My breath caught in my throat. His words, "You do not have a choice," echoed in the empty silence of the penthouse. They were the most terrifying words I had ever heard. Looking into the hard flint of his green eyes, I knew he meant them. Every bit of my independence and stubborn will rose up to fight.
"The hell I don't," I shot back, getting up from the sofa to face him. We stood only a few feet apart, with a gap of wealth, power, and circumstance between us. "You can't just decide to ruin my life because it suits your paranoid agenda, Moretti. I am a person, not a possession."
"Bella, please," Aria pleaded, tugging on my sleeve. "Just listen to him. For once."
"Listen to him? He's talking about locking us up!"
Dante watched my outburst with an unsettling calm, as if he were observing a predictable chemical reaction. He didn't argue or raise his voice. Instead, he simply lifted his hand and gestured to the empty doorway.
Leo reappeared, holding a slim, dark tablet. Dante took it from him with efficient movements. He tapped the screen a few times before turning it to face me.
My angry retort died on my lips.
It was security footage, timestamped just forty minutes ago. It showed the street outside my apartment building, featuring the familiar brick facade and the little bakery on the corner. A low, sleek black car with tinted windows was parked across the street. It looked like a predator hiding in plain sight. The footage zoomed in on the driver's side window, which was cracked open. For a split second, a man's face became visible—his features hard and scarred, his eyes scanning the entrance to our building with cold, professional intent.
"Do you recognize him?" Dante asked quietly.
I shook my head, my mouth dry.
"His name is Anton Volkov. He is the lead enforcer for Marco Valerius," Dante explained, his gaze fixed on my face. "Valerius is one of my main rivals. He is also the man I suspect of arranging my 'accident'. The fact that his top enforcer is watching your apartment is no coincidence. It's a declaration."
He switched off the tablet, and the image disappeared, but it was etched in my mind. The danger was no longer an abstract idea, a shadow Aria had mentioned. It was real. It had a name and a face. It had been waiting right outside my door. The fight was no longer about challenging Dante; it was about survival.
My strength faded, and I sank back onto the sofa, defeated. I hated him for being right. I hated the fear curling in my stomach, cold and sharp. Most of all, I hated the sudden, terrifying realization that I was completely dependent on this man for my safety.
Seeing my submission, Dante's expression softened just slightly. He turned to Aria. "Go get some rest. I'll have Elara show you both to your rooms."
An elderly woman with kind, crinkling eyes and a gentle smile appeared as if on cue. Her hair was a soft cloud of white, and she wore a simple, clean uniform. Her warm presence contrasted sharply with the coldness of the penthouse.
"Aria, my dear," she said, her voice like warm honey. "It's so good to have you home." She embraced Aria in a hug that felt familiar and cherished. This was Elara, the housekeeper Dante had mentioned.
"It's great to see you too, Elara," Aria replied, a genuine smile finally illuminating her eyes. She turned to me. "This is Isabella," she said.
Elara's warm gaze landed on me. "The brave young woman who saved our Dante. Welcome, child. We are all very grateful to you."
I could only manage a weak nod, unsure of what to say. Our Dante. She spoke of him like he was a beloved son, not a feared corporate tyrant. It was another confusing piece of the puzzle that was Dante Moretti.
"Come," Elara said, gesturing for us to follow. "We have prepared the west wing suites for you. You will have plenty of space."
I followed her and Aria down a long, white corridor that felt more like an art gallery than a hallway. The walls were lined with priceless, minimalist paintings. Elara opened a door for Aria first, revealing a beautiful room decorated in soft creams and blues. She then led me to the next door.
My room was even larger. It was really a suite, with a king-sized bed, a sitting area, and a wall of glass that offered a breathtaking, terrifying view of the city. I noted with a twinge of anxiety that a connecting door led directly to Aria's room. On the bed, I saw a neat stack of my own clothes, my textbooks, and my laptop. My entire life, or what was left of it, had been packed and delivered to my new prison.
"If you need anything at all, just let me know," Elara said softly before quietly closing the door, leaving me alone.
I walked over to the huge window, pressing my hand against the cool, thick glass. The city lights sparkled below, a vibrant, sprawling galaxy of lives I was no longer a part of. I felt like I was in a tower, the proverbial princess locked away, but my captor was no prince. He was the dragon.
"The view is supposed to be calming."
I jumped and spun around. Dante stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. I hadn't even heard him come in.
"It's a long way down," I replied flatly.
He ignored my grim tone. "There are some rules," he said, stepping into the room. His presence seemed to make the space shrink, charging the air with tension.
"Let me guess," I said, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. "No leaving. No visitors. No contact with the outside world that you don't approve of."
"Exactly," he confirmed without a trace of irony. "You'll get a new phone. Secure line. Your current one is a liability. Your laptop will be firewalled into my private network. For your safety, all communications will be monitored."
The rage that had momentarily been subdued by fear surged back. "You're going to read my messages? My emails? You have no right!"
"I have every right," he countered, his voice low, a velvet-wrapped threat. "The debt I owe you is for your life. I cannot repay that if you are dead. Your safety is now my main priority, and your privacy is a distant second. You will accept this, Miss Rossi, or I will take those devices away completely."
We stared at each other, locked in a silent standoff. His handsome face was unreadable, but his green eyes burned with an intensity that left me exposed. He was arrogant, domineering, and entirely unreasonable. Yet beneath that cold logic, I caught another glimpse of fierce, desperate protectiveness, the same look he had for Aria. Was it possible he saw me as a similar responsibility? Not just a debt, but a life he felt obligated to protect?
The thought was as terrifying as it was compelling.
"This isn't protection," I finally whispered, my voice trembling with emotion. "It's possession."
He took a step closer, his scent—a clean, expensive blend of sandalwood and citrus—filling my senses. "For now," he said in a gravelly murmur that sent a shiver through me, "let's just call it a necessary evil."
Then he turned and left, leaving me alone in the silent, opulent cage. I looked around at the beautiful furniture, the priceless art, and the incredible view. I had been given everything a person could want, except for the one thing I valued most: my freedom.