The penthouse felt less like a home and more like a cage lined with glass and gold.
Adrian Moretti led me through it as though he owned not just the space, but the air I breathed. My veil was gone, my gown a burden. I held my shoes in one hand like weapons I didn't know how to wield.
"Your room is through there," he said, nodding toward a hallway. His tone wasn't an invitation. "But first—you'll dine with me."
I wanted to tell him I'd rather starve, but my stomach betrayed me with a twist of hunger. Fear had a way of draining every last drop of strength.
---
The dining room was all marble and shadows, a table set for two under the dim glow of a chandelier. A bottle of wine already waited, two glasses glinting in the light. He pulled out a chair.
"I'm not hungry," I said.
"You will be," he replied, taking the seat opposite me. "Sit."
Against my better judgment, I did. My spine locked straight, my fists tight in my lap. I was Elena Rossi, not a pawn on his chessboard.
He poured the wine, filling my glass first. "To new beginnings."
I stared at the blood-dark liquid. "This isn't a beginning. It's an abduction."
His smile was slight, dangerous. "Words. You'll find they don't matter as much as choices. And you chose to walk with me."
I flushed hot. "I chose to keep Luca alive."
"And that," Adrian said, lifting his glass, "was the first smart decision you've ever made."
---
The first course arrived—not by a servant, but by one of his men. Rafe, scarred and stone-eyed, set down porcelain plates with precise care. Filet of something expensive and delicate. I didn't touch it.
"You said Luca owed you," I began, my voice low. "You said my father—"
Adrian's knife cut through his steak with a soft, final sound. "I said enough for tonight."
"No." I leaned forward, anger beating back fear. "You don't drag me from my wedding, parade me like property, and then decide I don't deserve the truth. Tell me."
He looked up, eyes like winter seas. "If I tell you tonight, you'll break. And broken pieces aren't useful to anyone."
My fork clattered against the plate. "So that's what I am to you? Useful?"
He didn't flinch. "At least I don't lie about it."
---
The silence stretched, broken only by the clink of his glass. I forced myself to eat one bite, if only to prove I wasn't as fragile as he thought. The food tasted like nothing.
When I pushed the plate away, he said, "There are rules."
I glared at him. "Of course there are."
"You stay in the apartment or with me. You don't use the phones unless I give you one. You don't open the front door without Rafe or Leo." His voice was calm, absolute. "And if you want something, you ask."
"And if I don't?"
"Then I'll remind you why the rules exist."
"You think you can scare me."
He leaned forward, his gaze burning through mine. "I don't think. I know. But what I want isn't your fear, Elena. It's your respect."
---
Dessert came—dark chocolate and blood oranges. I didn't touch it.
"Where's Luca?" I demanded.
Adrian's jaw shifted once. "Somewhere he can't hurt you."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you get."
"You mean until I'm obedient."
"Until you're ready to hear it without making a mistake you can't take back."
I pushed back from the table. "Then I'll find out myself."
The chair scraped loud against the marble. I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me cold.
"You think your family came to save you tonight?"
My blood iced. Slowly, I turned back. "What?"
"They were at the building," Adrian said, watching me carefully. "Your father. Your brother. And someone else. They didn't come to rescue you. They came to bargain."
My chest squeezed tight. "You're lying."
"Ask yourself this," Adrian said softly. "Why did your father let me walk you out of that church alive?"
---
The question landed like a blade in my chest. I had no answer.
Adrian rose, circling the table until he stood close enough that I could smell cedar and danger on him. He tilted my chin with one finger, forcing my gaze up to his.
"I'm not your worst enemy, Elena," he said. "Not yet. The people you trust most wear that crown."
I pulled back, breaking the contact, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
But his words clung to me long after the candles burned low, after the city lights bled into dawn.
Because deep down, I feared he was right.