for my body, my life. The only silver lining was a clause at the bottom. After six months, I could walk away with enough money to cover my father’s medical bills and secure a new life for us. Six months. Just half a year, and I’d be free.
Six months and he would be bored of me.
Six months, I would be dead.
- Writer
