Chapter 2 — The House That Owns You
1210 Words
The car ride was silent.
Sofia sat pressed against the door of the black SUV, as far away from Luca De Luca as the seat would allow.
She was still wearing her wedding dress.
The silk was wrinkled and stained. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
She pressed them flat against her thighs, willing them to be still.
They weren’t.
Across from her, Luca looked out the window.
He didn’t check his phone. He didn’t make a call. He didn’t do any of the things she expected from a man who had just killed someone in a church full of witnesses.
He simply watched the city pass by as if nothing unusual had happened.
As if a man hadn’t died only hours ago.
“You’re not going to say anything?” Sofia finally asked.
Her own voice startled her.
Too calm.
Too controlled.
Luca slowly turned his head toward her.
“What would you like me to say?”
“I don’t know.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Something. An apology would be a start.”
“I don’t apologize for things I don’t regret.”
The answer should have made her angry.
Instead, it made something inside her go cold.
She turned back toward the window and watched the streetlights blur past.
The silence returned.
And this time, it felt heavier.
⸻
The De Luca estate stood behind towering iron gates on the edge of the city.
It was the kind of place that didn’t need to announce its wealth.
Everyone already knew who owned it.
Stone walls rose behind perfectly trimmed hedges. Guards stood at the gates, watching the approaching car with cold, unreadable expressions.
Sofia had grown up surrounded by money.
Her father’s home had staff, a swimming pool, and a wine cellar he loved showing off to his guests.
But this was different.
Her father’s house had been built to impress people.
This place had been built to control them.
Beauty and violence lived here together.
And somehow, Sofia knew exactly which one ruled.
Luca stepped out of the car.
Sofia followed.
He led her through the enormous front doors without looking back, and she found herself walking half a step behind him before she caught herself.
She slowed down.
Lifted her chin.
She refused to look obedient.
Even if she had no choice but to follow.
Inside, the house was quieter than she expected.
Marble floors stretched beneath her feet. A grand staircase curved toward the upper level.
A man stood waiting near the bottom.
He looked to be in his mid-thirties, broad-shouldered and solidly built, with a scar cutting through one of his eyebrows.
He straightened when he saw them.
“Enzo,” Luca said. “He runs security.”
Luca glanced briefly at Sofia.
“You’ll see him more than you’ll see me.”
Enzo’s eyes moved over her carefully.
Not rudely.
Not kindly, either.
He studied her like he was trying to decide whether she was someone who needed protection…
Or someone who needed watching.
“Ma’am,” he said.
“Sofia,” she corrected.
Mostly out of stubbornness.
She didn’t want to be ma’am.
She didn’t want to belong here in any form.
Luca didn’t react.
He simply continued walking.
And Sofia followed.
⸻
The room he brought her to was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
A large bed stood in the center. Expensive furniture filled the room. Tall windows overlooked the gardens outside.
Everything was perfect.
Everything was polished.
Everything was a cage.
Sofia walked farther into the room and turned slowly.
“This is yours,” Luca said.
She looked at him.
“Is it?”
His expression didn’t change.
Sofia folded her arms across her chest.
“Or is this just where you’re keeping me until the wedding?”
Something flickered in his eyes.
Not anger.
Surprise.
For a brief second, she thought she had caught him off guard.
Then his expression hardened again.
“Both.”
The word hit harder than she expected.
“Get some rest,” Luca continued. “Someone will bring you clothes.”
He turned toward the door.
“What happens if I refuse to marry you?”
Luca stopped.
Sofia held her breath.
Slowly, he turned back toward her.
There was no cruelty in his face.
That was the frightening part.
Cruelty would have been easier.
She could hate cruelty.
She could fight it.
But Luca looked at her with something far worse.
Certainty.
As if he had already considered every possible choice she could make.
And none of them frightened him.
“Then your father’s debt comes due in full.”
Sofia’s stomach tightened.
“And I promise you,” Luca continued, his voice calm, “he cannot pay it.”
“Not with money.”
He paused.
“Not with anything he has left.”
Sofia stared at him.
“So this is what?” she asked. “A mercy? You’re doing him a favor?”
“I’m doing myself a favor.”
His mouth almost curved into a smile.
Almost.
“You’re simply the part of the arrangement I happen to want.”
The words settled heavily inside her.
She wanted to scream.
To throw something.
To demand an explanation that would somehow make this feel less like being sold.
But there was nothing he could say that would change the truth.
She was here because of her father’s debt.
And Luca De Luca had decided she was the price.
“I hate you,” she whispered.
For the first time, something almost human crossed his face.
Then it disappeared.
“You’re allowed to.”
He opened the door.
“Just be ready by nine tomorrow morning.”
Sofia’s heart stopped.
“We have a wedding to plan.”
He walked out.
The door closed behind him.
For one second, everything was silent.
Then—
Click.
The sound of the lock turning from the outside.
Sofia stood completely still.
Her eyes moved slowly toward the door.
Then back to the room around her.
The beautiful furniture.
The expensive bed.
The tall windows.
The locked door.
A cage.
She sank onto the edge of the bed.
And finally, she cried.
Not for Marco.
Not really.
She knew she should have been mourning him.
But all she could think about was herself.
Because somewhere between the church and this house, her entire life had been stolen.
Rewritten.
Decided for her.
Outside the window, the gardens sat dark and still.
Beautiful.
Perfect.
And completely out of reach.
Sofia didn’t sleep that night.
She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to every unfamiliar sound inside the enormous house.
And sometime before dawn, she made herself a promise.
Luca De Luca might control this house.
He might control her father’s future.
He might even force her to stand beside him at an altar.
But he would never own her.
Not her thoughts.
Not her will.
Not her heart.
And as Sofia closed her eyes, she didn’t realize that somewhere else in the house, Luca was already making plans for what would happen if she tried to run.
Because Sofia still believed she was trapped inside Luca De Luca’s house.
She hadn’t yet realized the truth.
The house wasn’t her prison.
Luca was.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD