Debt Of Desire

Chapter3

Bella's pov

Sunlight sliced through the floor– to ceiling windows like a blade, too bright, too clean for the nightmare I had woken into. Silk sheets tangled around my legs– expensive, mocking. I bolted upright, heart slamming, scanning the room: king bed, marble nightstand, a walk-in closet already stocked with clothes my size, clothes he had chosen. My stomach lurched. I moved towards the door and tried to open it, but it wouldn't open. Of course the door was locked. I pounded on it till my fists ached. I loosened my hairpin and try to unlock the door but it was to no avail,

“This is real, I won't let it happen.” I say to myself but the memories of last night come flooding in.

I got up and continued pounding on the door shouting, “let me out! You can't keep me here forever.” I screamed while still pounding on the door but no one answered.

After a while of pounding and screaming I became tired and rested by the foot of the bed, the door opened with a soft click, then footsteps— heavy, deliberate.

Enzo stepped in, casual in black slacks and a half unbuttoned white shirt, Scar stark against his skin in the morning light. He looked like he had slept perfectly while I unraveled.

“Good morning Isabella,” his voice was velvet over gravel. “Hungry?”

I stared at him, rage boiling over shock."You basically kidn*pped me and now you're offering me breakfast?”

He tilted his head, a faint curve on his lips not quite a smile. “Collateral, Cara. Not k********g,” he gestured towards the hallway, “come we eat together, that's rule number one.”

I didn't move. “Am not hungry, and am definitely not following your rules.”

He stepped closer— slow, deliberate. The air shifted. “ You will be. and you will.” No threat in his tone, just certainty. “Defy me here, and we start the day with corrections. Cooperate, perhaps we delay it.”

My pulse jumped at the word “correction” — hate and something darker twisting in my gut. I hated how my body noticed him, how the way his shirt hung open, and the scar that drew my eyes despite myself.

He waited. Patient. Predatory.

I crossed my arms, chin up. “Fine, lead the way, but don't think that this means anything.” I say.

His gaze flicked over me— lingering on my bare legs, then back to my face “Noted.” He said.

The dining area was obscene, a long glass table overlooking the glittering Manhattan skyline, breakfast was already laid out—- fresh fruits, pastries, coffee steaming in porcelain cups. Guards stood discreetly at the edges of the room, eyes forward.

Enzo pulled out a chair for me, I ignored it and sat across from him instead.

He didn't comment, just poured coffee for both of us, then sat with the ease of a man who owned the city.

“Eat.” He simply said.

I pushed the plate away. “Not until you tell me how long this lasts.”

“Until the debt is repaid." He took a slow sip watching me over the rim. “Which could be weeks. Months. Or longer. If you keep testing boundaries.”

I laughed— a bitter, sharp sound. “Boundaries, you mean like not wanting to be sold like a property?”

His eyes darkened. “Your parents made the choice. I just collected. Now you will adapt.”

I leaned forward. “I won't adapt, I will fight every second at any chance I get.”

He set his cup down with deliberate calmness. “Then we'll have rules to make that fight productive.”

He listed them like he was writing a contract. “ Rule one: we must have meals together no skipping. Rule two: no leaving the penthouse without permission. Rule three: address me as sir when I require it. Rule four: no weapons or hidden devices. Guards will search everywhere. Rule five: disobedience earns correction, you might not like it but you will learn from it.”

My hands fisted under the table, “ Am not calling you ‘sir’ ever.”

He leaned in, voice dropping low, “Repeat after me: I will follow the rules.”

The command landed like a physical touch. My throat tightened; I hated how my body wanted to obey, just for a second. “Go to hell.” I said.

He leaned back and smiled— slow, without warmth. “ We will practice later, for now eat, you will need your strength.”

I huffed and went back to my food picking at it. I knocked the coffee cup over ‘accidentally’ — dark liquid spilling across the glass. “Oops.” I said.

He didn't flinch. Just looked at the mess, then at me. “Clean it.”

I crossed my arms. “No.”

He stood, rounded the table and pinned my wrists to the tabletop— gentle pressure but unbreakable. His body heat washed over me, his scar was inches from my face.

“Now.” he murmured against my ear.

Trembling with fury and something I refused to name— I grabbed the napkin and wiped it up. He released me slowly, thumb grazing my pulse point as he pulled away.

“Good girl.” He said quietly.

The words hit like a spark. I hated him more for it. He went back to his seat and dinner continued.

Later in my room I paced up and down thinking of a way to make my escape, I needed to leave, I can't be locked up as a prisoner. My parents could pay their own debts without involving me. But first I need to get past the guards stationed everywhere.

Enzo's Pov

From the security feed later I watched her pace the bedroom like a caged thing. She thought she could resist. She thought small rebellions would wear me down.

She doesn't know how much I enjoyed the game. How much I craved the chase.

The scar itched, a reminder of why control mattered. But watching her fire… it stirred something dangerous.

She would run soon, and when she did I will bring her back and teach her exactly what surrender felt like.

She will be begging me at the end.

I smiled to myself.