Chapter Two: By Morning
675 Words
The words echo in my head as the car pulls away from my father’s house, the gate swallowing us whole. I keep my face turned toward the window so no one sees the crack forming in my composure.
I won’t give Alessandro De Luca that satisfaction.
The city lights blur into streaks of gold and red. My reflection stares back at me in the glass—dark eyes, jaw tight, lips pressed into a line that says don’t you dare break.
“You’re very quiet, Aria.”
There it is.
My name.
Soft. Controlled. Claimed.
I didn’t look at him. “Enjoy it. Silence is rare when I’m around.”
A low breath of amusement brushes my ear. He’s closer than before. Too close.
“I don’t enjoy silence,” he says. “I enjoy awareness.”
The car slows.
Tall iron gates rise out of the darkness, parting like a mouth. They close behind us with a heavy clang that vibrates through my bones.
Finally.
The compound is lit but lifeless. No warmth. No welcome. Just stone, glass, and men who already know I don’t belong—and don’t care.
The door opens.
“Out.”
I step down onto cold marble, heels clicking too loud in the night. Alessandro doesn’t rush me. He lets the moment stretch, lets me feel how small I am in his world.
Inside, the air smells clean. Expensive. Controlled.
We walk.
Left turn. Right turn. Corridors that all look the same. I count them without knowing why—maybe because numbers still feel like something I can own.
Finally, we stop.
“This is yours,” he says, opening a door.
The room is stunning. Soft lighting. Wide bed. Windows that don’t open.
A cage dressed like a gift.
I turn to him slowly. “You expect gratitude?”
“No,” he replies. “I expect obedience.”
I laugh under my breath. “Then you should’ve bought someone else.”
His eyes darken—not angry. Focused.
“You misunderstood,” he says, stepping inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. “I didn’t bring you here to tame you.”
My pulse spikes. “Then why am I here?”
He moves closer. One step. Then another. No rush. No threat. Just certainty.
“Because defiant women,” he murmurs, stopping inches from me, “are the most honest when they realize resistance has a cost.”
My hands curl into fists. “You won’t touch me.”
A pause.
Then a smile—slow, deliberate, unsettling.
“I don’t need to,” he says. “Not yet.”
He reaches past me and presses something into my palm.
A phone.
I look down, confused.
“Unlocked,” he says. “One contact saved.”
I glance up. “My father?”
“Yes.”
My chest tightens. “What’s the catch?”
He leans in, his voice brushing my ear like a threat wrapped in velvet.
“You can call him,” Alessandro whispers. “Anytime you like. But every call adds one more week before he’s free.”
My stomach drops.
“That’s sick.”
He straightens. “That’s choice.”
I stare at the phone, my pulse roaring in my ears. “You’re forcing me to stay silent.”
“I’m teaching you restraint.”
I lift my chin. “I hate you.”
His gaze flicks to my mouth. Then back to my eyes.
“No,” he says calmly. “You hate feeling powerless. That’s different.”
He walks to the door, opens it, then pauses.
“Oh, Aria,” he adds without turning around. “Dinner is in fifteen minutes. I suggest you come hungry.”
The door closes.
Locked.
I stand there, phone heavy in my hand, heart racing.
By morning, he said.
I finally understand what he meant.
This isn’t about breaking my body.
It’s about breaking my will—one choice at a time.
And the terrifying part?
He’s patient enough to wait.
- Writer
