Bound by Vengeance!

Chapter Three

Isabelle's Pov

When Luca left my new room, slamming that door with a dreadful finality, I just stood there frozen for several long minutes.

My heart hammered against my chest with trepidation....part of me wished this was all a dream.

But the cold, opulent surroundings said otherwise.

This was really happening.

I was now the property...the wife...of that brutally handsome monster of a man.

An involuntary shudder racked my frame as I recalled the darkness simmering behind Luca's intense gaze when he spoke of me "adjusting" to life here. Just what fresh terrors did he have in store?

I was abruptly jolted from my panicked reverie by a soft rapping at the door.

Before I could call out, it cracked open and an older, stout woman in a crisp black dress swept inside.

She bobbed a little curtsy in my direction.

"Good evening, miss," she said, her tone polished but friendly. "Welcome to the Castellano estate. I'm Mrs. Bianchi, the head of the domestic staff."

Taking a calming breath, I forced what I hoped was a brave smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Bianchi. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She smiled warmly and began unpacking some of my things from the valise.

"Well now, let's get you settled in, shall we dear? Some lovely evening wear laid out for dinner, a hot bath drawn..."

A violent spasm of protest surged through me at the implication of her words.

My new "husband" expected me to dine with him this very first night.

To sit at his table, pretend at domestic normalcy after being so coldly and forcefully ripped from my old life?

I opened my mouth to object but then caught the sharp look Mrs Bianchi shot me over her shoulder.

That halted me more effectively than any words could.

"Yes," I managed in a tight voice. "A bath would be...appreciated. Thank you."

The older woman gave a curt nod and rang for a maid to start preparing things.

As I waited for her to return, Mrs. Bianchi studied me in a considering manner.

"So, Isabella, where are you from, dear? Forgive me, but your accent doesn't strike me as local..."

"Milan originally," I answered quietly, wringing my hands in my lap. "But my family has estates here as well."

Mrs Bianchi nodded as she expected as much.

With the other maid now drawing my bath in the adjoining washroom, she moved to stand directly before me, hands folded in front of her primly.

"I won't lie to you, my dear." Her voice dropped an octave, taking on a hushed urgency. "Life here at the Manor can be...challenging for new brides such as yourself. Mr. Castellano is not a man accustomed to softness or fragility. You'll need a stiff backbone and thicker skin if you wish to avoid being utterly overwhelmed."

My face flushed furiously at her blunt words. But the stern, almost pitying look in Mrs. Bianchi's eyes told me she was speaking from harsh experience.

This was clearly a warning, not an insult.

"I understand," I replied, struggling to keep my voice level and composed. "Please, tell me what's expected of me so I can conduct myself properly."

Mrs. Bianchi held my gaze a moment longer, then gave an approving nod.

"Very well. Mr. Castellano keeps late hours, as I'm sure you noticed. But when summoned for dinner, you'll want to be prompt and presentable. He has little tolerance for dawdling."

I swallowed hard and nodded.

"At meals and social functions, you'll remain by his side unless instructed otherwise. Don't speak out of turn and never question him, no matter how unreasonable his demands may seem. Your place is to be an ornament and hostess, nothing more."

The bluntness of her words was like being slapped. But I understood this was her way of tempering me for the realities I now faced.

At that moment the maid emerged to announce my bath was ready. Mrs. Bianchi patted my hand in a grandmotherly gesture.

"You have a difficult road ahead, my dear. But remember, no one is stronger than she can be. Just keep your eyes down and weather the worst of it with grace. This too shall pass, one way or another."

With those ominous parting words, she ushered me towards the bathroom so I could prepare for my formal introduction as Mrs. Luca Castellano.

An hour later, I was descending the grand staircase in a shimmering silver evening gown, my face expertly made up and my hair elaborately styled. Mrs. Bianchi and two maids trailed behind, making last-mi adjustments and offering hushed reassurances.

Despite their efforts, my legs felt like jelly and my stomach was a tangled knot of pure dread.

I wanted nothing more than to flee back to the relative safety of my rooms.

But I knew from Mrs. Bianchi's counsel that turning craven now would only make things exponentially worse in the days and weeks to come.

So I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders, clutching the railing for balance as I approached the landing.

That's when I noticed him lounging on a leather armchair, legs crossed we he puffed on a cigar.

But I also noticed this man's striking beauty as he stared out his window.

His jawline was strong, along with beautiful piercing blue eyes.

His well-shaven beard complimented his features perfectly, but all in all, he looked fiercely intimidating.

When he heard my small retinue approaching, those piercing dark eyes sliced up to pin me in a place like a butterfly to a board.

I felt my throat constrict as his bold gaze openly raked over every inch of me.

Luca said nothing but his lips curved in a subtle smirk of...approval? Possession?

I couldn't tell, but it made me profoundly uneasy and self-conscious all the same.

Without taking his eyes off me, Luca simply crooked one finger in a beckoning wave of his hand. I looked to Mrs. Bianchi who gave me an urgent nod to obey.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I slowly descended the last few steps until I stood before Luca.

Up close, he seemed even larger than life, with power and calm menace radiating off him in waves.

"Nice to see you embrace the finer things so readily, wife," Luca purred after a beat, languid eyes travelling over me again. "You clean up quite nicely."

My cheeks flamed scarlet at his mocking leer. But I managed to suppress the urge to squirm or look away.

Rising from his chair in one fluid motion, Luca closed the distance between us until he loomed over me like a thunderhead.

He trailed the knuckles of one hand down the side of my neck and bare shoulder with excruciating slowness.

"Soft, pampered skin..." he murmured in a gravelly rumble, his voice seemed to slide over my flesh like a caress. "You'll toughen up quickly around here, Mrs. Castellano. One way or another."

With that silken threat, he hooked an arm around my lower back, moulding me flush against his powerful frame. I could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Shall we?" he growled against my temple, then started propelling me towards the dining room without awaiting a response.

As we rounded the corner, arm in arm like some grotesque perversion of a honeymoon couple, my gaze landed on a familiar face lurking in the shadows of a nearby alcove.

It was a lithe, sharply dressed man with a cruel, mocking grin.

One I instantly recognized as the same thug who'd driven us here earlier from my father's estate.

He tracked every inch of our progress with a chillingly predatory look that made me question whether he was one of the family's guards...or something more sinister.

I opened my mouth to whisper this to Luca, but his crushing grip and merciless forward momentum silenced me before the words could come out.

As we passed by the alcove, the mysterious man slid out from the shadows to follow us, trailing several paces behind like a spectre.

All the while, that wicked smile never wavered from his lips.