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Chapter Three

Viviana

The click of my heels echoes softly against the apartment hallway as I make my way to my door, exhaustion pressing heavily on my shoulders. The day has been endless—meetings, investors, and far too much smiling.

All I want now is a hot shower and the bliss of silence.

I unlock the door, stepping into the familiar warmth of my apartment. It smells faintly of lavender, my favorite candles burned down to their wicks from last night. I drop my bag onto the console table and toe off my heels, relishing the soft feel of the rug beneath my feet.

The silence should be comforting, but tonight it feels too still, too deliberate.

Shaking off the unease, I head toward the kitchen, reaching for the light switch. The bulb flickers once before illuminating the space, casting long shadows that stretch into the corners. I open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, and lean against the counter to take a sip.

That’s when I hear it. A faint creak from the living room.

I freeze, the water bottle halfway to my lips. My heart begins to pound as I strain to listen, convincing myself it’s the old pipes or a neighbor’s heavy steps on the floor above me. Then it comes again, closer this time, the unmistakable sound of a floorboard shifting under weight.

“Who’s there?” My voice is steady, but my grip on the bottle tightens.

The shadows shift, and before I can react, two men step into the light. Both are dressed in sharp black suits, their faces hard and impassive. My stomach plummets.

“Miss Rossi,” one of them says, his voice calm, almost polite. “Come with us quietly and this doesn’t have to get unpleasant.”

My instincts take over. I don’t stop to think. The water bottle flies from my hand, catching the man closest to me in the face. He stumbles back, cursing, and I dart for the nearest lamp, yanking it from the table.

“Stay back!” I shout, my voice shaking as I swing the lamp in a wide arc.

The other man lunges, but I’m faster, smashing the lamp over his head. The sound of shattering glass rings out as he staggers, groaning. For a fleeting moment, hope sparks—I can get out of this.

The first man recovers too quickly, grabbing me by the arm. His grip is like iron, and I twist, kicking out with all my strength. My heel connects with his shin, and he grunts, but he doesn’t let go.

“Enough!” he snaps, twisting my arm behind my back.

Pain shoots up my shoulder, and I cry out, struggling against him. The second man, now steady on his feet, grabs my other arm, their combined strength too much to fight.

“Let go of me!” I yell, thrashing uselessly.

“Calm down, Miss Rossi,” the first man says, his voice cold and clipped. “This will all go easier if you cooperate.”

My heart pounds as I struggle against their iron grips pinning my arms to my sides. Every movement feels futile, but I refuse to stop fighting. My breath comes fast and shallow, panic clawing at my throat as the men tighten their hold.

Before I can shout again, the front door swings open with a quiet authority that seems to suck all the air from the room.

A man steps inside.

His tailored suit clings to a tall, broad frame, and the confidence in his stride is undeniable. Everything about him exudes power, from the sharp cut of his jaw to the dark, assessing eyes that land on me and hold my gaze captive.

“Release her,” he commands, his voice deep and calm, yet laced with an authority that brooks no argument.

The men let go instantly, their grip on my arms vanishing. I stumble back a step, my chest heaving, as the stranger moves closer. His calm presence is somehow more terrifying than the physical force of his men.

He stops a few feet away, his dark eyes steady and unnervingly focused on me. “Viviana Rossi,” he says, my name rolling off his tongue like a prison sentence.

“Who the hell are you?” I snap, the adrenaline of fear fueling my defiance.

His lips curl into a faint smile, one devoid of warmth. “Romeo Valenti.”

The name hits me like a physical blow. My father’s frantic warnings flash through my mind. He looks nothing like the slender boy I remember.

And then I think of the man at the party. The man in the tailored suit, who came to say hello, but who was too cold and handsome to interest me. I had felt his eyes on me all night.

He adjusts the sleeves of his coat and as he shrugs his shoulders, I see the ink snaking up over his wrists. My heart freezes in my chest as I remember the dark black car and the tattooed arm of its occupant sitting across from my place.

It was him. In both places.

Is he stalking me?

I feel my heart turn to ice in my chest and my legs threaten to give out beneath me as everything clicks into place.

