Alesia's POV.
As relaxing as the hot tub was supposed to be, my muscles refused to unclench. Steam curled around me in soft white ribbons, but even that couldn't calm the panic twisting inside my chest. My fingers dug into the edge of the tub until they ached.
Was he going to sleep with me?
The thought alone made my pulse spike.
Jesus Christ. I would rather drown myself in this damn tub than betray Antonio. The contract said nothing about Jericho touching me. Nothing about sharing a bed, nothing about sex, nothing about giving my body to him.
But it didn't matter.
Because he was Jericho.
A man who didn't need permission.
A man who didn't ask—he took.
A man who could do and undo whatever the hell he pleased.
"The Alpha prefers obedience," Eliza murmured above me, her fingers gently massaging my scalp as she washed my hair. She had such a soft voice, too soft to belong in a place ruled by someone like him. "I assure you, he won't do anything inappropriate as long as you're obedient."
I frowned instantly. "The Alpha? As long as I'm obedient? What am I—a fucking pet?" Is that what he makes them call him? The alpha?
She laughed quietly, not mocking but… knowing. "You're very special, Miss. Truly. Jericho has never brought a woman home before. Much less into his bedroom."
I stilled. My breath halted.
Never?
"You have no idea how special you are…" She paused. Then: "A word of advice: use it to your advantage."
My voice cracked. "But…"
"All done, miss." She stepped away, bowing her head slightly. "I'll leave you to dress. I'll have something brought up for you to eat."
************
It had been two full days, and I hadn't stepped a single foot outside this room. Not even once. I hadn't seen Jericho either. If happiness had a physical shape, mine would be a fragile little bubble—ready to burst the moment he reappeared.
If I wasn't locked inside this mansion like a prisoner, I would've believed I was living like a princess. Not a princess in a fairytale—but one trapped in a dark castle with velvet walls and golden cages.
Different maids came every day, carrying silver trays of food so extravagant I didn't even have names for half of it. In twenty-three years of being alive, I had never tasted half the things they served me. And I hadn't repeated a single meal yet.
Imported pastries in the morning.
Lobster in the afternoon
Truffles shaved over eggs that probably cost more than my weekly rent back home.
Life-changing food… served in a prison.
Eliza, though—Eliza had been my only comfort. But she hadn't shown up today. Not once. I kept glancing at the door like a lost child, waiting for her knock.
Maybe… maybe she would be kind enough to help me call Antonio.
God, Antonio.
Was he okay? Was he safe? Did he know where I was? Did he think I abandoned him?
I hugged my knees against my chest, fighting the ache in my heart. Missing him felt like a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding.
With nothing else to do, the TV became my only distraction. The news anchor's polished voice cut through the haze:
"…prominent port merchant Carlo Rossi and his family are still missing after their waterfront villa was destroyed in a suspected arson attack late last night. Authorities also report that senior port inspector Marco Ricci has not been seen since—"
My stomach dropped.
Marco Ricci. The same greasy bastard who used to grope me at the club and laugh when I threatened to break his fingers. Serve that freaking bastard right!
"Miss Alessia." A light knock sounded, and the door opened before I even replied. Eliza stepped inside, smiling warmly, a neatly wrapped package in her hands.
My heart lifted. "Eliza, where have you—"
"The Alp—" She stopped herself quickly, correcting, "Jericho is back."
The words sucked the air out of the room.
My heart didn't just drop—it plummeted, hit the floor, hit hell, then bounced back up to explode inside my chest. My throat dried instantly.
Eliza held out the package. "He would like you to join him for dinner in this."
"What?" My voice cracked as I reached out with trembling fingers, taking the dress.
"I will get you ready," Eliza said.
I clutched the dress like it was a death sentence. "Can you lie?" I whispered. "Can you tell him I'm sick? Please, Eliza—"
Fear bled into my words. I could hear it. She definitely could.
Eliza froze, eyes widening. "Miss… saying that would cost me my life. It would mean I have not taken good care of you." She swallowed hard. "Jericho does not tolerate incompetence."
"Jesus Christ," I breathed, pacing a step back as dread tightened around my lungs.
She softened her expression. "It's okay. You don't have to be scared. I'm sure it's just dinner."
I snapped my gaze toward her, voice cracking with desperation. "With Jericho? It's never just dinner!"
Eliza didn't waste a second. The moment I stopped panicking long enough to breathe, she grabbed the dress box and guided me toward a separate inner room—one I hadn't seen before.
"This way, miss. The dressing room."
She opened a door I had always assumed was just another closet, but the moment it swung open, my breath caught.
It was a full dressing chamber—massive mirrors on every wall, soft golden lights overhead, shelves lined with lotions, perfumes, jewelry boxes, and velvet trays.
"Sit, miss," she said, pulling out a chair.
I sat stiffly as she opened the box with the dress Jericho sent. My heart flipped the moment I saw the red silk.
She helped me step into the dress, adjusted the straps, smoothed the sides, and added simple earrings and a light touch of makeup.
When she finished, she gave me a small nod. "Let's go."
My stomach twisted as we walked out of the dressing room. Only to stop when a maid and two guards walked in, one of them carrying a covered tray.
Eliza didn't look surprised. "Change of plans," she said calmly. "You're having dinner here. On the terrace."
I blinked. "Here? Not… wherever he usually eats?"
"He wants it this way." Eliza stepped aside as the maid hurried past us, pushing open the glass doors that led to the terrace. "They'll set everything up now."
"Sit and look pretty for your alpha".