Chapter 3

Bella woke up the next morning in a bed that wasn’t hers, in a house that felt like a luxurious prison. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the guest suite Lucian had assigned her. The room was beautiful — soft grey tones, a massive king bed with silk sheets, a private balcony overlooking the city — but it did nothing to calm the storm inside her.

She sat up, pulling the covers to her chest even though she was wearing pajamas. Her mind replayed the night before on an endless loop: Lucian’s mouth on hers, his fingers inside her, the way he’d denied her release and walked away like it was nothing. Her cheeks burned with a mix of shame and lingering arousal.

*This is wrong,* she told herself firmly. *He’s my father’s enemy. Twice my age. Dangerous.* She couldn’t let last night happen again. She wouldn’t.

A soft knock sounded on the door.

“Miss Vale? Breakfast is ready. Mr. Cross is waiting for you in the dining room.”

Bella dressed quickly in jeans and a simple sweater — something modest and unrevealing. She needed armor today.

When she entered the dining room, Lucian was already seated at the head of the long table, reading something on his tablet. He looked impeccable in a tailored black suit, every inch the powerful CEO. He didn’t look up immediately, but she felt his presence like a physical weight.

“Sit,” he said without greeting.

Bella remained standing. “I’m not a dog you can order around.”

Finally, those grey eyes lifted to hers. There was no warmth in them this morning — only cold control. “You are under my roof and under my protection. That means you follow my rules. Sit down, Bella.”

She hesitated, then slowly took the seat to his right. A maid placed plates of eggs, fresh fruit, and coffee in front of them. The silence was heavy.

“I want to call my father,” Bella said suddenly, breaking it.

“No.”

Her fork clattered against the plate. “What do you mean ‘no’? He’s my father. I need to know if he’s okay.”

Lucian set his tablet down and leaned back, studying her like she was a problem to solve. “Your father is the reason you’re here. Contacting him right now would put both of you at greater risk. His enemies are watching his communications. Until I neutralize the immediate threats, you have no phone, no social media, and no unmonitored internet.”

Bella’s hands clenched into fists. “You can’t do this. This is kidnapping.”

A dark chuckle escaped him. “Kidnapping? Your father begged me to take you. Signed the papers himself. Legally, you’re under my guardianship until this mess is cleaned up.” He slid a folder across the table. “Read it.”

She opened it with shaking hands. It was all there — documents, threats, photos of men watching her father’s properties. Proof that this wasn’t a game. Her stomach twisted.

Lucian watched her closely. “You hate me. That’s fine. But hate me while you’re alive. I don’t care about your feelings, Bella. I care about keeping you breathing.”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “Why do you even care? You and my father destroyed each other years ago. This is just another way for you to hurt him, isn’t it? Using me as revenge?”

Something flickered in Lucian’s expression — something almost like regret, but it was gone too fast to be sure. He stood up and walked around the table, stopping beside her chair. He was so tall that she had to tilt her head back to look at him.

“Stand up,” he ordered quietly.

Bella stayed seated, defiant. “No.”

In one smooth motion, Lucian gripped her arm and pulled her to her feet. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that she couldn’t resist. He backed her against the dining table, caging her in with his body. His hands gripped the edge on either side of her hips.

“You will learn to obey me,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Not because I enjoy breaking you — though I might — but because disobedience gets people killed in my world. Do you understand?”

Bella’s heart raced. She could feel the heat of his body, smell his cologne, see the silver threads in his dark hair. Part of her wanted to push him away. Another part, the traitorous part, remembered how his hands had felt on her the night before.

“I hate you,” she whispered.

“Good,” he replied. “Hate keeps you sharp. Now, I’m giving you a tour of the house. You will learn every exit, every security feature, and every rule. And you will not test me again today.”

He didn’t wait for her agreement. He simply took her wrist in a firm grip and led her out of the dining room.

The tour was thorough and intimidating. Lucian showed her the state-of-the-art security system, the panic rooms, the cameras covering every inch of the grounds. He introduced her to his head of security, Marcus Kane — a tall, serious man who clearly answered only to Lucian.

“You are not to leave the grounds without approval,” Marcus told her politely but firmly. “Mr. Cross’s orders.”

Bella felt more trapped with every door they opened.

When they reached Lucian’s home office, he finally released her wrist. The room was massive, dominated by a heavy oak desk and walls of bookshelves. He sat behind the desk like a king on his throne.

“Sit,” he said again.

This time she obeyed, sinking into the leather chair opposite him.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Lucian continued. “You’re planning how to run. How to contact your friends or your father behind my back. Don’t.” He leaned forward. “I have eyes everywhere, Bella. If you force my hand, I will restrict you even more. Is that what you want?”

She shook her head, but inside she was screaming. This man held all the power, and he knew it. The worst part was the small, shameful voice in the back of her mind that kept remembering how good his touch had felt — even when she didn’t want to want it.

The rest of the day passed in tense silence. Lucian worked from his office while Bella was allowed to explore the library and gardens, always with a discreet security presence nearby. Every time she turned a corner, she half-expected him to appear.

By evening, she was exhausted from the emotional whiplash. She skipped dinner and retreated to her room, locking the door even though she knew it wouldn’t stop him if he wanted to enter.

She curled up on the bed, hugging her knees. *I have to be strong,* she told herself. *I can’t let him break me. No matter how much my body betrays me.*

A knock sounded on her door.

“Bella.” Lucian’s voice, calm but commanding. “Open the door. We’re not done talking.”

She didn’t move.

The handle turned. Of course he had a key.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. In the dim lamplight, he looked even more imposing. “You missed dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Lucian crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed. Close. Too close. “This doesn’t have to be a war, Bella. I’m not your enemy here.”

“You are,” she whispered. “Everything about this is wrong.”

He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture was surprisingly gentle, but his eyes were hard. “Wrong or not, you’re mine to protect now. And I protect what’s mine. Even if I have to force you to accept it.”

The words hung between them — heavy, possessive, and full of unspoken threats and promises.

Bella turned her face away, heart pounding with fear, anger… and something dangerously close to anticipation.

Lucian stood up slowly. “Sleep well. Tomorrow will be harder.”

He left the room, locking the door behind him.

Bella stared at the ceiling long into the night, wondering how she was going to survive Lucian Cross without losing herself completely.