The morning sun crept through velvet curtains, but it brought no warmth to the Rossi mansion. I woke in a bed too large for one person, sheets untouched on the other side. He hadn't returned during the night.
Part of me was relieved. Part of me wondered why.
I rose, dressed in the silk gown laid out for me, and stepped into the corridor. The house was vast, echoing with silence. Every wall seemed to whisper of power and secrets, as though the mansion itself belonged more to Adrian than to anyone else.
At the bottom of the staircase, I found him. Adrian stood by the tall windows of his study, a glass of whiskey in one hand, even though it was barely eight in the morning. His back was to me, broad and commanding beneath his black shirt.
"You're awake," he said without turning.
I hesitated at the threshold. "I… didn't know where I was allowed to go."
That earned me a faint smirk as he turned to face me. "Allowed? Isabella, this is your home now. Go wherever you like. Just don't mistake freedom for safety."
A chill ran through me. "What does that mean?"
"It means not every door should be opened. Not every secret should be uncovered." His gaze was sharp, but there was something else behind it—something I couldn't quite read.
I should have been afraid. I should have left. But instead, I asked the question burning in my chest. "Why me? Out of all the women in the world, why make me your wife?"
For a moment, his expression hardened, and I thought he would dismiss me. Then, unexpectedly, he set the glass down and walked toward me.
"You were never the choice," he said softly. "You were the consequence."
My heart stuttered. Consequence. The word cut deeper than I expected.
"But that doesn't mean I don't see you, Isabella." His hand lifted, brushing against my jaw with startling gentleness. His eyes, dark and endless, locked onto mine. "You are stronger than they know. Stronger than even you know."
I froze, caught between wanting to recoil and wanting to lean into his touch. The mafia heir, the man who claimed me like property, was looking at me as though I were something rare. Precious.
And it terrified me.
Before I could answer, the heavy doors of the study burst open. A man stumbled inside, bruised and bleeding, dragged by two guards. My breath caught as they shoved him to his knees before Adrian.
"Boss," one of the guards said, "he was caught leaking information to the DeLuca family."
The DeLuca family. Even I had heard of them—rivals, enemies, merciless.
Adrian's entire demeanor shifted. The gentleness vanished, replaced by cold, ruthless power. He crouched before the traitor, voice low and lethal. "You betrayed me."
The man begged, words tumbling out, but Adrian silenced him with a single look. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. His authority was absolute.
"Take him away," Adrian ordered at last. "Make sure the DeLucas understand what loyalty means in this house."
The guards dragged the man out, his screams echoing down the hall.
I stood frozen, my pulse hammering. I had just glimpsed the two faces of my husband—the man who could cradle my cheek with tenderness, and the mafia boss who could order death with a calm voice.
And for the first time, I realized the truth: Adrian Rossi wasn't just a cage. He was a storm. A storm that could either destroy me…or make me stronger than I had ever been.
As he turned back to me, his eyes softened once more, as though nothing had happened. "Breakfast is served," he said, offering me his hand.
I stared at it, torn between horror and fascination. Then, slowly, I placed my hand in his.
Because I wanted to know what lay behind the mask.