The mansion wasn't what I expected.
I'd imagined something dark and menacing crumbling stone walls, barred windows, the kind of place where girls disappeared and nobody asked questions. A prison disguised as a home.
Instead, Dante's estate was breathtaking.
We'd driven for forty minutes outside the city, through gates that opened automatically, up a long driveway lined with perfectly manicured trees. The mansion itself was modern and massive all glass and white stone, lit from within like a jewel box.
It looked like something from a magazine. A dream home.
Which somehow made it more terrifying.
"Welcome home, Isabella," Dante said as the car stopped in front of enormous double doors.
Home. As if I had any choice in the matter.
The driver opened my door, but I didn't move. Couldn't move. Once I stepped out of this car, once I entered that mansion, there would be no going back.
"I know you're frightened." Dante's voice was surprisingly gentle. "But running isn't an option. My estate is surrounded by security. Guards with guns. Dogs trained to attack. Even if you made it past them, where would you go? Back to your father who sold you?"
The words hit like a slap. He was right. I had nowhere to go. No one to turn to. My father had destroyed that option when he signed those papers.
"I hate you," I whispered.
"No, you don't." Dante stepped out of the car and extended his hand toward me. "You hate your situation. There's a difference. Now come. You must be exhausted."
I was. Exhausted and terrified and so overwhelmed I could barely think. But I forced myself to move, ignoring his offered hand and climbing out on my own.
If I was going to be a prisoner, I'd at least maintain some dignity.
The double doors opened before we reached them, revealing an older woman in a simple black dress. She had kind eyes and grey hair pulled back in a neat bun.
"Mr. Moretti," she greeted with a slight bow. "Welcome home."
"Rosa, this is Isabella. She'll be staying with us." Dante's hand settled on my lower back, possessive and warm through the thin fabric of my dress. "Prepare the blue guest room for her. And have the chef make something light she hasn't eaten."
"Of course, sir." Rosa's eyes softened when she looked at me. "Welcome, dear. Let me show you to your room."
I wanted to scream that I didn't want a room. I wanted to go home. But home didn't exist anymore, so I followed Rosa through the most beautiful house I'd ever seen.
Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. Art that probably cost more than my entire life.
Everything was pristine, elegant, expensive.
A gilded cage.
"Here we are." Rosa opened a door on the second floor, revealing a bedroom that was bigger than my entire apartment had been.
The walls were a soft blue-grey. A massive four-poster bed dominated the space, covered in white silk bedding. French doors opened onto a balcony overlooking gardens lit by soft lights. There was a sitting area with a velvet couch, a walk-in closet that was currently empty, and a bathroom that looked like a spa.
"Mr. Moretti had this room prepared for you," Rosa explained, moving to the closet. "The wardrobe will be stocked tomorrow. For tonight, there are pajamas and toiletries in the bathroom. If you need anything at all, press this button." She indicated a panel by the bed. "Someone will come immediately."
"Why is he being nice to me?" The question burst out before I could stop it. "He bought me. I'm his property. Why give me all this?"
Rosa's expression turned sad. "Mr. Moretti is… complicated. But he's not cruel, child. Not to those who don't deserve it." She moved toward the door. "Try to rest. You're safe here."
Safe. What a joke.
After she left, I stood in the center of that beautiful room and finally let myself break down. Sobs tore from my throat as I collapsed onto the bed, my body shaking with fear and grief and rage.
My father had sold me. Actually sold me like I was nothing more than currency to pay his debts. And now I was trapped in a mansion owned by a man who looked at me like I was a possession he'd acquired.
I cried until I had no tears left. Until my eyes were swollen and my throat raw. Until exhaustion pulled me under despite my terror.
I woke to sunlight streaming through the French doors.
For one blissful moment, I forgot where I was. Forgot everything that had happened. Then reality crashed back, and I wanted to cry all over again.
But I'd cried enough. Tears wouldn't change anything.
I forced myself out of bed and into the bathroom. If I was going to survive this, I needed to be strong. I needed to think clearly.
The shower was incredible rainfall head, multiple jets, water pressure that felt like heaven. I stayed under the hot spray until my skin was pink, trying to wash away the memory of those men's hands grabbing me, dragging me, treating me like cargo.
There were pajamas as Rosa had promised expensive silk that felt like water against my skin. No regular clothes though. Just the auction dress hanging in the closet like a ghost.
A knock on the door made me jump.
"Come in," I called, wrapping my arms around myself.
Rosa entered with a tray. "Good morning, dear. I brought breakfast. Mr. Moretti thought you might prefer to eat in your room today."
"How considerate of him." I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice.
"He can be considerate when he chooses to be." Rosa set the tray on the small table by the window. "Eat. You need your strength."
The food was beautiful fresh fruit, pastries, eggs cooked perfectly. My stomach growled despite everything. I hadn't eaten since my shift at the diner yesterday.
Yesterday. Was it really just yesterday that my life had been normal?
"Rosa?" I asked as she turned to leave. "Who is he? Really?"
She paused, her hand on the door handle. For a moment, I thought she wouldn't answer. Then she turned back to me, her expression grave.