DEBT OF DESIRE

CAGED PRINCESS

I froze, my chest tightening. “You… you can’t just—”

“Watch me,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “I told you, this is your life now. Obey, and things will be easier. Resist, and you’ll regret it.”

I wanted to scream, punch him in the face, even run. But the house was crawling with his henchmen. They’d catch me before I even made it to the gate. I needed to make a plan—one that would get me out without anyone noticing.

“Okay… can you at least show me my room? Where will I be sleeping?” I asked cautiously, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked, amused. “Oh, your room? Come. Let me give you a grand tour. But remember—you’re not free to wander. You’ll be where I want you, when I want you.”

I nodded. He opened the door, and we walked toward the grand staircase.

“Come, I’ll show you the house,” he said.

On the walls hung portraits—men in sharp suits, eyes cold, gazes proud. Mafia bosses before him.

“This is where my picture will hang soon, when I pass down my legacy to… our son. We call it the Wall of Fame. It’s where great rulers are remembered after they pass their legacy to the next generation.”

The word our son made my stomach turn. “I notice there isn’t a woman on this wall. What if I… give birth to a girl?” I asked carefully.

“If you give me a daughter, that’s fine. But tradition doesn’t allow a woman to rule. A woman must follow. Obey.” His tone darkened. “So you’d better pray the gods give us a son first. But…” He chuckled softly before his face turned cold again. “A daughter would still be my little princess.”

We continued down the hall. His voice echoed like a warning.

“These walls have eyes. Not that you’ll need them, as long as you listen. You don’t have to make life difficult for yourself. Just obey.”

Everything around me was beautiful—old classic elegance. But the house was cold, lifeless, haunted. Cameras blinked from every corner.

“This house is huge,” Rafael said. “I can’t give you the full tour. I have things to take care of. But this—this is your room. Get inside and stay inside. Though, come, sit for a moment. I want to tell you my rules.”

Rules. More rules.

The room was luxurious—too luxurious. A diamond chandelier glittered overhead. The wallpaper was soft pink, and the balcony overflowed with orchids. It looked like a castle from a fairy tale. But I was no princess. I was a prisoner.

I sat on the bed, while Rafael settled into the chair opposite me.

“I might not be home for a week. Maybe two. Maybe longer. If I’m away, you’ll have dinner in your room. There’s a curfew—by ten, you should be in bed. If I’m home, dinner is at eight. Wear something nice. Always.”

I cut in nervously. “But I left my clothes at my apartment—”

“Mrs. Romano.” His voice was ice. “Never speak when I’m still talking.”

Heat rushed to my face. I looked down, ashamed.

“You think I don’t know that?” He leaned back, calm again. “No visitors. No surprises. Trust me, it’s better that way. You’ll see your mother twice a week. If she recovers, maybe more.”

“So… I’ll be locked inside this room until you say so? Am I a prisoner here?”

“You can use the balcony. Watch the garden. But the front yard? Too risky.” His cold smile sent a shiver through me. “I keep you safe, yet you fear me. Funny, isn’t it?”

I stayed silent.

He stood and moved toward the door. “My little Mrs. Romano…”

I turned, my heart pounding.

“Remember—if you try anything stupid, you’ll learn why rules exist.” With that, he shut the door.

Anger burned in me. I was going to live like a prisoner. No—I refused.

I grabbed my phone and called Pamela. He never said anything about video calls.

The moment she answered, I spilled everything. She gasped. “You’re married already? And I didn’t even get to be your maid of honor?”

I gave a humorless laugh. “Girl, everything happened so fast. It’s like a nightmare I can’t wake up from.”

“Oh, Aria, I’m sorry. But at least you’ve got a gorgeous room—and hey, you’re technically rich now. I heard that when a mafia marries, everything he owns belongs to his spouse too. You get fifty percent.”

“That man? Share his wealth?” I scoffed. “He doesn’t even share his heart. When he kissed me earlier, it was like kissing a cactus.”

Pamela gasped. “Wait—you kissed him? The most powerful man in the country? Tell me everything.”

I sighed. “It wasn’t a kiss. It was forced. A performance. Nothing more.”

We ended up laughing for nearly thirty minutes, until the door suddenly slammed open. Rafael stormed in, his eyes blazing.

He grabbed the phone from my hands with terrifying force.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” I shouted.

“I said no visitations. That means no calls, from or to anyone.” His voice was sharp, dangerous. “You don’t listen. Do I need to chain you? Or punish you? Trust me—you won’t like either.”

Fear froze me. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know. Please, don’t yell.”

He stepped closer, and for a moment I thought he might hold me. But at the last second, he turned away and slammed the door.

I sobbed into my hands. Then I sat up, wiping my tears. No. I wasn’t going to let him break me.

I needed a plan. A plan that wouldn’t fail. Because I would not be his prisoner forever.