The first morning in the gilded cage felt like waking up in a dream, a beautiful and suffocating dream. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, lighting up dust motes drifting in the air like tiny, captive stars. I had slept poorly, haunted by images of scarred faces and the sense of being watched.
I found Aria in the suite's shared living area, a stylish and minimalist space connecting our two bedrooms. She was already dressed, munching on a croissant and scrolling through her new Dante-issued phone with a resigned look.
"Morning," she mumbled without looking up. "Elara brought breakfast. She said to let her know if you wanted anything else. An omelet, fresh fruit, the tears of a lesser CEO. Her range is apparently quite extensive."
Her attempt at humor fell flat in the tense silence. I poured myself coffee from the silver carafe; the liquid was dark and strong. "How can you be so calm about this?" I asked, gesturing around the luxurious prison. "Our lives have been taken over."
Aria finally looked up, her expression tired. "This isn't new to me, Bella. It's just a more extreme version of the life I've always lived. There have always been rules. Places I couldn't go, people I couldn't talk to. You were the only part of my life that felt free from his control. Now, you're just inside the fortress with me."
Her words, meant to comfort, did the opposite. They emphasized how completely he controlled our lives.
"So, what now?" I asked, sinking into a chair opposite her. "Do we just sit here? Are we supposed to continue our studies from a penthouse tower?"
"Dante is arranging remote access to lectures for us," she said. "Our final year internships are about to start in a few weeks. He said he's taking care of it."
"Taking care of it?" I scoffed. "I know what that means. He'll place us in some cushy, meaningless job at Moretti Enterprises so he can keep an eye on us."
"Probably," Aria agreed with a sigh. "Look, I know it's not ideal…"
"It's not 'ideal'?" I interrupted, my voice rising. "Aria, I've worked my whole life for this. I clawed my way into one of the top law programs in Europe. I was set to intern at Alistair & Finch, the most prestigious human rights law firm in the country. I'm not throwing that away to become a glorified corporate drone in your brother's soulless empire."
The memory of my acceptance letter, the result of years of hard work and sacrifice, left a bitter taste in my mouth. It represented everything I stood for: justice, fighting for the underdog, holding powerful men like Dante Moretti accountable. Working for him would be the ultimate betrayal of my principles.
"Just talk to him," Aria suggested softly. "Don't fight him. Reason with him."
The thought of trying to reason with Dante was almost funny. He didn't seem like a guy who engaged in reasonable debate; he issued commands.
Later that day, I found him in his office. It was a cavernous room lined with books, not just on business and finance but on military history, philosophy, and art. It was both a scholar's and a CEO's room. He was on the phone, his back to me, speaking rapid, fluent Russian. The language was harsh, his tone clipped and lethal. He was giving orders, and it sounded like the person on the other end was terrified.
He finished the call and turned, his green eyes finding me instantly in the doorway. He didn't seem surprised.
"Miss Rossi," he said, his voice switching back to smooth, deep English. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"My internship," I said, marching into the room and planting my hands on his large mahogany desk. It was a futile gesture of defiance, but it was all I had. "I will not be interning at Moretti Enterprises."
He steepled his fingers, watching me with that unsettling, analytical gaze. "And where, then, do you propose to work?"
"Alistair & Finch. My placement was already secured. It's a human rights firm. They are as far removed from your world as it's possible to get. I'll be safe there."
"You believe a firm that specializes in suing powerful, corrupt individuals is a safe place for someone in your position?" he countered, one eyebrow arched in amusement. "The irony is remarkable."
"They are a respected, public-facing institution. It's not some shady back-alley operation. No one would dare touch me there."
"You are dangerously naive," he said, the amusement gone, replaced by a cold edge. "My enemies do not care about public perception. They care about leverage. But," he paused, leaning back in his chair, "I will consider it."
I was stunned. I had expected a flat refusal, a battle of wills. His easy concession was more disarming than an argument would have been.
"On one condition," he added, and I felt the other shoe dropping. "You will have a security detail. Non-negotiable. Two men, Leo's best. They will be discreet, but they will be with you at all times. From the moment you leave this building to the moment you return. Those are the terms."
It was still a cage, just a larger one. But it was also a chance to reclaim part of my life, to stay on my chosen path. It was a compromise, and for a man like Dante Moretti, a compromise felt like a monumental victory.
"Fine," I agreed, trying to keep the relief out of my voice.
"Good," he said, turning his attention to the computer screen on his desk, a clear dismissal.
I left his office feeling a weird mix of triumph and unease. I had gotten what I wanted, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just played a game with a grandmaster who let me win the opening move for reasons I couldn't yet understand.
Later that evening, Aria and I were in the living area, trying to have a normal night by watching a movie on the ridiculously large screen. Dante came out of his office, having shed his suit jacket and tie. He wore a simple black Henley that clung to his broad shoulders and chest, and for the first time, I saw him not as a CEO but as a man. A very large, very intimidating man.
He didn't join us but went to the kitchen area to pour himself a drink. Aria, sensing a rare opportunity, paused the movie.
"Dante," she said, her voice soft. "Come sit with us for a bit."
He looked over, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought he would refuse. But then he nodded slightly and walked over, taking a seat in an armchair at a careful distance from the sofa we shared.
The change in Aria was instant. She lit up, the tension leaving her shoulders. She started telling him about a professor she liked, a funny incident from class. He listened intently, his focus entirely on her. He didn't say much, but he asked quiet questions here and there, a small smile occasionally touching his lips.
In those moments, I saw him. Not the devil. Not the ruthless billionaire or the underground lord. I saw the man Aria had described. The protective older brother. I saw a different kind of monster—one shaped by love and loss, a creature of profound loneliness who had built an empire to protect the only person he had left in the world. It was deeply unsettling and profoundly humanizing.
For a fleeting moment, as he laughed softly at one of Aria's jokes, his green eyes met mine over her head. The coldness was gone, replaced by something warm and unguarded. My heart gave a strange, unexpected flutter. I realized, with a terrifying jolt, that the most dangerous part of this gilded cage wasn't the bars but the man who held the key.