Bella and the Beast

5

Bella

The contract sat heavy in my lap, my fingers tightening around its edges. One year. One year of being tied to a man who treated marriage like a business transaction. One year of exile from my family.

One year of pure freedom.

It felt like a dream—an escape. I had never been free in my life, and now, this marriage, this cold, calculated arrangement, was my way out.

The car slowed, rolling up to a sleek, towering estate fortified with top-tier security at every angle. I doubted even the president was this protected. But what else could I expect from the mafia? Their lives were constant battlegrounds, and their homes? Fortresses.

The moment the vehicle stopped, the driver stepped out and opened my door. I hesitated for only a second before lifting my chin and stepping out.

Massimo was waiting.

He stood by the entrance, hands tucked into his pockets, exuding the kind of control that made the air around him feel colder. His dark eyes locked onto mine, unreadable, unwavering. He didn’t smile.

“You’ve made your decision,” he said. Not a question. A statement.

“As I expected from a smart woman.”

I took a slow breath, squaring my shoulders. “I have conditions.”

Something flickered in Massimo’s gaze—curiosity, amusement, maybe even challenge. Then, he chuckled. Low, sharp.

“You’re escaping your family, yet you think you have the luxury of making demands?”

Before I could respond, he closed the distance between us in one smooth step. His fingers gripped my chin, tilting my face up. His movements were precise, calculated, a predator toying with its prey. Then he leaned in, his breath fanning against my skin.

“No, princess,” he murmured, his voice like velvet and steel. “I don’t give a damn about your conditions. This marriage is all you have. I am all you have. And that makes me your savior.”

Anger ignited in my chest. I shoved his hand away, meeting his gaze with fire of my own.

“You are not my savior, Massimo Alessio.” My voice was steady, cutting. “You need me just as much as I need you.”

For the first time, his expression flickered. Interest. Amusement. Something darker.

“I like my women stubborn,” Massimo murmured, his voice low, almost thoughtful. “It makes breaking them all the more satisfying. Slowly. Until they are docile, respectful, and obedient.”

A shiver ran down my spine. Not the kind that came from intimidation, but something deeper. Something wrong.

I was not an animal to be trained.

“The deal is off.” My voice wavered, betraying the fear creeping up my throat. “I—I will not marry you.”

Massimo exhaled, as if I had just said something amusingly naive. Then he stepped forward, slow and deliberate, like a lion cornering its prey.

“Oh, but you already have,” he said smoothly. “Your father and your ancestors owes my family their lives , and instead of dying like a good father for you, he traded yours for his and your siblings. There is no escaping me.”

The air in my lungs turned to ice.

He reached out to touch my face, but I turned away sharply, my breath uneven.

Massimo chuckled, dark and unbothered. “I could keep you locked here forever, princess. You are mine—whether you like it or not. But I am trying to be nice.”

His voice dipped, his gaze hardening. l“So don’t piss me off.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into fists. If what he said was even remotely true, my father had sold me into modern-day slavery. A transaction. A debt paid in flesh.

To think I had once believed this bastard was my saving grace. That illusion shattered, leaving only the cold, bitter truth behind.

My pulse pounded as I lifted my chin, forcing steel into my spine. “Well, f**k you and whatever deal you have with my father. I am a person, not a property.”

Massimo stilled. The amusement in his eyes vanished, replaced by something far more dangerous—calculating, razor-sharp.

“Brave words for someone who no longer has a choice,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “But I wonder… how long will that fire last?”

I refused to look away. “Long enough to burn you,” I spat.

For a second, silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken threats. Then, to my disgust, his lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk.

“Good,” he murmured. “I do love a challenge.”

That day, I returned home and had the biggest fight of my life with my father. I refused to marry that man. He refused to believe anything I had to say about Massimo or his family. Worse, he refused to admit what we both knew to be true—that he was selling his own daughter into modern-day slavery to save himself.

When words failed to sway me, he resorted to violence. His hands struck out, but I refused to bow. I had endured his wrath before, and I would endure it again. Or so I thought.

Until he sent me to the isolation room.

A dark, suffocating space where there was nothing—not even my clothes. No light, no warmth. Just the endless loop of the night my mother died. Her cries. Her final, gasping breath. The reminder that I was the reason she was gone.

This was my father’s cruelest weapon. His worst torture. And he had wielded it against me five times now.

The first two were to remind me of my sins. The third was for disobedience. The fourth, for running.

And now, this—for refusing to marry a madman.

I told myself I would endure. That I wouldn’t break this time. But the darkness wrapped around me, digging into old wounds, pulling me into a pit I could never crawl out of. And in the end, I did crawl—to the cold, unyielding metal door.

Scratching. Begging.

I agreed to marry.

My father forced me to go back to Massimo—to beg for the contract. But somehow, I refused to stoop that low, even if I never said it out loud. I kept my gaze lowered as I stood before him in his grand estate, my pride barely holding me together.

“I will sign the contract…” I murmured, my voice barely audible.

Massimo chuckled darkly, the sound curling around me like a predator playing with its prey. “The deal is off, princess. I was offering you freedom after a year, but you preferred to be stubborn.”

For a moment, hope flickered in my chest. My eyes brightened with a hidden excitement I couldn’t suppress. “So… you don’t want to marry me anymore?”

He leaned in, close enough that his breath fanned against my skin. A cruel smirk tugged at his lips.

“No, princess,” he murmured, his voice like silk wrapped around steel. “You misinterpreted. There is no more marriage contract. Instead, you will belong to me for as long as I wish.”