The hanging chandelier cast a warm glow over the opulent interior, its soft, golden light enveloping the space. Across the room, I sat in a leather armchair, my gaze pinned on my little prisoner—the sleeping beauty.
She lay on the comfy mattress, eyes shut, her chest quietly rising and falling—still unconscious, oblivious to her new reality. The girl looked innocent in that state, so pure and blameless that her chasteness was enough to melt a regular man’s heart.
Not mine, though. My heart was made of stone; at least, that was what I was told.
Strands of her honey-blonde hair framed her baby face, her porcelain skin simmering under the soft lights. My gaze swept across her sleeping form as she lay on her side, her slender body arching gracefully. Her hips and waist curved inward, her legs stretching out in a gentle line.
I sat on the sofa, my expression flat—unreadable—as I watched her sleep. The drugs were bound to wear off at any time, meaning sooner rather than later, she’d regain consciousness. I’d wait. I was that patient. After all, I had all the time in the world. There were tons of other things to be done at the moment, but this was more important to me.
She’d wake up soon, confused and in desperate need of answers to the millions of questions that would be running through her mind. Luckily for her, I’d be here to savor the look of fear on her face as I explained the situation she was trapped in.
A faint smirk lined the corner of my lips, anticipating her reaction when I broke her heart and shattered her hopes with my responses.
Until then, let her sleep. This was by far going to be the last good sleep she’d have for a very long time anyway.
My fingers stroked my jaw, my smirk deepening as I thought about Dante Romano’s reaction when he discovered his daughter had been kidnapped. He would almost certainly lose his mind, considering just how precious she was to him. The idea that this little act would tear Dante’s mind apart was satisfying as hell.
The bastard pushed my hand, and his lack of remorse only fueled my rage. He’d stolen something valuable to me, and now, I’d taken something even more valuable from him. An eye for an eye—that was what I believed in. He knew better than to cross me; he knew that my revenge would be brutal. Yet, he let his pride get in the way. Now, look where that got him.
Sleeping Beauty would wake up soon and realize that she’d been stripped of the safety her last name once provided. She would understand that she was my prisoner and that, in here, I called the shots. The girl would come to know that I was Lord over her, and there was nothing that could be done to save her. No one would come to save her from me. Absolutely no one. She was mine.
Her soft gasp snatched my attention, and my eyes darted to her face, where a slow breath escaped her lips. Her eyelids fluttered open, and her hand flew to her head, wincing at the aches that plagued her. She blinked a few times, rubbing the back of her hand over her heavy eyes.
I watched her in silence, my gaze fixed on her face. She looked in my direction, but it seemed her vision was still a bit blurry, as she hadn’t reacted to the strange man staring directly at her. She groaned softly, her body shifting on the sheets.
The moment she locked eyes with me, I saw the confusion and fear dancing in her features. Her breath hitched, and with a reflexive move, she jerked up, pulling the sheets over her body with her back against the headboard. Her fingers clenched the hem of the sheets, the white fabric draping over her form.
My face broke into a subtle, amused grin at how ridiculous it was for her to have thought that she was naked.
Her brown eyes darted across the unfamiliar space, her breath slow and uneven.
“You’re awake,” I said, my gaze pinned on her. “Good.”
She faced me, her eyes narrowing and brows furrowing to form deep creases between them. “Where am I?” she demanded, her voice cold and solemn.
The glint of defiance in her eyes and the little courage that laced her tone were not what I’d expected. Where the fuck was the fear flickering in her gaze just moments ago?
She glared at me, her scowl deepening, unafraid of the man sitting across from her. “Did you…?” Her head tilted to the side, eyes squinting. “Did you abduct me?” She looked around the room, a hint of anxiety flashing across her face. “You kidnapped me!” she declared, her tone sharp and defiant.
My lips twitched into a knowing smile, and I leaned forward, the leather couch crunching beneath me. “What if I did?” I questioned, holding her gaze.
She frowned at me. “Kidnapping is punishable by law, and there are severe consequences for that.”
My eyebrows shot up in amusement, my tone sarcastic. “Ah, right. I almost forgot who you are—Alessia Romano, Dante’s youngest daughter, soon-to-be family lawyer.”
She glared at me in silence, her chest rising and falling with slow breaths.
“Do you know who I am, little Romano?” I asked, my voice low and even.
“Other than the fact that you’re my kidnapper? Please.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re Nik Tarasov.”
Her confidence, spunk, and courage sparked a dark kind of interest in me. She didn’t seem afraid of me, nor did she cower the way most people would when in my presence. The little brat must still believe that her last name offered the same protection as it did outside these walls.
“I don’t know what’s going on here,” she began, staring into my eyes, her face contorted into a frown. “But I want no part of it. Now, take me home,” she instructed me like I was one of those bodyguards her father hired to keep her safe.
I hesitated for a moment before rising to my feet, my footsteps slow and deliberate as I approached the bed. I watched her swallow hard, her throat wobbling; then, her head jerked upward to face me. A glimpse of fear flickered in her eyes, and her chest heaved slowly.
Towering over her, I bent at my waist, leaning in to whisper in her face. “Listen to me, and listen carefully,” I began, my voice low and malicious. Each word was spoken with a deliberate slowness, cold enough to send shivers down her spine. “This isn’t some game, and in here, you’re not in control. I am. You don’t call the shots. I do.”
A malevolent glare came from her, her eyes filled with loathing.
I raised her chin, my eyes boring into hers. “Let’s get something clear.” I paused, watching the way she clenched her jaw in resistance. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re my prisoner, and you belong to me now. I own you.” I let go of her chin, taking a step back.
Her brows knitted together in annoyance, and she shot me a venomous look. “I’m not a piece of property,” she said quietly, her voice laced with disdain. “And you don’t own me.”
The fire in her eyes was admirable, as was her bravery. But time would tell just how long she could keep up with the act.
I adjusted my tie and curled my lips into a sly grin before walking away.
I could still feel her gaze lingering as I headed toward the door, my movements fluid and purposeful.
A hint of frustration laced her tone as she yelled, “You don’t own me!” moments before I stepped out and shut the door behind me.
She would break eventually.
It was just a matter of time.
