I'M HIS ALONE

CHAPTER 4

THE ESTATE

Sofia Romano was a surprise.

Bella had expected another hardened criminal, another predator in expensive clothing. Instead, the woman who appeared at the top of the grand staircase was around her own age, with warm brown eyes and a friendly smile that seemed completely at odds with the fortress-like mansion around them.

"You must be Bella," Sofia said, descending the stairs with effortless grace. She was dressed casually-jeans and a cashmere sweater-but everything about her radiated wealth and breeding. "I'm Sofia, Dante's sister. He asked me to help you get settled."

Bella stared at her. "Your brother just kidnapped me, and you want to help me get settled?"

Sofia's smile faltered slightly, and something like sympathy flickered in her eyes. "I know this seems... extreme. Dante can be... intense. But he wouldn't hurt you, Bella. I promise you that."

"He already has. He's taken me from my home, from my life-"

"And he'll give you a new one," Sofia interrupted gently. "A better one, if you let him." She sighed, running a hand through her long dark hair. "Look, I know you're angry and scared. You have every right to be. But the reality is, you're here now, and you're not leaving anytime soon. The best thing you can do is make the most of it. Come on-let me show you around."

Bella wanted to refuse, wanted to stand her ground and demand her freedom. But she was exhausted, overwhelmed, and deeply aware that she was in a house full of armed criminals who answered to the man who had decided to claim her like a possession. Survival, she told herself. She needed to survive, to learn, to plan. And to do that, she needed to understand her enemy.

"Fine," she said, her voice tight. "Show me."

The tour of the Romano estate took nearly an hour, and by the end of it, Bella's head was spinning. The mansion was enormous-a main house with twelve bedrooms, a formal dining room that seated thirty, a library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, an indoor pool, a gym, a wine cellar, and what Sofia referred to as "the business wing," which was off-limits to Bella and heavily guarded.

"Dante's office is there," Sofia explained as they passed a set of double doors flanked by two men in dark suits. "And the conference room where he meets with his... associates."

"His criminal associates," Bella corrected.

Sofia gave her a look. "Dante is a complex man, Bella. He's done things-terrible things, I'm sure-that I don't know about and don't want to know about. But he's also the man who raised me after our parents were killed. He was twenty years old, and he took responsibility for a fifteen-year-old girl and a crime family on the brink of collapse. He built all of this"-she gestured around them-"from nothing. He protected me, educated me, gave me everything I ever needed. He's not a monster. He's just... a man who lives by different rules."

Bella absorbed this in silence. It complicated her image of Dante, added layers she didn't want to acknowledge. She didn't want to see him as human, as someone who had suffered and sacrificed. It was easier to hate him if he was pure evil.

"What happened to your parents?" she asked.

Sofia's expression shadowed. "They were murdered. By a rival family, when I was fifteen. Dante found them. He was the one who..." She paused, swallowing hard. "He was twenty, like I said. Too young for the responsibility that fell on him. But he never complained. He just did what needed to be done."

They walked in silence for a moment, the weight of the Romano family's tragic history settling between them.

"This is your room," Sofia said finally, opening a door at the end of a long hallway.

Bella stepped inside and caught her breath.

The room was beautiful-larger than her entire apartment, decorated in shades of cream and gold with touches of deep emerald that somehow matched her eyes. A king-sized bed dominated the space, draped in silk sheets and piled with pillows. There was a sitting area with a plush sofa and a fireplace, a dressing area with a vanity mirror, and French doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking the gardens.

But what caught Bella's attention was the door on the far wall-a door that connected to another room.

"That's Dante's suite," Sofia said, following Bella's gaze. "He wanted you close."

Bella's stomach dropped. "He expects me to-"

"He expects nothing, Bella." Sofia's voice was firm. "Dante is many things, but he's not a r****t. He won't force you. He wants you to come to him willingly." She paused, a small smile playing at her lips. "Though I suspect he'll do everything in his considerable power to make that willingness happen sooner rather than later."

"It won't happen at all," Bella said, her jaw set. "I don't care how nice this room is, how charming he pretends to be. He kidnapped me. He destroyed my life. I will never want him."

Sofia looked at her for a long moment, something knowing in her eyes. "You say that now. But I've seen the way he looks at you, Bella. Dante Romano has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you. And Dante always gets what he wants. Always."

She turned to leave, then stopped at the door. "Dinner is at eight. Formal attire is in the closet. I'll send someone to help you if you need it." She smiled, softer this time. "Try to rest, Bella. You're going to need your strength."

Then she was gone, and Bella was alone in the gilded cage that Dante Romano had built for her.

She explored the room methodically, cataloging exits and potential weapons. The French doors had locks, but she doubted they'd hold against someone determined to enter. The connecting door to Dante's suite was locked on his side-she tried the handle just to be sure. The closet was stocked with designer clothes in her exact size, everything from casual wear to evening gowns, lingerie to outerwear. It was unsettling how thoroughly Dante had prepared for her arrival.

In the bathroom, she found a Jacuzzi tub, a walk-in shower, and a vanity stocked with expensive skincare and makeup-all brands she used, all shades that matched her coloring. He had researched her. Extensively. The thought should have terrified her, but instead, she felt a strange flutter in her chest. He had gone to such trouble. He had wanted her that badly.

She pushed the thought away, disgusted with herself. Stockholm syndrome, she told herself. That's what this was. She was identifying with her captor, finding patterns of care in his obsession. She needed to stay sharp, stay angry, stay focused on escape.

But as she sank into the tub filled with lavender-scented water, her exhausted body surrendering to the warmth, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering to Dante Romano. To the way he had looked at her in her father's apartment, like she was the answer to a question he had been asking his entire life. To the gentleness of his touch despite the violence of his actions. To the darkness in his eyes that called to something equally dark in her own soul.

I'm not yours, she had told him.

We'll see about that, he had replied.

Bella closed her eyes and tried not to wonder which of them was right.

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