Belle's apartment was exactly what I expected. The tiny dwelling felt dated, and tragically insecure. The locks on her door wouldn't keep out a determined teenager, let aloneRossi's men. I stepped inside behind her, my shoulders nearly brushing both sides of the narrow hallway. The living room beyond was no bigger than my walk-in closet, furnished with mismatched pieces that somehow formed a cohesive whole. Despite myself, I admired how she'd transformed the shabby space into something warm. String lights draped across one wall. A worn couch covered with a vibrant throw blanket looked incredibly uncomfortable but cheerful. She'd made something from nothing, a skill I recognized in her and I planned to ensure she never had to use that skill again.
"It's not much," she said, watching my face for judgment. "But it's mine."
I nodded, keeping my expression neutral as I noted the cracked ceiling, the ancient radiator, the window that opened directly onto a fire escape, a security nightmare in the extreme. "Pack what you need for tonight. We can send someone for the rest tomorrow."
Belle moved to the bedroom, and I followed, cataloging every detail. A full-sized bed took up most of the space, neatly made. Beside it stood a small table with a lamp, a laptop that looked ancient and a glass of water resting on the surface. A small dresser held a collection of succulents crowded the surface. They were the only luxury I could see, these small plants in their ceramic pots.
"You're judging," Belle said quietly, pulling a duffel bag from beneath the bed. She went to one drawer and emptied the contents. I thought I saw socks and underwear, but I tried to give her as much privacy as I could.
"Observing," I corrected, watching as she opened another drawer and pulled out a few more things. She didn’t take time to think about what she was taking, just threw a few things from a couple other drawers and zipped the full bag shut. I doubt she could get anything else inside if she’d tried. She didn’t havemuch. The realization stirred something uncomfortable in my chest. "Have you lived here long, Bell?”
"Almost a year." She didn't look at me, instead grabbing a smaller bag and tossed her toiletries inside. "Longest I've stayed anywhere since I was sixteen."
I filed that information away with the growing collection of Belle-facts I'd been accumulating. Each piece of the puzzle made her more fascinating, more… precious. I had an overview of her background, but I wanted to hear all of it from her.
Belle was quiet as she finished up, still not meeting my gaze as she stood by her bed where her duffel sat. “You’ll make sure I get my stuff back?”
“You will. Matteo will bring you an inventory list and you can let him know where you want everything. If there’s anything you want to put into storage, He’ll arrange that as well.”
“Don’t think there’s enough here to put into storage.” She looked away, looking as uncomfortable as I’d ever seen a woman.
Despite wanting to reassure her more than anything that I’d take care of whatever she needed, I decided to go a different route. Just because I’m a bastard. "Your clothes will look out of place at Villa Luca," I said, needing to see if I could get her ire up. I much preferred her small shows of temper. In fact, she was going to need her temper if she was going to go toe to toe with me. For the first time in my life, I found myself eager for the challenge of taming a woman. Mostly because I had the feeling there was a backbone of steel with this one. I wanted to push her.
Belle stiffened. "I'm fully aware."
"That wasn't a criticism. Just an observation."
"You can observe it all you want, but it doesn't change the fact that I don't have anything appropriate for..." She gestured vaguely. "Whatever this is."
"We can remedy that easily enough. It’s not like money is an obstacle for me.”
She shook her head sharply. "I don't want your money, Dario."
"Then consider it an investment in your safety." I moved closer, lowering my voice. "The right clothes, the right accessories—they're armor in my world, Belle. They signal who is protected and who isn't."
She looked up at me, her green eyes searching mine. "Your world," she repeated softly. She turned away, running her fingers along the spines of her books as if saying goodbye. "I don't belong in your world, Dario." Her voice was so soft I almost didn't hear her. "I never will."
Something in my chest constricted at her words, a painful tightness I wasn't accustomed to feeling. I crossed to where she stood, taking her hand deliberately in mine. Her fingers were cool, delicate, but stronger than they looked. Like the rest of her.
"Maybe not," I said, keeping my voice gentle but firm. "But youdobelong with me now."
Her eyes widened at the declaration which was part admission, part possession. She opened her mouth as if to protest, then closed it again. I watched the struggle play across her face, the warring instincts to run or surrender. Finally, she nodded, once, a bare acknowledgment of the reality neither of us had chosen but both now faced.
“Fine. But only what’s strictly necessary and I’m giving them back when this is all over.”
I brought her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm in a gesture of tenderness that surprised even me. Her skin smelled of lemon and mint, simple soap rather than expensive perfume. The contrast to what I was accustomed to struck me again. Everything about Belle was different. Unexpected. Real in a way that my world rarely allowed. "We should finish," I said, releasing her hand reluctantly. "It's getting late."
She swallowed, nodding slightly. When she zipped the duffel bag, I took it from her hands before she could protest. "Is that everything for tonight?"
She glanced around the room once more, her expression conflicted. "Yeah. That’s it."
"Your plants?" I asked, nodding toward the collection on her dresser.
A small smile touched her lips. "Tomorrow? They're sensitive to being moved and I’m not sure I’m going to feel like putting in the work tonight."
"Tomorrow," I agreed, pleased by this sign that she was accepting the situation. Planning for continued habitation at Villa Luca, even in this small way.
I led her from the apartment, watching as she locked the flimsy door behind us, a futile gesture, but one that clearly provided her comfort. As we descended the narrow stairs to the street, I kept my free hand at the small of her back. Protective. Possessive. Belle was leaving her world and entering mine. I would ensure she never had reason to regret it.