“This is your father’s doing,” Romeo says smoothly, his tone as cold as the marble floors beneath my feet. “His debts. His betrayals. His failure to protect you.”

I shake my head, stumbling back another step. “Whatever he did, it has nothing to do with me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he replies, his voice soft but lethal. He steps closer, and I find myself frozen in place, trapped by the weight of his presence. “You belong to me now.”

The words send a chill through me, cold and final. My mouth goes dry as I try to summon something—anything—to push back against him. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

His eyes darken, amusement flickering briefly before fading. “You will.”

He turns to his men, nodding once. “Take her.”

“No!” I shout, jerking away as they step forward again. “You can’t do this! I didn’t—”

Romeo’s gaze cuts back to me, sharp and commanding. “Enough.”

That single word silences me, not because I want it to, but because it carries a weight I can’t ignore.

The men take my arms again, not roughly, but with enough strength to ensure I can’t break free. I twist against them, my breaths coming in shallow gasps as they guide me toward the door.

I glance back over my shoulder at Romeo. His expression is detached, as though this is just another business transaction to him.

“You’ll regret this,” I spit, my voice shaking with fury.

He doesn’t respond, but the faintest glint in his eyes tells me he doesn’t take threats lightly.

His men shove me toward the door.

The car is cold and silent, the leather seats beneath me smooth but uncomfortable. My wrists are free, though the presence of the two men on either side of me ensures that I can’t move more than a few inches.

Romeo sits across from me, his posture relaxed, as though this is nothing more than an evening drive.

I glare at him, my pulse racing as I fight to maintain some semblance of control. “What is this? Where are you taking me?”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed out the window. The city lights flicker and blur as the car speeds through the streets, their glow a stark contrast to the shadowy figure seated before me.

His profile is handsome, oh so handsome. He looks like a Greek god sitting across from me. He has a proud, straight nose, a firm chin with a hint of a dimple, and high, sharp cheekbones that look like they could cut glass.

His lips, though.

His lips are soft, supple, almost too full to be a man’s. I suddenly wonder what it would be like to be kissed by them, and I feel a tide of horror wash over me at the thought. What is wrong with me?

“Answer me!” I snap, my voice rising with panic.

Romeo’s eyes shift to mine, their intensity silencing me more effectively than any words could. His calm, deliberate tone sends a shiver down my spine. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

“That’s not an answer!” I shout, my voice breaking. “What do you want from me?”

He leans forward slightly, his hands resting on his knees, his gaze unrelenting. “I want what’s owed. Your father couldn’t pay his debt, so I’m taking something else instead.”

The implication of his words sends a wave of nausea crashing over me. My breath catches, and I shake my head, refusing to believe this is happening. “You think I’m something to barter with? I’m not a piece of property.”

His lips curl into a faint smile, one that makes my stomach twist. “You’re much more than that, Viviana.”

The way he says my name, like it’s both a promise and a threat, makes my skin prickle. I press myself back against the seat, my mind racing with a thousand questions I can’t untangle.

“Whatever my father did,” I say, my voice quieter now, desperate, “I have nothing to do with it. Let me go.”

Romeo’s expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his eyes, a brief moment of something I can’t place—sympathy? Amusement? It’s gone before I can be sure.

“That’s not how this works,” he says simply.

The rest of the drive passes in tense silence. Every attempt I make to demand answers or plead my case is met with the same unyielding calm from him.

His silence is worse than his words, leaving me to imagine every possible scenario, each one darker than the last.

When the car finally slows, I feel no relief. If anything, my fear only deepens. Whatever is waiting for me, I know it won’t be freedom.

The car glides to a stop in front of a towering building, its sleek, glass facade reflecting the city lights like a fortress of cold luxury.

My stomach churns as I take in the pristine lobby visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the uniformed doormen stationed like sentinels. This isn’t just any building—this is one of the most exclusive residences in Milan, a place I’d only ever heard about in passing conversations among the wealthy and well-connected.

The door beside me opens, and one of Romeo’s men gestures for me to step out. I hesitate for a fraction of a second before moving, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing my fear. The night air is cool against my skin, but it does nothing to temper the heat of my anger.

