Chapter 2: House Rules
1740 Words
I didn’t sleep.
I paced. The penthouse was a cage made of glass and sin. 80 floors up, Manhattan spread below like a circuit board. I used to hack those lights for fun. Now I was trapped in one.
Dante Moretti hadn’t come back to the bedroom.
Good. I didn’t want him to.
I wanted him to leave me alone so I could find a way out. There had to be one. Vents. Service elevators. The WiFi password. I’d hacked the Pentagon at 16. I could hack a marriage.
My phone was gone. Laptop gone. But my brain wasn’t. I started mapping exits.
Door: 2 guards, armed. Windows: Bulletproof, don’t open. Bathroom: Vent too small. Kitchen: Knives.
I grabbed one. Chef’s knife. 8 inches. Serrated. I hid it under the mattress.
The door opened at 6:03 AM.
I didn’t flinch. I was sitting on the bed, hands folded, looking blank. Let him think I was broken. Broken girls get underestimated.
It wasn’t Dante.
It was a woman in her 60's. Black dress. Hair in a bun so tight it looked painful. Eyes like a hawk that had seen too many executions.
" Mrs. Moretti ",she said. Her voice was ice over gravel. “I am Concetta. House manager. You will call me Mrs. V.”
“Like hell I will,” I said.
She didn’t blink. “Breakfast is at 7 AM. You will dress. You will eat. You will not embarrass the family.” She set a garment bag on the bed. “Don Sergio chose this for you.”
Don Sergio. Not Dante. His father. The real king.
I unzipped the bag. Red silk. Backless. Slit to the thigh. A collar, not a dress.
“I’m not wearing that,” I said.
“You are," Mrs. V said. “Unless you want your sister’s scholarship revoked. NYU called this morning. Seems her financial aid is... under review.”
The knife under the mattress suddenly felt very real.
“Rosa has nothing to do with this,” I said. My voice shook. I hated that it shook.
“Everyone has something to do with this,” Mrs. V said. “That is what family means. You stole from Don Sergio. Your sister pays the interest.” She walked to the door. “7 AM, Dining room. Do not be late.”
The door locked behind her.
I stared at the dress for 10 minutes. Then I put it on.
Because Rosa was 16. She wanted to be a doctor. She was the only good thing left in my life. And I’d just painted a target on her by breathing.
7:00 AM. Dining Room.
The table was 20 feet long. Mahogany. It could seat 30 people. There were only 3 people at the table.
Don Sergio Moretti at the head. 60s, silver hair, suit that cost more than my life. He looked like Dante in 30 years, if Dante lost his soul.
Dante at his right. Black suit. No tie. Knuckles bruised. He didn’t look at me when I walked in.
And a man at the foot in his 30's. Blond. Smiling. Dead eyes.
“Isabella,” Don Sergio said. “Sit.”
I sat. Across from Dante. As far from him as possible.
“This is Vincent,” Don Sergio said, nodding to the blond. “My nephew. Dante’s cousin. Head of security.”
Vincent smiled wider. “Heard a lot about you. The girl who hacked the Cartel. Took ten million. Had to be taught a lesson.”
“I wasn’t taught anything,” I said. “I was kidnapped.”
“Potato, potahto,” Vincent said. “You’re here now. Family.”
Dante finally looked at me. His eyes were black. Empty. “Eat.”
I looked at my plate. Eggs, Bacon, Fruit. No poison I could detect. Not that I’d know.
“I’m not hungry,” I said.
Don Sergio set his fork down. The sound was loud in the silence. “In this house, we eat together. We pray together. We bleed together. You are Moretti now. Act like it.”
“I’m not a Moretti,” I said. “I’m a Cruz. And I don’t pray to men who buy wives.”
Vincent chuckled. Dante went still. Don Sergio’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Dante,” he said softly. “Your wife needs reminding of her place.”
Dante stood. Walked around the table. Each step was a countdown.
I stood too. I wasn’t going to take it sitting down. Literally.
He stopped in front of me. Too close. I could smell him. Soap, Gunpowder, Sin.
“Sit down, Isabella,” he said. Quiet. Dangerous.
“No.”
His hand shot out. Not to hit me. To grab my chin. Forced me to look at him. His thumb was rough. Calloused.
“You have 2 choices,” he said. “You eat. You live. Rosa stays in NYU. Or you don’t. And I make a call.”
The knife was upstairs. Too far.
I sat.
I ate.
Every bite tasted like ash.
“Good girl,” Don Sergio said. “See, Dante? She learns fast.”
