Bound to the Ruthless Don

Three—-Isla

I had lost track of the days.

There was no calendar in my room, no phone, no clock. Only the endless, suffocating silence of the mansion. A beautiful prison with no bars, just golden chandeliers, velvet curtains, and cold, unyielding walls.

I had tried to escape, of course. The first day I woke up here, I’d searched every inch of the room for something—anything—I could use to break a window, pick a lock, create a distraction. But the doors were heavy, solid, and locked from the outside. The windows? Bulletproof.

By the second day, I had screamed until my voice was hoarse, demanding answers from anyone who would listen. The guards outside my door had ignored me. The only person who came was Lia, the young maid assigned to watch over me. She had told me her boss’s name—Luca, my kidnapper—and had pleaded with me to stay quiet. Her dark eyes darted nervously toward the door, as if someone would punish her for my outburst, and she had refused to answer my questions.

On the third day, I had stopped shouting.

Luca hadn’t come to see me. He had let me sit with my confusion, my anger, my fear. The only thing he did was ensure I was fed and clothed. Meals arrived on a strict schedule. Expensive silk dresses, surprisingly my exact size were hung in my closet, all in soft, delicate colors, like I was supposed to dress like some pampered wife instead of a hostage.

I refused to wear them.

Instead, I lived in the simple black leggings and oversized T-shirt Lia had quietly slipped me on my second day, since the cloth I came in was nowhere to be found. The only thing I had accepted without a fight was the heavy robe because at night, when the mansion grew eerily quiet, the thick fabric was the only warmth I had.

Now, a week in, I had stopped trying to escape.

Not because I had given up. No, I was waiting. Watching. Observing and plotting my next action.

Luca had kidnapped me for a reason. He hadn’t killed me, hadn’t hurt me, hadn’t demanded anything from me. That meant there was something he wanted. And until I figured out what that was, running blindly into the unknown wasn’t an option.

So when the door opened that morning, and Luca stood in the doorway, I didn’t bother screaming at him.

I just stared, taking in his details.

On a scale of 1 to 100 in danger, I felt like he outweighed my scale.

He was dressed sharply, black slacks, a crisp button-down with the sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms marked with tattoos and scars. He leaned against the doorframe, his expression unreadable, his icy gaze settling on me like I was something he owned, like he could do this all day.

“Get up,” he said. “You’re having breakfast downstairs today.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And here I thought I wasn’t allowed to socialize.”

His lips twitched slightly, like he found my defiance amusing. “Get dressed, Dolcezza.” The timbre of his voice was almost seductive, but he’s my kidnapper and a threat. I couldn’t afford to think about that.

“I am dressed.”

His gaze flicked over me, the leggings, the T-shirt, the robe wrapped tightly around me. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Five minutes.”

Then he turned and walked away, leaving the door open.

I exhaled sharply.

He hadn’t said it outright, but the message was clear. If I didn’t come downstairs on my own, he would make me.

So I pushed myself off the bed, slipping on my crocs, the same ones I had been wearing the night I was taken. I hadn’t worn the stupid heels they left in my closet, and I wasn’t about to start now.

When I walked downstairs, the first thing I noticed was how different the house felt compared to my first night here. Back then, the halls had been quiet, empty, like a museum frozen in time.

Now, there were people.

Men in suits standing at key locations. Murmured conversations. The weight of unseen eyes watching every move I made.

It was a reminder that I wasn’t just in Luca’s home. I was in his world.

The dining room was already occupied when I arrived.

A younger guy, who looked just like Luca but with brown highlights in his dark hair, wore a designer sleeveless shirt and a thick golden chain around his neck. Unlike Luca, he appeared relaxed, idly scrolling through his phone, but something about the way he held himself suggested he was always half-listening, always aware.

Beside him sat a gorgeous lady with perfect black raven hair and makeup, her white dress elegant. She looked every inch like a princess, but her eyes were strangely cold? like a work of art in a luxurious museum. She looked bored, eyeing me like I held little of her interest, but as I took the empty chair at the table, she looked almost surprised before quickly schooling her face back into an icy mask. Her fingers resumed tracing the diamonds adorning her rings.

I took my seat at the vacant chair. The tension in the room was suffocating. I focused on the food in front of me—eggs, fruit, bread—but I didn’t eat.

“Are you enjoying your stay?” The blonde, still pouring herself over Luca since I entered the room, asked suddenly. Her tone was sweet yet venomous.

I dragged my eyes to her. She had a smirk on her lips, a silk robe draped over her frame like she’d just rolled out of someone’s bed, most definitely Luca’s, with the way she had been rubbing herself all over him.

“You mean, am I enjoying being kidnapped? Locked away in a room like some forgotten pet?” I scoffed. “Yeah. Best vacation ever.”

She chuckled, clearly amused. “You’ll get used to it.”

I wanted to throw my glass at her. Instead, I gripped the edge of the table.

“Enough,” Luca’s icy voice cut through the tension as he looked at me, daring me to say something else. He picked up his knife. “Eat.”

And then the first crash.

The dining room door slammed open.

Two men in black suits rushed in. Unlike the others in the house, they weren’t standing guard. They were moving with purpose, hands twitching toward the weapons beneath their jackets.

Luca was on his feet in an instant.

“Don,” one of the men said urgently. “We have a problem.”

The air in the room shifted.

His sister was the first to react. She didn’t scream. She didn’t panic. She simply pulled a gun from somewhere under her dress and placed it casually on the table, then continued eating.

Luca’s brother, still scrolling through his phone, reached under the table and pulled out two black guns like it was part of the cutlery.

I could feel my heart thundering in my chest, the terror rising in waves. This wasn’t just an ordinary family breakfast; it was like something out of an action movie.

I looked at the woman who had been pouring herself over Luca earlier, hoping to see her share my fear. But she just smiled, pulling a blade from the folds of her robe, twirling it between her fingers like it was second nature.

My stomach twisted.

They weren’t surprised. They were prepared.

From the hallway, more men emerged, dressed in black, their uniforms laced with wires, blending seamlessly into the mansion’s security team.

Shadows that had been hidden all along.

The realization hit me like a slap. We were under attack, and I was the only one in the room without a weapon.

Luca’s cold gaze flickered to me. “Take her upstairs.”

One of the suited men grabbed my arm before I could protest.

“Luca—”

“Stay in your room,” he ordered. “This doesn’t concern you.”

The last thing I saw before I was dragged away was Luca’s left hand shifting beneath the table, revealing a silver gun, glinting in the dim light, while his right hand took out another gun from his jacket.

And then the door slammed shut behind me as I was led upstairs to my room.

I had no idea what was happening.

But I knew one thing.

Luca and his people were more dangerous than the normal level of danger. They were the Deadly