He's 21, I'm 31

11

Diana’s POV

I didn't wait for Amara to finish her sentence. I just turned and bolted.

His mansion was too far to reach on foot, so I doubled back to Amara’s room.

"Amara, book me a cab. Or give me the money to catch one myself."

"We don't have the money," Tom snarled from the couch.

"I wasn't talking to you, Tom," I snapped back. "I’m talking to my friend."

"And as her future husband, I’m the one answering you."

"Tom, take it easy," Amara sighed. She leaned down to kiss him before standing up and pulling me into her bedroom.

"Look, Diana, let me advise you—don't go anywhere tonight. Wait until morning."

After a long, heated argument, I finally agreed to stay. Tom was so angry that I was staying over that he slammed the door and left.

I spent the night staring at the ceiling, my mind a whirlwind of everything I had lost. Ayla was gone. Amara was beside me, snoring loudly, but I couldn't find a moment of peace. What if Alessandro captured me again? He had warned me never to let him see my face. But I would risk a thousand deaths to find my child.

"Don't tell me you stayed up all night,"

Amara’s voice groaned as the sun began to peek through the curtains.

"Just give me the money, Amara. I don't have time for this."

"Don't worry, I booked the cab last night.

You can leave as soon as it arrives."

She forced me to bathe and eat, lending me a set of her own clothes to replace my hospital gown. When the yellow taxi finally pulled up, I was already outside, biting my nails to the quick.

The driver rolled down his window.

"Diana?"

"Yes." I slid into the backseat.

"Where to? You didn't provide an address in the app."

"Alessandro’s house."

The driver’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. He stared at me through the rearview mirror, his eyes wide with shock. "Are you okay? I don't know what the hell you’re thinking going there, but I’m not taking you to that man’s house. You won't walk out of there alive. And don't you dare speak his name—call him 'Master' like everyone else."

"Just take me there," I said firmly.

"It’s your funeral, lady."

"You’ve been paid. Stop wasting my time and drive."

The ride took thirty minutes. I was silent the whole way, lost in thought.

"We're here," the driver said, pulling up to the massive gates. "Good luck. You’ll need it."

The moment I stepped out, he sped away, leaving me standing alone before the fifteen-foot iron gates.

You’re doing this for Ayla. Be strong.

Don't let him break you, I whispered to myself. I walked up the driveway and pressed the intercom.

"Who’s there?" a voice barked.

"I’m here to see... Master."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No—"

"You can’t just demand to see Master. He’s a busy man, and he's the Boss. Leave."

"It's Diana! The woman he took days ago!" I gathered every bit of courage I had and shouted into the speaker. There was a long silence, then the heavy creak of the gates opening.

"Master will see you now."

I stepped through, my breath catching.

The house looked different—as if it had been completely renovated in a single day, or perhaps I had been held in a different wing before. A man dressed in all black met me at the door.

"Follow me," he said.

I kept my head down, following the click of his expensive shoes down a vast hallway lined with priceless paintings.

We stopped at a set of white double doors with sleek bronze handles.

"Master? Diana is here," the man said into a device on his wrist. He received a silent reply and swung the doors open.

"Go in." He gave me a predatory smirk as I passed.

The office was spacious and flooded with sunshine from a large window on the left. Bookshelves lined the right wall. In the center stood a long mahogany desk.

"Sit, pet."

The word sent a shiver of revulsion down my spine. Alessandro was sitting in a leather chair turned away from me.

"I don't know if you're brave or just incredibly stupid to come back here after I warned you, my dear pet Diana."

"A little bit of both," I answered, my throat dry.

"Let me be a good man for a minutes" He spun the chair around, his hands splayed across the desk. "My time is valuable. What do you want?" He began slowly rolling up his sleeves, revealing his forearms.

"Where is my daughter?"

"There is nothing to discuss regarding your daughter."

"She is the only thing to discuss!" I argued.

He smirks, pouring milk from a bottle into a glass. He filled a second glass and brought it over to me. "Take it. It’s something you need to learn to enjoy, pet."

He towered over me like a giant. I wrapped my shaking fingers around the glass, needing both hands to keep from spilling it.

"I'm not here for this rubbish," I said, pushing the glass back toward him.

"Where is my daughter? You took her. Please... she's all I have."

He didn't answer. Instead, he reached down, gripping my chair and yanking it forward until our knees touched. I held my breath, terrified of what he was doing. He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was ice-cold.

"Think of it like a ransom," he whispered.

"I have your daughter, and the price is ten thousand dollars. So, pet... when are you going to pay?"

"I am not your pet! And I don't have that kind of money!" I hissed.

"You are the most important thing to ever walk through these doors," he said, grabbing my chin and forcing me to meet his dark gaze. His eyes were so dark I couldn't tell where the pupils ended. "Do you know why I hate being called Alessandro?"

I shook my head, gasping as his other hand squeezed my thigh.

"My mother named me that because she thought the name makes people calm and kind-hearted. But I am not. I take. I punish. I demand. I thought you were an innocent soul, but you are the most foolish person I’ve ever met. And now, you’re trapped in the Devil’s lair."

He tilted his head, his gaze boring into mine. "Your stupidity almost impresses me. Even through your fear, you’ll take anything I give you, won’t you?"

"I’ll do anything for my daughter," I whispered voice shaking.

A wicked grin spread across his face. He leaned back, sipping his milk before setting the glass down with a heavy clunk. Then, he leaned forward again, his palms landing on my thighs and forcing them apart.

"I will return your daughter on two conditions," he growled, his lips almost brushing mine. "You marry me, and you give me a child. Do that, and your daughter is free."

"What? No! I won't—"

He suddenly wrapped a hand around my throat, his grip firm but not quite choking me. "You’ll be begging me to f**k you, pet. You'll be screaming my name when I do. Everything about you will be mine. And most importantly... I will drink from your breast three times every single day. I will devour you. I will ruin you. Those are the terms. Deal... or no deal?"