Dante didn’t answer. He went back to his seat. Didn’t eat,Just watching me.
Like I was a problem he hadn’t solved yet.
9:00 AM. Library.
I was locked in. Again. But this time with books and a computer.
No internet. But local access.
Amateur hour.
Mrs. V left me there “to acclimate.” As if I was a dog.
I was at the keyboard in 2 seconds. Bypassed the local admin in 10. They’d tried to lock me out with a 4-digit PIN. I was insulted.
No WiFi. No Ethernet. But the computer was on the house intranet. I could see the security feeds.
Kitchen, Garage. Front door.
Bedroom.
My bedroom. Camera in the corner, behind the mirror.
They were watching me sleep.
I slammed the laptop shut.
The door opened. Dante.
“Looking for something?” he said.
“Privacy,” I snapped. “Do you watch me shower too, or just sleep?”
“I don’t watch,” he said. “Vincent does. I told him to turn it off. He didn’t.”
“Charming family.”
“You’re one of us now.”
“I’m not.”
He walked to me. Slow. Like I was a bomb. “You stole ten million. You knew who I was. You did it anyway. Why?”
“Because I can,” I said. “Because your firewall was a joke. Because you think money makes you untouchable. I wanted to prove you wrong.”
“You did,” he said. “And now you’re touched. By me. Every day. For the rest of your life.”
“You can’t keep me here forever.”
“Watch me.”
He was close again. I backed up. Hit the desk. Trapped.
“Rosa,” I said. “Promise me she’s safe. Swear it. Or I’ll burn your house down with me in it.”
He studied me. “She’s safe. As long as you behave. She graduates. She goes to med school. She never knows what you did. That’s my vow.”
“Why?” I whispered. “Why protect her? You don’t know her.”
“Because you love her,” he said. “And I own everything you love now. It’s leverage.”
He leaned in. I thought he’d kiss me. I turned my head. His lips brushed my cheek. My jaw. Not a kiss. A claim.
“You’ll wear my ring,” he breathed against my skin. “You’ll bear my name. You’ll sleep in my bed. And someday, you’ll beg me for it.”
“Never,” I said. But my voice broke.
“We’ll see,” he said. He pulled back. “Dinner is at 8. Wear blue. My mother’s color. Don Sergio likes tradition.”
He left.
I opened the laptop. Pulled up security feeds. Found the garage. The guards. The rotation.
I was getting out.
And I was taking Rosa with me.
11:47 PM. Bedroom.
I had a plan.
Mrs. V did bed check at 11. Guards changed at midnight. 13 minutes of overlap when the hall was empty.
I was in black. Knife in my boot. Hair up. I’d picked the lock with a bobby pin.
I opened the door.
Dante was leaning against the wall. Arms crossed. Waiting.
“Going somewhere?” he said.
My heart stopped. Then restarted. Faster.
“How”
“Cameras,” he said. “The ones you didn’t find. I have them too.”
He pushed off the wall. Walked to me. I backed into the room. He followed. Kicked the door shut.
“Rosa,” I said. “If you touch her”
“I won’t,” he said. “But you just did. You ran. You broke the rules. There are consequences.”
He backed me to the bed. My knees hit. I fell. Sitting. He stood over me.
“I can explain”
“Don’t,” he said. “I don’t want lies. I want obedience.”
He knelt. Not to propose. To take my boot. Pulled it off. The knife clattered to the floor.
He picked it up. Tested the edge with his thumb. Blood welled.
“You were going to stab me?” he asked. Curious. Not mad.
“If I had to.”
He smiled. First real smile I’d seen. It was terrifying. “Good. I’d be disappointed if you weren’t dangerous.”
He set the knife on the nightstand. Then he grabbed my face. Both hands. Not hard. Unavoidable.
“You run again,” he said, “I break Rosa’s legs. Not kill. Break. So you can watch her crawl. Understand?”
I understood.
I hated him.
I hated that my eyes watered.
“Good girl,” he whispered.
Then he kissed me.
It wasn’t gentle. It was a punishment. A war. His mouth was hard. Demanding. I bit him. He groaned. Kissed me harder.
I shoved him. He didn’t move. He was a wall. A prison.
He pulled back when he wanted to. Not when I wanted.
“8 AM. Breakfast,” he said. His lip was bleeding. From me. “Wear red. My color.”
He walked out. Left the knife.
A test.
I stared at it until sunrise.
I didn’t sleep.
I didn’t run.
- Writer
