Chapter 5
1585 Words
The night felt suffocating after Elijah left. The walls pressed in tighter, the silence amplifying the storm raging inside me. Sleep was out of the question. My fingers drummed against my thigh as I paced, adrenaline coursing through me.
I had found something—something that could be my key to freedom. Lorenzo Bianchi. Last seen in Florence. If he had escaped Elijah, he knew something, and that knowledge could be my weapon.
But how would I get out? The door was locked. The windows reinforced. The walls held no other secrets—at least none that I had found yet. My only way out was through him.
The thought sent a shiver through me, an unwilling thrill that I quickly smothered. I hated that my body reacted to him, to his touch, to the way his voice wrapped around me like a velvet chain. He was my captor. My enemy.
And yet, when he looked at me like I was his possession, something inside me burned.
I shook the thought away and forced myself to think. If tomorrow was the wedding, he would have to let me out of this room. I needed to be ready.
I reached for the book again, flipping through the pages, memorizing the names, the locations, anything that might give me an edge. A plan started forming, shaky but possible. If I could get to Lorenzo, if I could find a way to use what I knew, I could make Elijah regret ever thinking he could keep me.
The first step was surviving tomorrow.
Morning came too soon. The knock on the door was sharp, demanding. I forced myself to appear calm as I stepped back from the bookshelf, schooling my features into an impassive mask.
The door opened, and a woman entered. She was elegant, dressed in a fitted black dress, her hair pulled into a tight bun. She carried a garment bag over one arm, her expression unreadable.
"Time to get ready," she said coolly.
I crossed my arms. "Not interested."
Her lips curved into a smirk. "That wasn’t a request."
Two men stepped in behind her. I recognized them—Elijah’s men. I had seen them before, shadows lurking in the background, always watching.
My stomach twisted, but I lifted my chin. "Fine. But I’m not wearing anything ridiculous."
The woman let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, don’t worry. It’s exactly what he picked out."
That didn’t reassure me.
She unzipped the garment bag, revealing a white silk dress, simple yet devastatingly beautiful. My throat tightened. This wasn’t just a dress. It was a symbol of control, of ownership.
I wanted to rip it apart.
Instead, I let them dress me, my movements stiff, my mind spinning with plans. The dress fit perfectly, hugging my curves in a way that felt both elegant and imprisoning. The woman stepped back, assessing me with a critical eye before nodding in approval.
"He’s waiting," she said.
I clenched my fists, forcing myself to move. Every step I took out of that room felt surreal. I had been locked away for what felt like forever. Now, I was being led down a grand hallway, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs.
The doors at the end of the corridor swung open, revealing a breathtaking ballroom. Chandeliers glittered above, casting golden light over the polished floor. And at the center of it all, Elijah stood, waiting.
He was devastatingly handsome, dressed in a tailored black suit, his dark hair slightly tousled as if he had run his fingers through it one too many times. His gaze locked onto me, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.
"You look beautiful," he murmured as I approached.
I stopped just out of reach. "I don’t care."
His lips twitched, amused. "Of course you don’t."
I swallowed hard, my pulse skittering. "Why are we doing this? What’s the point?"
He reached out, his fingers grazing my chin, tilting my face up to meet his. "Because it’s necessary."
"For you," I shot back.
"For both of us," he corrected, his voice quieter now. "You don’t see the whole picture, Elena. But you will."
I hated how his touch sent heat curling through me. I hated how his voice made my stomach tighten.
But most of all, I hated that a part of me wanted to believe him.
The ceremony began, the words washing over me in a blur. I barely heard the officiant, barely registered the weight of the moment.
Until Elijah slid a ring onto my finger, his grip firm, possessive.
"You’re mine now," he murmured, just for me to hear.
A shiver ran down my spine, but I met his gaze head-on. "We’ll see about that."
The corner of his mouth lifted in the faintest smirk, as if he enjoyed the fight in me.
