Bound by Blood and Sin

Chapter 4: RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

Isabella

Dante was waiting when I returned.

He stood in the living room, his jacket off, sleeves rolled up, looking at something on his phone. He glanced up as I entered, his expression unreadable.

"You're two minutes late," he said.

"Arrest me," I shot back.

The guards who had followed me shifted uncomfortably. Dante waved them away with one hand. They left quickly, closing the doors behind them.

We were alone.

"Sit," he said, gesturing to the sofa.

"I'd rather stand."

"I don't care what you'd rather do. Sit."

Something in his voice made my body obey before my mind caught up. I sat, hating myself for the compliance, and hating him more.

He remained standing, looking down at me. The power imbalance was obvious, and deliberate.

"We need to establish ground rules," he said. "This arrangement works only if you understand your position."

"You mean my prison."

"Call it what you want. The reality doesn't change." He moved to the bar, poured himself whiskey. Didn't offer me any.

"Rule one: you won't leave this building without informing the security. Ever. I don't care if you're going to the corner store. They need to know."

"So I'm a prisoner."

"You're protected. There's a difference."

"Not from where I'm sitting."

He ignored that. "Rule two: family events are mandatory. Dinners, meetings, weddings, and funerals. You must attend, smile and play the role of my devoted wife."

"I'm not an actress."

"Learn." He sipped his drink. "Rule three: No contact with your old life without approval–friends, coworkers, or anyone. They're all security risks."

I stood up at that, anger overriding fear. "You can't isolate me completely. That's cruel. That's inhumane."

"That's survival," he corrected. "Anyone close to you becomes leveraged. Leverage gets people killed."

"My aunt," I said. "You threatened my aunt to get me here. Don't pretend this is about my safety."

For the first time, something crossed his face. Not quite guilty. Maybe recognition.

"Your aunt is protected because you're here. She stays protected as long as you cooperate. That's how this works."

"This is insane," I whispered. "You're talking about my life like it's a business transaction."

"Because it is." He set down his glass. "Your father understood that. He traded you for peace, for protection, and for power. That's what people like us do. We trade. We negotiate. We survive."

"I'm not like you."

"No," he agreed, studying me with those dark, cold eyes. "Not yet."

The words hung between us like a threat or a promise.

I wrapped my arms around myself. "What happens after the wedding? Do these rules get worse? Do I lose even more?"

"That depends on you," he said. "Behave, and you'll have freedom within limits. Fight me at every turn, and those limits get smaller."

"So my choices are to obey or suffer."

"Welcome to marriage," he said dryly.

I laughed. The sound was sharp, and broken. "This isn't marriage. This is ownership with paperwork."

"Yes," he said again, the same calm acknowledgement. "But the paperwork makes it legal, makes you untouchable to my enemies and makes you mine in every way possible."

The possessiveness in that last word made my skin crawl.

"I hate you," I said clearly, wanting him to hear it, and to understand it.

"Good," Dante replied. "Hate is honest. I hate working there." He moved closer, invading my space deliberately. "What I can't work with is stupidity. Running. Crying to people who can't help you. Trying to find loopholes that don't exist."

He was close enough that I could smell his cologne. Expensive. Dark. Overwhelming.

"So here's the real rule, Isabella. The only one that actually matters." His voice dropped lower, intimate in a way that felt like a violation. "You belong to me now. Your time. Your presence. Your future. All mine. Fight that reality and you'll lose. Accept it, and you might find life more bearable than you expect."

I forced myself to meet his eyes. "And what do you get out of this? Besides a wife who hates you?"

"Legitimacy," he said simply. "Your father's territory without bloodshed. An alliance that strengthens my position. And a woman smart enough to survive in this world without making me look weak."

"How romantic," I said bitterly.

"Romance is for people who can afford it," he replied. "We can't."

He stepped back, the moment breaking. "The wedding planner will return tomorrow. Cooperate with her. The ceremony happens in three weeks whether you're ready or not."

He walked toward the door, then paused. "And Isabella? Next time you want fresh air, just ask. The guards are there to protect you, not punish you. Learn the difference."

Then he was gone, leaving me alone with rules I never agreed to and a future I couldn't escape.

I sank back onto the sofa and finally let the tears come.