The first thing I notice is the warmth. The stone floor under my feet isn’t cold like I expected, but heated somehow, ancient architecture married to modern comfort. The walls are the same natural stone as the rest of the fortress, but softer here, more textured. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across one wall, overlooking terraced gardens that spill down toward the glittering Mediterranean.
Moonlight floods the space.
The bed is low and wide. Dark linens. Minimal frame. Clean lines, nothing ornate. A stack of books on the nightstand—Italian, English, what looks like Latin. A single photograph in a simple frame, too far away to see clearly.
Personal. Private. Vulnerable.
This is where he sleeps. Where he dreams. The only space in this entire fortress that’s belongs only to him.
And I just invaded it.
I turn to face him just as the door clicks shut.
Elio hasn’t moved from the threshold, like I might be a miracle or a grenade and he hasn’t decided which.
“Violet.” Quieter now. “What are you doing here?”
The words stick in my throat. All the things I rehearsed in my head, all the speeches I constructed while staring at ceiling cracks, they’re gone.
I open my mouth and nothing comes out.
He takes a step toward me. Stops. Like he’s afraid of spooking me.
“Talk to me.” His voice is gentle. The same tone he used when I was starving. When he washed my hair and fed me from his hands. “Whatever it is, whatever you need?—”
“I’m done.” The words finally break free. Too loud in the quiet room.
He goes still, his eyes wild with fear. “Done?”
“Done fighting.” My hands are shaking. I press them flat against my thighs to make them stop. “Done saying ‘no’ when I mean ‘yes’. Done pretending I don’t want?—”
I can’t finish. Can’t say the words while he’s looking at me like that.
“Violet.” He takes another step. Close enough now that I can smell the citrus and wood I’ve come to crave. Clean. Real.Him.“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want this.” The truth rips out of me, raw and terrifying. “I want you. And I need you to know it’s not because I’m scared, or broken, or confused.”
His breath catches.
“It’s because ofyou.” My voice cracks. I don’t care. “Because you’re a monster, and I know you’re a monster, and I want you anyway. Because when Gabriella stood there telling me she’d had you, all I could think was—” I laugh, hollow and a little desperate. “How dare she touch what’s mine.”
His face cracks. Behind his eyes, something gives.
“You can’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“Violet—” He shakes his head and takes a step back, like he’s the one who needs distance now. “You don’t know what you’re saying. What you’re offering. I’m not—I’m not capable of?—”
“Bullshit.” I close the distance he created. Stand right in front of him, close enough to see the pulse jumping in his throat. “You don’t get to decide what I want. You don’t get to tell me I’m confused or scared or making a mistake.”
“I kidnapped you.”
“I know.”
“I kept you prisoner. Drugged you. Forced you to?—”
“Iknow.” My hand lifts before I can stop it. Presses flat against his chest. His heart pounds beneath my palm, fast and frantic. Not the steady predator rhythm I expected. “And I’m still choosing this. Choosing you.”