I wasn’t going to let him win.
As the ceremony concluded, Elijah took my hand, leading me through the crowd. The guests blurred together—powerful men and women, allies, enemies. Every one of them watched us, their expressions a mix of intrigue and calculation.
We reached the grand staircase, but before we could ascend, a voice cut through the hum of conversation.
"Elijah."
We both turned. A man stood at the edge of the crowd, his expression unreadable. But I knew that name. I had seen it in the book.
Lorenzo Bianchi.
Elijah’s grip on my hand tightened ever so slightly, a flicker of tension rippling through his body.
"I wasn’t expecting you," Elijah said smoothly, but there was an edge to his tone.
Lorenzo’s gaze flicked to me, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "And yet, here I am."
My pulse pounded. This was my chance.
I had to get to him.
Elijah’s fingers brushed against mine, his touch deliberate, a silent warning.
But I wasn’t about to back down.
This wedding might have been his game.
But I was about to change the rules.
Lorenzo Bianchi.
The name echoed in my mind like a war drum. This was the opportunity I had been waiting for, the key to unraveling Elijah’s control. But one wrong move could cost me everything.
Elijah’s grip on my hand remained firm, but I felt the subtle shift in his posture—he was tense. Alert. For the first time since this whole nightmare began, he wasn’t the one in control.
Lorenzo took a measured step closer, his sharp gaze never leaving mine. “I must say, Elijah, you’ve made an interesting choice.” His voice was smooth, laced with an amusement that only deepened my unease. “She doesn’t look like the type to be tamed.”
A slow, dangerous smile curved Elijah’s lips. “That’s what makes her special.”
I clenched my jaw, hating the way he spoke about me like I was some rare, exotic pet. But I swallowed my anger, knowing I had to play this carefully. Lorenzo was my chance, but if I overplayed my hand, Elijah would see right through me.
Lorenzo’s gaze lingered on me for a beat longer before he turned back to Elijah. “We should talk. Privately.”
Elijah didn’t move. His thumb brushed against the inside of my wrist, a silent command. “Anything you have to say can be said here.”
Lorenzo arched a brow, clearly intrigued by the possessiveness of Elijah’s stance. He exhaled through his nose, then glanced at me again. “Very well. I was going to offer my congratulations on your marriage.”
There was something in his tone—something that told me there was more beneath the surface. A hidden message. An opportunity.
I tilted my chin up, forcing my expression into one of quiet curiosity. “How kind of you,” I murmured, watching his reaction closely.
Lorenzo’s smirk was faint, but there. He knew. He knew I was searching for something.
“Elijah.” A new voice cut through the tension. Another man, older, with silver streaking his dark hair. He had the air of someone powerful, someone who was used to controlling the room. “We have matters to discuss.”
Elijah exhaled slowly, then released my hand. “Stay,” he murmured, low enough that only I could hear.
It wasn’t a request.
Then he turned and strode away, leaving me standing in the center of a ballroom filled with strangers, with Lorenzo Bianchi watching me like he was waiting for me to make my move.
I took a breath, steadying myself. That was it.
I stepped closer, just enough that our conversation wouldn’t be overheard. “You knew I’d be here.”
Lorenzo’s smirk deepened. “I had a feeling. "And now that I’ve seen you up close…” His eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite place. “I think we might have a common enemy.”
My pulse raced. “Can you get me out?”
His expression remained unreadable. “That depends, cara. What are you willing to trade?”
Everything. I was willing to trade everything to escape Elijah’s grip.
But I couldn’t let Lorenzo know just how desperate I was. Not yet.
I lifted my chin, forcing steel into my voice. “That depends. What are you offering?”
Lorenzo chuckled softly as if entertained by my defiance. “Clever girl.” He took a slow sip from his glass, then leaned in just enough for his next words to be a whisper against my ear.
“I hope you’re ready to betray your husband.”
- Writer
