The room Dominic had chosen for her was a contradiction—luxurious enough to house royalty, yet positioned like a cell.
Elara stood in the doorway, taking in the king-sized bed draped in silk, the antique furniture that probably belonged in a museum, and the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of Lake Michigan. It was beautiful. It was also directly adjacent to what she assumed was Dominic's bedroom, with a connecting door that had no lock on her side.
A beautiful cage, she thought, stepping inside and hearing the soft click of the main door closing behind her. Just like he promised.
Mrs. Chen had left without a word, but not before pointing out the wardrobe filled with clothes that fit her perfectly—too perfectly.
Elara moved to the windows, pressing her palm against the cool glass. Three stories down, manicured gardens stretched toward the lake, where a private dock held a yacht that probably cost more than most people would see in a lifetime. Security cameras were positioned at regular intervals, their red lights blinking like watching eyes.
She was trapped in paradise.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. "Come in," she called, expecting Mrs. Chen with more instructions.
Instead, Luca stepped through the door, carrying a tray with what looked like coffee and pastries.
"I thought you might be hungry," he said, setting the tray on the small table by the window. "You didn't eat anything on the ride here."
"Thank you." She studied his face, looking for the calculation she'd seen in Dominic's eyes. Instead, she found genuine concern. She hesitated, surprised by the unexpected kindness. "That's kind of you."
"Don't sound so surprised." His smile was rueful. "We're not all monsters."
Aren't you? she wanted to ask. But instead, she accepted the coffee he offered, noting how he was careful not to touch her fingers when he handed her the cup.
"Tell me about this place," she said, settling into one of the plush chairs. Her gaze swept across the opulent room before meeting his eyes. "It's impressive."
"It's been in our family for three generations." Luca leaned against the window frame, his gaze following hers to the gardens below. "Our grandfather built it after he came to America. Said he wanted something that would last, something that couldn't be taken away."
"Ironic, considering your family business involves taking things away from other people."
The words slipped out before she could stop them. Luca's expression shifted, becoming more guarded.
"You're not wrong," he said quietly. "But it's more complicated than that."
"Is it?" Elara set down her coffee, meeting his gaze directly. "Because from where I'm sitting, it seems pretty straightforward. Your brother owns me now because my father couldn't pay his debts."
"Dominic doesn't own you."
"He seems to think he does."
Luca was silent for a long moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was careful. "My brother... he's not as heartless as he pretends to be. But he's also not someone you want to cross."
"Is that a warning?"
"It's advice." He pushed away from the window. "Play by his rules, at least for now. Let him think he's won. Trust me, it's safer that way."
After he left, Elara finished her coffee and decided to explore. If she was going to be trapped here, she might as well understand the extent of her prison.
The mansion was a masterpiece of architecture and intimidation. Every hallway was wider than her old apartment, every room filled with art that belonged in galleries. But it was the details that told the real story—the reinforced windows, the keypad locks on certain doors, the way every exit was positioned within view of security cameras.
She found the library first, a two-story room with shelves that reached the ceiling and leather chairs positioned near a fireplace large enough to stand in. The books were real, not just decoration, and many were in Italian. Family photographs lined one wall, stern-faced men in expensive suits, all bearing the unmistakable Moretti features.
The kitchen was next, a gleaming expanse of marble and stainless steel that could have serviced a restaurant. Mrs. Chen was there, directing a small army of staff who moved with the quiet efficiency of people who knew better than to draw attention to themselves.
"Can I help you with something, Miss Cruz?" Mrs. Chen asked, her tone perfectly neutral.
"Just exploring," Elara replied. "This is quite a place."
"Indeed. Mr. Moretti takes great pride in maintaining it properly." The housekeeper's eyes flicked to one of the security cameras. "Perhaps you'd like to see the gardens? The morning light is particularly lovely this time of year."
The suggestion felt more like direction, so Elara nodded and followed Mrs. Chen through a pair of French doors onto a stone terrace that overlooked the grounds.
The gardens were magnificent—perfectly maintained lawns, flower beds arranged in intricate patterns, walking paths that meandered toward the lake. It was the kind of beauty that took her breath away and made her forget, for just a moment, that she was a prisoner.
"It's beautiful," she said, and meant it.
"Mr. Moretti's mother designed them," Mrs. Chen said softly. "Before she passed. He's maintained them exactly as she left them."
The revelation surprised her. She'd imagined Dominic emerging fully formed from some shadowy underworld, not as a man who preserved his mother's garden out of sentiment.
"She had good taste."
"She did indeed." Mrs. Chen glanced at her watch. "Dinner is at eight, as Mr. Moretti mentioned. I've taken the liberty of selecting an appropriate dress for the occasion. It's hanging in your closet."
As the housekeeper disappeared back into the house, Elara remained on the terrace, absorbing the reality of her situation. The mansion was beautiful, luxurious, and completely secure. Every comfort had been provided, every detail attended to.
