Owned by Mr Mafia

Chapter Five: Midnight Terror

Back at the mansion, Isabella didn’t speak a word to Luca. She simply retreated to her bedroom, her legs weak, her chest tight with exhaustion and dread. She slipped under the covers, curling up as if hiding from the entire world. Her mind raced with thoughts of Diego, the shopping trip, and the growing weight of her new life but soon, fatigue claimed her, and she drifted into a restless sleep.

She had no idea how long she slept. When she finally woke, the mansion was dark and silent. Only the early hours of the morning, around 2 a.m., filled the air.

A strange sound pierced the stillness soft groans, desperate and low. Isabella froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart pounded in her chest as terror wrapped around her like a vice. Slowly, trembling, she slipped out of bed and padded barefoot down the hallway, drawn to the noise.

The closer she got, the more she realized what she was hearing. She approached a dimly lit room, her stomach twisting with fear. There, she saw Luca standing over a man, a knife raised in his hand, poised to strike.

“Please… I’m just a spy, I know nothing!” the man begged, his voice shaking, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

Isabella’s body froze, the sight almost too much to bear. The knife hovered above the man’s finger, and instinctively, her voice broke through the tension.

“Stop!” she screamed, then quickly softened it into a trembling whisper, sobbing quietly. “Stop… please…”

At the sound of her voice, Luca paused mid-motion. His cold eyes snapped toward her. For a moment, he simply stared, silent and deadly, and then almost imperceptibly his hand relaxed, and the knife dropped to the floor with a metallic clatter.

Without a word, he swept toward her, lifting her gently into his arms. Isabella shivered violently, burying her face in his chest as his broad hands held her close. “Stay here,” he murmured to his men in a low, commanding tone. “Clean this up. And lock him up.”

Carrying her bridal-style, he returned to her room and set her on the bed, her trembling body nearly collapsing from fear. He sat beside her, his gaze softening slightly as he looked at her tousled hair, her pale face, and the tiny shivers running through her body. Her eyes, wide and full of terror, made something inside him shift, though his face remained cold and unreadable.

“So, princess,” he said finally, his voice low and smooth, “I stopped… for you. How are you going to pay me back?”

Isabella’s eyes widened in shock. She stammered, trying to find words, but nothing came out.

Luca’s patience thinned; he reached forward, lifting her chin gently. His fingers traced down to her trembling lips. She flinched slightly, her body taut with fear and confusion. His dark eyes flashed with a hint of hurt but it disappeared in seconds, replaced with his usual icy composure.

He leaned closer and tugged her carefully toward the bed, his hand firm yet surprisingly tender. Without another word, he left the room, his presence lingering like a shadow over her.

Alone, Isabella lay in the bed, her heart hammering so loudly she could swear the walls of the room echoed it. Her hands trembled as she pulled the covers closer around her, trying to calm herself but her mind refused. The image of Luca, the knife, the pleading man, and the raw, terrifying power he wielded replayed in her thoughts, leaving her trembling and wide-eyed in the darkness.

The mansion was silent again, but Isabella knew one thing for certain: nothing would ever feel safe as long as Luca was near and yet, somehow, she couldn’t imagine wanting him any less.