Chapter 4: The Golden Cage
1326 Words
The ride to my apartment was silent and tense. Dante kept his eyes on the road while I stared at the diamond ring that now felt like a shackle on my finger.
"We're here," Dante announced, pulling up to my shabby building. "I'll wait in the car."
"I might be a while," I said, not wanting to rush through packing up my life.
Dante's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "Take your time, Mrs. Vitale. I've got nowhere else to be."
Mrs. Vitale. The name made my skin crawl. If my father ever found out I had married into the Vitale family, he would hunt me down himself.
My tiny apartment looked even smaller when I thought about where I was going. I grabbed my largest suitcase from under the bed and started throwing in clothes, not caring if they wrinkled. What did it matter? According to Alessio, I'd have a stylist now.
As I packed my toiletries, I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror. The woman staring back looked terrified.
"You can do this," I whispered to my reflection. "One year. Just one year, and you'll be free."
But would I? Something about Alessio Vitale's dark eyes told me he wasn't a man who easily let things go.
I shoved a few framed photos into my bag—nothing that showed my real family, just pictures with Maya and other friends I'd made as Sofia Russo. My entire fake life packed into one suitcase.
When I returned to the car, Dante was on the phone, speaking in rapid Italian. He quickly ended the call when he saw me.
"Ready for your new life?" he asked with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied, sliding into the backseat with my suitcase.
Dante drove us through Manhattan, the buildings growing taller and more elegant as we approached Central Park. Finally, we pulled up to a sleek high-rise with a uniformed doorman.
"Welcome to your new home," Dante said, opening my door.
The doorman rushed forward. "Mrs. Vitale! Welcome. We've been expecting you."
My heart skipped. How many people already knew about this fake marriage?
The doorman escorted us to a private elevator that required a keycard. Dante handed me a small black card with my name embossed on it.
"This will get you anywhere in the building," he explained. "The penthouse, gym, spa, private garage."
The elevator shot upward smoothly, my stomach dropping with each floor we passed. When the doors finally opened, I stepped directly into an apartment that looked like something from a magazine.
Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased Central Park and the city skyline. Modern furniture in cool grays and blues gave the space a calm, sophisticated feel. Fresh flowers sat in crystal vases on every surface.
"This is..." I couldn't find the words.
"Home sweet home," Dante finished for me. "Let me show you around while we wait for Alessio."
The penthouse was massive. A gourmet kitchen I'd probably never use. A dining room that could seat twelve. A living room with a fireplace and the biggest TV I'd ever seen.
"Your rooms are this way," Dante said, leading me down a hallway.
My rooms. Plural. I stepped into what looked like a hotel suite—a sitting room connected to a spacious bedroom with its own bathroom.
"Alessio's rooms are on the other side of the penthouse," Dante explained. "As specified in your contract."
I nodded, relieved at the distance between us.
"The stylist will be here in an hour," Dante continued. "I'll leave you to get settled."
After he left, I sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, running my hand over the silky comforter. Everything in this place probably cost more than my gallery made in a year.
I started unpacking, hanging my modest clothes in the walk-in closet that was bigger than my old bathroom. My things looked shabby and out of place here.
A soft knock at my door startled me. I opened it to find a young woman with a trendy haircut and multiple shopping bags.
"Mrs. Vitale? I'm Chloe, your stylist. Mr. Vitale asked me to help you prepare for tonight's event."
"Of course he did," I muttered, stepping aside to let her in.
Chloe emptied the bags onto my bed—dresses, shoes, jewelry, makeup, all with designer labels I'd only seen in magazines.
"Mr. Vitale was very specific about what he wanted," she said, holding up a midnight blue gown that looked like it was made of liquid silk.
"I bet he was," I replied, running my fingers over the smooth fabric. Even in my old life as a crime boss's daughter, I'd never worn anything this expensive.
Chloe worked quickly, doing my hair and makeup while chattering about the charity gala we would be attending. Apparently, it was one of the most exclusive events of the season.
"Everyone who's anyone will be there," she said, pinning my hair into an elegant updo. "And they'll all be watching you."
Great. Just what I needed—more attention.
When she finished, I barely recognized myself in the mirror. The woman staring back looked sophisticated, elegant, worthy of being on a billionaire's arm.
"Perfect," Chloe declared. "Mr. Vitale will be pleased."
As if summoned by his name, I heard the elevator doors open and the sound of footsteps in the hallway.
"Sofia?" Alessio's deep voice called out.
"I'm in here," I answered, my heart suddenly racing.
Chloe gathered her things quickly. "I'll see myself out. Good luck tonight, Mrs. Vitale."
When she opened the door, Alessio stood on the other side. He'd changed into a black tuxedo that made him look even more imposing. His eyes widened slightly when he saw me.
"You look..." he paused, his gaze sweeping over me. "Acceptable."
Just acceptable? After three hours of Chloe's work?
"You don't clean up so bad yourself," I replied, trying to sound casual despite my nerves.
"The car will be here in twenty minutes." He stepped closer, holding out a velvet box. "You'll need these tonight."
Inside the box was a diamond necklace and matching earrings that had to be worth millions.
"I can't wear these," I protested.
"You can and you will," he said firmly. "My wife would never wear costume jewelry to an event like this."
His wife. The words sent a chill down my spine.
He took the necklace from the box and moved behind me. "Hold up your hair."
I did as he asked, trying not to flinch when his fingers brushed against my skin as he fastened the clasp. His touch was surprisingly gentle for a man who radiated such cold power.
"There," he said, his breath warm against my neck. "Now you look like a Vitale."
I turned to face him, suddenly aware of how close we were standing. "Is that what this is all about? Making me look like I belong to you?"
Something dark flashed in his eyes. "For the next year, Sofia, you do belong to me. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."
Before I could respond, his phone rang. He checked the screen and frowned.
"I need to take this. Be ready to leave in fifteen minutes." He turned and strode out of the room, already speaking rapid Italian into the phone.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, the diamonds at my throat glittering like ice. What had I gotten myself into? And why did I feel like Alessio Vitale knew exactly who I was running from?
The necklace suddenly felt too heavy, too tight, like a collar. I touched it gently, wondering if I could survive a year in this golden cage with a man who might be using me for more than just appearances.
Because one thing was becoming clear—Alessio Vitale had secrets, and I was terrified that one of them might be my real identity.
- Writer
