No windows. No clock. Just the steady buzz of that damn overhead light and the occasional shuffle of footsteps above me. The ceiling is the only part of this cubed prison that isn’t concrete or steel.
I don’t know if it’s been hours or a day, but my limbs are sore, my mouth tastes like dust, and the walls feel like they’re pressing in closer by the minute. I curl up tighter on the cot, trying to trick my body into rest.
At some point, my mind drifts, slipping into something that feels like sleep, but sweeter.
I’m no longer in the basement. I’m sprawled on crisp white sheets in a sun-drenched bedroom, the sound of the ocean waves crashing beyond the open balcony doors. A warm breeze kisses my bare skin. Outside, a lush garden leads to a private stretch of secluded beach—a perfect paradise.
Dante is beside me.
His hand skims up my thigh, slow and familiar, tracing a path he already knows by heart. His hazel eyes are soft and beaming in the golden light, and for once, there’s no tension in his jaw, no shadows on his face. Just that lazy, dangerous smile that can undo me in seconds.
“Tell me again why we didn’t do this sooner,” he murmurs, fingers brushing the curve of my hip.
“Because you’re stubborn,” I shoot back, smirking as I trail my fingers down his chest.
He laughs, the sound low and rich as he pulls me closer, burying his face in my neck. “Guilty. But I always get there eventually.”
I stretch my body, loving the way his hand cups my belly. “Is this real?” I whisper.
Dante kisses my mouth. “As real as you want it to be.”
The kiss grows deep and hungry, his mouth crashing into mine like he’s been starving for this, for me. His tongue tangles with mine—teasing, tasting, claiming—igniting something feral in me.
His hand slides beneath the thin silk of my nightgown, fingers splaying wide over my hip, dragging upward with slow, deliberate intent. His touch is warm yet rough, and completely addictive. I moan into his mouth, my fingers threading through his hair and pulling him closer until there’s no space, only heat.
A low growl escapes when I arch into him, the nightgown slipping higher as his palm curves over my bare thigh, pulling it around his waist. I feel the hard length of his cock through his thin linen boxers, pressing into me. His hand cups my breast, thumb circling the sensitive peak until I gasp, breaking the kiss only to chase it again a heartbeat later.
“God, Eva…” he breathes against my lips. “You’re going to shatter me.”
His mouth traces a slow path down my throat. He lingers at the hollow of my collarbone, then moves lower, tugging the nightgown aside with his teeth until he finds my bare skin.
He doesn’t rush. He worships. I open myself for him instinctively, my body falling into the familiar rhythm.
Each kiss, each stroke of his tongue is maddening. Intimate. Possessive.
“I love you,” he whispers against my skin.
I’m just about to whisper it back when—BANG!
The world cracks in two.
The sound of metal slamming into metal jolts me from the dream, probably a garbage truck. The noise reverberates through the basement like a cruel joke. My body jerks upright, heart pounding, still half in paradise.
Then reality sets in.
I’m not on a beach. I’m not with Dante. I’m in a basement that smells like mildew and hopelessness, my cheek bruised from Linda’s cruel slap.
“Dammit,” I whisper, dragging a hand down my face. The air is thick, my throat dry. I’m sealed off from everything and everyone.
But I’m not done yet. Not by a long shot.
I stand, pacing the small space. My muscles ache, but I force myself to move, trying to keep the panic from creeping back in. If I have to dig through the concrete with my bare hands, I will get out.
Loudly, the bolt on the door clicks. My pulse spikes and I brace myself, unsure whether to run, fight, or throw a boot at whoever walks in.
The door creaks open and in steps Luca. He’s wearing a designer jacket, and he looks like he just stepped out of a GQ shoot, the collar popped, not a hair out of place. He scans the room with a look of theatrical distaste, like the mold might stain his loafers.
“Wow,” he says, lips twisting in disgust. “They really went all out on your accommodations.”
I cross my arms, glaring. “Came to gloat, or just checking to make sure I haven’t died yet?”
“Neither” he says, stepping further in. “Though, full disclosure—you’re completely screwed.”
I don’t flinch. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
He casually leans against the door frame. “I can get you out.”
I arch a brow. “What’s the catch?”
“You become mine.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“My side piece,” he clarifies, like he’s offering me a new job title. “A little arrangement just between us. We’ll keep it quiet, keep it fun. I’ll handle my mother. You’ll get freedom, protection, maybe even a condo with a decent view. It’s a win-win.”
“You slimy little—” I lunge forward, fury exploding in my chest. “I want to slap you so damn hard your teeth land in Staten Island.”
He laughs. “There’s that fire. You always did have a mouth on you.”
“I’d rather rot in here than crawl into your bed.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” he says, waving a hand. He grins. “You’re not exactly in a position to be picky.”
“You’re disgusting. You think throwing me a lifeline with conditions makes you noble? You’re just as twisted as your mother.”
He flinches at the words then his cockiness fades. “Eva.” His tone softens. “I don’t want you dead. I told her this was going too far. But she wouldn’t listen to me. She’s never listened to me.”
“Then grow a spine and do something to help me! Something that doesn’t involve me becoming your slave.”
“I can’t,” he mutters, looking away and lowering his head.
“You won’t,” I correct. “Let’s not pretend you’re powerless. You just don’t want to risk your inheritance.”
He stiffens, and I know I’ve hit the mark.
I step closer, narrowing my eyes at him. “You knew. From the start, you knew she was planning something. Your own wedding, the Lombardis, and you let it all happen.”
“I didn’t think she’d take it this far,” he says quietly.
“But you didn’t stop it,” I retort. “And now here I am. Pregnant and being held captive in an old, musty cellar. No water, no food. I’m fucking pregnant, Luca! And you’re standing here trying to trade my freedom for sex like it’s some kind of negotiation.”
His face hardens. “You made your choice, Eva. You chose my father.”
“I didn’t choose this! I didn’t choose this war, and I certainly didn’t choose to be kidnapped and held prisoner. As for your father, he’s ten times the man you’ll ever be.”
Luca’s jaw clenches, anger lighting his eyes, and for a brief second, I think he might hit me. But he straightens his jacket and looks away.
“I tried,” he mutters. “Remember that.”
The door slams shut behind him, the bolt sliding back into place like a coffin lid. I’m alone again.
I stand tall, fists clenched, heart pounding with adrenaline. Luca’s offer wasn’t salvation. It was a slap in the face.
I can’t count on anyone but myself to get out of here. My only hope is that Dante will find me.
