5. The King’s Rules
1212 Words
The car smelled like leather and silence.
She noticed it the moment the door closed behind her—how the city noise vanished, how the world narrowed to the steady hum of the engine and the faint glow of passing streetlights sliding across tinted windows. The seat was soft beneath her, too luxurious for comfort. Everything about the vehicle whispered money, power, and decisions that didn’t require consent.
Luca sat across from her, relaxed, one arm resting casually against the door. His jacket was back on now, perfectly fitted, the dark fabric sharp against the pale interior. He looked like he belonged anywhere—especially here.
She folded her hands in her lap to hide the tremor in them.
“This is unnecessary,” she said, breaking the silence. “I could have taken a cab.”
“You could have,” he agreed. “You didn’t.”
Her jaw tightened. “Because your men made it very clear I didn’t have a choice.”
His gaze flicked to her hands, then back to her face. “You always have a choice.”
“That’s not true,” she said. “Not with you.”
A pause.
“I won’t insult you by pretending otherwise,” Luca said evenly. “But I won’t apologize either.”
The car took a smooth turn, lights briefly illuminating the hard angles of his face. His expression was calm, unreadable—like a man who had long ago learned not to reveal what he felt.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“My house.”
Her breath hitched. “Absolutely not.”
The corner of his mouth curved faintly. “You’re already halfway there.”
She shifted in her seat, the silk of her dress whispering with the movement. “You expect me to just… go with you?”
“I expect you to listen,” he replied. “Then decide.”
She laughed softly, humorless. “You keep saying that like the outcome isn’t already set.”
His eyes darkened, just a shade. “The outcome depends on whether you understand the rules.”
“And what are they?” she challenged.
The car slowed, pulling through tall iron gates that opened without pause. Beyond them, a private drive stretched ahead, flanked by towering trees and subtle security lights. The city disappeared behind them, replaced by quiet and something heavier—final.
Luca watched her reaction closely as the house came into view.
It wasn’t a palace. It was worse.
Stone and glass, modern lines softened by old-world solidity. The kind of place built to withstand sieges, not impress guests. Lights glowed warmly behind tall windows, but guards were stationed discreetly at every corner, blending into the shadows.
Her pulse quickened.
“This is insane,” she murmured.
The car stopped.
Luca opened his door, then paused, meeting her gaze through the open space between them. “This is reality.”
A guard opened her door before she could argue further. Cool night air rushed in, carrying the scent of pine and stone. She stepped out slowly, heels sinking slightly into gravel, aware of every eye on her.
Inside, the house was quiet.
Not empty—quiet.
Polished marble floors reflected soft lighting. Dark wood accents lined the walls. Art pieces were placed with deliberate restraint, each one chosen, not displayed. The air felt controlled, intentional, like nothing existed here without permission.
“This isn’t protection,” she said as they walked. “It’s a fortress.”
“It’s both,” Luca replied.
They entered a sitting room—intimate, with low lighting and a fireplace burning softly. He removed his jacket again, placing it over the back of a chair with precise care.
“Sit,” he said.
She remained standing. “No.”
He studied her for a long moment, then nodded once. “Very well.”
He poured himself a drink from a decanter on the sideboard—whiskey, amber and slow-moving. He didn’t offer her one.
That irritated her more than it should have.
“You brought me here to give me rules,” she said. “Start talking.”
He took a measured sip before answering. “Rule one: When you’re with me, you’re safe. No one touches you. No one approaches you. No one even looks at you without my permission.”
“I didn’t ask for that,” she said sharply.
“You don’t need to,” he replied. “It’s done.”
She crossed her arms, the movement defensive. “And rule two?”
“You don’t lie to me.”
Her brows lifted. “That’s rich.”
“I don’t lie to you either,” he said. “Not about things that matter.”
She hesitated, then nodded slightly. “Fine.”
“Rule three,” he continued, setting the glass down. “You don’t leave without telling me where you’re going.”
Her eyes flashed. “I’m not a prisoner.”
“No,” he agreed. “You’re a responsibility.”
She stared at him. “That’s worse.”
A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Most people don’t earn that distinction.”
Silence settled between them, thick and charged. The fire crackled softly, shadows dancing across his face, accentuating the intensity in his eyes.
“And what do I get?” she asked finally.
He tilted his head. “Aside from protection?”
“Yes.”
“Truth,” he said. “When you ask for it. Respect. And choice—within reason.”
She scoffed. “Within your reason.”
“Of course,” he said calmly.
She paced a few steps, heels clicking softly against the marble. “You expect me to trust you.”
“I expect you to survive,” he corrected.
She stopped in front of him. Up close, the tension between them felt tangible, like a wire pulled too tight.
“And what happens,” she asked quietly, “if I break one of your rules?”
Luca didn’t answer immediately. His gaze dropped to her lips for a brief second before returning to her eyes.
“Then I remind you why they exist,” he said.
Her breath caught.
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It’s a promise,” he replied softly. “The same way everything with me is.”
The room felt suddenly smaller.
She took a step back, needing space, clarity—something solid to hold onto. “I won’t be controlled.”
He took a step toward her, closing the distance again, his presence overwhelming without a single touch.
“And I won’t pretend you can walk away untouched,” he said. “Not anymore.”
Her heart pounded, fear and something dangerously close to desire twisting together in her chest.
“Tonight,” he added, his voice lower now, “you stay. Tomorrow, you decide how this continues.”
She searched his face for doubt.
She found none.
Somewhere deep inside, she realized the truth she’d been avoiding since the terrace, since that first look held too long.
Luca De Santis wasn’t testing her.
He was setting terms.
And the first rule of his world was simple: once the king chose you, there was no going back.
- Writer
