“Here are the rules.” Danny stops in front of another set of doors. His voice takes on a bureaucratic tone that makes my skin crawl. “No phone calls to the outside world. No internet access except under direct supervision in the library, and all browsing will be monitored. No leaving the estate grounds without armed escort. No contact whatsoever with your previous life—that includes friends, colleagues, or anyone from before.”
My breath catches. “You can’t just—people don’t do this anymore,” I sputter, unable to get my thoughts together. “This is kidnapping.”
My ribs throb as my breathing picks up. The bruises Luca’s man gave me are a constant reminder of what happens when I fight back.
“This is marriage,” Danny corrects, his voice not unkind. “According to the documents you signed last night, Mr. Marchetti has legal authority over household security decisions. Everything I’ve described falls within his rights as your husband.”
“We’re not married yet,” I shoot back. What did I get myself into?
Danny raises a heavy brow. “The legal paperwork is filed. The ceremony is a formality.” He opens the doors, revealing a living room bigger than my entire apartment was. “Your suite is on the second floor. Maria will show you up and help you get settled.”
A woman materializes from a side hallway—late thirties, maybe, with black hair pulled back in a severe bun.
She’s wearing a simple black dress that indicates she’s part of the “domestic staff” and her dark eyes roam over me with something that might be sympathy.
Her gaze lingers on my bruised face for just a heartbeat longer than necessary, and I see her lips purse almost imperceptibly.
Then she smooths her expression into professional blankness.
“Ms. Conti,” she says, her accent placing her somewhere in Eastern Europe. “I am Maria. I will be attending to your needs. Please, follow me.”
Danny’s phone rings before I can protest.
He pulls it from his pocket, glances at the screen, and steps away to answer. “Yes, boss?”
It’s Luca. I strain to hear the conversation, desperate for any information about what’s happening.
What is he is planning?
Is my father really okay?
“She just arrived,” Danny says, his voice low, his back to me as he walks a few feet away. He rocks his weight to the balls of his feet as he listens to Luca. “Yes, I’ve explained the rules.” A pause. “She’s not going anywhere. Does she really need to be locked in?”
My heart stutters.Locked in.
They’re going to lock me in my room like a prisoner.
Like something to be caged and contained.
Danny listens to whatever response Luca gives, and his shoulders rise and fall in a heavy sigh that tells me everything I need to know about the answer.
When he turns back to me, his expression is carefully neutral.
“Maria will show you to your room.” His eyes move toward Maria as an indication I should follow her. “Dinner is at seven. Mr. Marchetti expects you to join him.”
It’s not a request.
Maria gestures toward the staircase, and I follow her on legs that feel like they belong to someone else.
Each step up feels like walking toward my own execution, and my ribs protest the climb, forcing me to grip the banister harder than I’d like.
The second floor is just as opulent as the first.
There’s more paintings, more antiques, more evidence of wealth so extreme it stops being impressive and starts being obscene.
“Here.” Maria stops in front of a door near the end of a long hallway.
She produces a key card and swipes it across a panel I hadn’t noticed. The lock clicks open with a sound that reverberates in my chest.
