STUDIO AURELIA – LATE MORNING
The scent of turpentine still hung in the air.
Bella was mid-stroke on a canvas, her hand steady, her mind focused, when her phone lit up on the counter.
Lewis De Salvo.
She didn't answer.
It rang twice before going silent.
Exactly one minute later, a message appeared:
We'll be there in thirty. Be ready.
No context. No courtesy.
Just command.
She stared at it for a long moment, fingers tightening around the brush. Then, slowly, she set it down beside the cloudy water jar.
Twenty-eight minutes later, she heard tires crunch over gravel outside.
She didn't move.
Let him come in.
Let him step through the threshold of the life he'd tried to contract.
The studio door creaked open — no knock. No pause. She didn't turn.
But she felt it — a cold shift in the air.
Then—
"You weren't packed."
His voice: colder than she'd imagined. Smooth, clipped. Commanding.
Bella wiped her fingers with a rag, slow and controlled. Still facing the canvas.
"You gave me thirty minutes. That's a timer, not a welcome."
He stepped forward. Each step a calculated sound of leather against old wood.
"I assumed you understood what obedience meant when you signed the agreement."
She turned now.
And met him. Head-on.
This was the first time she'd truly seen him. Not in photos. Not in papers. But real.
Tall. Dark-suited. Ice-sharp. Everything about him precise — from his tailored cuffs to the unnerving calm in his eyes.
"You bought a signature, Mr. De Salvo," she said. "Not a soul."
His face didn't flinch. Neither anger nor amusement. Just that unnerving stillness.
But then—
"Beeeelllaaa!"
The tension shattered like glass.
Leo burst through the door like a whirlwind. His tiny shoes thumped over the floor, one sock halfway off, a bouquet crushed in his hands.
"I bring'd you fwowers!" he declared, beaming, voice high and full of triumph.
Bella's entire posture shifted.
She crouched down just in time to catch him as he threw himself into her arms.
"Little mouse !" she smiled. "These are beautiful."
"I picked 'em all by myself! Daddy say they messy but I say dey happy!" He held them up proudly — tulips, daisies, even a dandelion fluff.
"They are happy," she said softly, tucking one behind his ear. "And so are you."
He nodded furiously. "You look like a pwincess today. Even if your pants got paint."
Bella laughed, her throat catching on it. "Well, even princesses paint."
"Can you come now? We goin' to da castle!"
She blinked. "Castle?"
Leo nodded with great importance. "Elden Hollow. Daddy say dat's our home. I say it's the castle 'cause it got shiny lamps and stairs like dragons!"
Behind them, Lewis remained still. Watching.
Then: "Leo. Car. Now."
The boy's shoulders slumped slightly, but he obeyed.
"Okayyy… but I gonna sit next to Bella. You promise, Daddy. You say it."
"I remember," Lewis said evenly.
Leo looked back at Bella. "I saved you a seat. It's warm!" he added proudly, then skipped away, leaving smudged fingerprints on the door.
When he was gone, silence rushed in again.
Bella straightened, clutching the flowers.
"You speak to him like he's one of your men."
Lewis stepped forward again, that unnerving control barely leashed.
"He knows boundaries. He's safe because of it."
Bella met his eyes without blinking. "That's fear. Not safety."
A beat.
Then:
"You'd do well to know the difference."
He leaned just slightly forward, voice lower.
"And you'd do well to know where you stand. In my world, boundaries are protection."
"I'm not part of your world," she whispered. "I'm here to keep a promise. And to learn the truth."
His eyes narrowed — not in threat, but interest.
"You will," he said.
Another pause.
Then he looked past her. At the unfinished painting.
A woman's eyes.
He said nothing.
Bella picked up her bag — already half-packed beneath the easel — and followed him out.
Not because she had to.
But because she chose to.
And somewhere behind them, Leo waited — in a car seat he called a throne — with a crumpled juice box and a smile that could melt steel.