Romeo steps out of the car with effortless grace, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit as though this is just another routine evening for him.

Again, I see a glimpse of the ink that marks his skin. What do the tattoos mean? How far does the ink stretch under his tailored clothing? Why am I thinking such things at all?

He doesn’t spare me a glance as he strides toward the entrance, his men following closely behind. One of them places a firm hand on my back, guiding me forward, and I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to pull away.

Inside, the lobby is every bit as extravagant as I expected—marble floors polished to a mirror finish, chandeliers glittering overhead, and a concierge desk manned by impeccably dressed staff. They barely glance at us, their gazes averted, as though they know better than to question Romeo’s presence.

The elevator ride is suffocating. The mirrored walls reflect everything, and I catch a glimpse of myself—disheveled, pale, and furious. Romeo stands across from me, calm and composed, his face empty of expression.

The silence stretches between us, thick and oppressive, until the elevator dings softly and the doors slide open.

The penthouse is...breathtaking.

My eyes sweep across the sprawling space, taking in the soaring ceilings, the modern furniture, and the floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of Milan’s skyline.

Everything is meticulously designed, a stark contrast to the chaos and violence that brought me here. For a moment, I’m almost distracted by the sheer beauty of it.

Then I notice the details. Bars are discreetly embedded into the window frames, security cameras are mounted high in the corners, and men are stationed at nearly every exit. The illusion of freedom is shattered, replaced by the cold reality of my situation.

This isn’t just a kidnapping. He has moved me to a prison.

“Welcome to your new home,” Romeo says, his voice cutting through my thoughts.

I whirl around to face him, my fists clenched at my sides. “You can’t keep me here. This—this is insane.”

Romeo arches an eyebrow, his calm demeanor infuriating. “Your father’s actions left me with no choice.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I demand, taking a step toward him. “I keep telling you, I’m not a part of this.”

“Your father’s debts are mine now, and you’re the payment.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. Payment. As though I’m some kind of object to be traded, my life is reduced to a currency in this man’s twisted world.

“You’re out of your mind,” I snap, my voice trembling with a mixture of rage and disbelief.

Romeo takes a step closer, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my pulse race. “You can fight this all you want, Viviana, but it won’t change the truth. You belong to me now. You will marry me, and you will be glad that I offered such a lenient way to satisfy your father’s debts.”

The sheer arrogance in his words leaves me speechless. I want to scream, to throw something, to make him feel even a fraction of the helpless fury coursing through me.

The weight of his presence, the unshakable authority he exudes, holds me in place.

Without another word, Romeo gestures to one of his men. They approach with a key, and I watch, frozen, as they unlock a door at the far end of the penthouse.

The room beyond is spacious, its minimalist decor just as luxurious as the rest of the apartment, but it feels stifling all the same.

“You’ll stay here,” Romeo says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Stay here?” I echo, my voice rising. “You mean, like a prisoner?”

Romeo’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You’ll find the accommodations more than adequate.”

“Adequate? I’m not some guest at your twisted hotel!” My voice cracks as I glare at him, my chest heaving with the effort to hold back tears of frustration.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he steps aside as the man locks the door from the outside. The click of the lock is deafening, a final punctuation to my newfound captivity.

I throw myself against the door, pounding on it with my fists. “You can’t do this! Hey! Let me out!”

Romeo doesn’t look back as he walks away, his calm footsteps echoing down the hall until they fade entirely.

I slump against the door, my breaths shallow and ragged. The opulence of the room around me only deepens the suffocating sense of isolation. A gilded cage is still a cage.

My gaze drifts to the barred windows, the locks on every visible door, and the cameras that likely watch my every move. I’m not just a prisoner here. He’s a prisoner too, in his own way.

Someone raised in this life, bound by its violence and rules. A man like Romeo Valenti doesn’t have the freedom to walk away from a life like this.

The thought settles uncomfortably in my mind as I drag myself to my feet, refusing to let despair win.

I don’t know how, but I’ll get out of this. I’ll find a way to escape.