But the gardens were surrounded by an eight-foot wall topped with decorative iron spikes. The gates were manned by guards who nodded respectfully but never stopped watching. And no matter which direction she looked, she could see the red blink of security cameras tracking her movements.
She was living in the kind of place little girls dream of, but not as a prisoner in silk.
Perfect, she thought, a smile playing at her lips. Let him think I'm trapped. Let him think he's won.
Because while Dominic saw a cage, Elara saw opportunity. She was inside his fortress now, behind all his defenses, with access to his world and his secrets.
Her uncle had been right about one thing—the best way to destroy an enemy was from the inside.
She just hadn't expected the cage to be quite so... seductive.
As she turned to go back inside, she caught sight of a figure watching her from an upstairs window. Dominic, silhouetted against the glass, perfectly still as he observed her exploration of his domain.
Their eyes met across the distance, and even from three stories up, she could feel the intensity of his gaze. He raised his hand, not a wave, but an acknowledgment. A reminder.
I see you, the gesture said. I'm always watching.
Elara lifted her chin and smiled, giving him a small wave in return.
*****
But first, she had dinner to survive.
At seven-thirty, Elara stood before the full-length mirror in her room, studying the dress Mrs. Chen had chosen. It was midnight blue silk that hugged her curves in all the right places, with a neckline that was elegant rather than revealing. The kind of dress that whispered rather than shouted, but somehow managed to be more dangerous for its subtlety.
She'd found jewelry in the dresser drawer - a delicate diamond necklace and matching earrings that probably cost more than her father's house. Everything had been planned, calculated, designed to present her exactly as Dominic wanted her to appear.
*The perfect captive,* she thought, fastening the necklace. *Beautiful, compliant, grateful for the luxury of her cage.*
At exactly eight o'clock, she made her way downstairs to the dining room Mrs. Chen had directed her to earlier. The room was another study in intimidation - a table that could seat twenty, crystal glasses that caught the light from an enormous chandelier, and place settings that looked like they belonged in a palace.
Dominic was already there, standing by the windows with a glass of wine in his hand. He'd changed from his earlier suit into something even more expensive, if that was possible, and when he turned to look at her, his eyes swept over her with undisguised appreciation.
"Perfect," he said, and the single word sent heat spiraling through her despite herself. "You clean up well."
"Thank you," she replied, accepting the glass of wine he offered. Their fingers brushed as he handed it to her, and she noticed he didn't let go immediately.
"Red suits you," he said, though the dress was blue. It took her a moment to realize he was talking about the wine.
"Where's Luca?" she asked, noting the third place setting.
"He'll be along." Dominic pulled out her chair for her, a gesture that would have been gentlemanly if not for the possessive way his hand lingered on her shoulder as she sat.
As if summoned by his words, Luca appeared in the doorway. He'd also changed clothes, and the sight of him in a tailored suit sent an unexpected flutter through her chest. Where Dominic looked like a predator dressed for hunting, Luca looked like a prince who'd rather be anywhere else.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, taking his seat across from her. His eyes met hers briefly, and she saw something there - maybe an apology for what was to come.
The meal that followed was a masterclass in psychological warfare disguised as polite conversation. Dominic asked about her education, her interests, her dreams - all while making it clear that none of it mattered now. She was his, and her old life was as dead as if she'd been buried with it.
"Tell me," he said over the main course, "what did you think you'd be doing with your life? Before all this, I mean."
"I was studying literature," she said carefully. "I wanted to be a teacher."
"Past tense," he noted with satisfaction. "Good. It's important to let go of impossible dreams."
"Dom," Luca's voice carried a warning.
"What? I'm simply helping her adjust to reality." Dominic's smile was sharp. "She's part of our world now. Acceptance makes everything easier."
"And what exactly does being part of your world entail?" Elara asked, meeting his gaze directly.
"Whatever I decide it entails," he replied smoothly. "But don't worry. I take very good care of my possessions."
The word 'possessions' hung in the air like a slap. But instead of the fear or anger he was probably expecting, Elara felt something else entirely. A dark thrill that she absolutely should not be feeling.
"How generous of you," she said quietly.
Something flickered in his eyes - surprise, maybe, or recognition that she wasn't as broken as he'd assumed. The silence stretched between them, charged with an energy that made her skin prickle.
"You're not what I expected," he said finally.
"What did you expect?"
"Tears. Begging. The usual theatrics." His head tilted as he studied her. "Most people in your situation would be planning their escape by now."
"Maybe I'm not most people."
"No," he agreed, his voice dropping to something darker, more intimate. "You're definitely not."
Across the table, Luca cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should talk about something else."
As the evening wound down and she was finally dismissed to her room, Elara caught Luca's eye one last time. The concern there was unmistakable, as was something else. Something that looked dangerously like attraction.
*Perfect,* she thought as she climbed the stairs, both brothers are interested.