Chapter 2 - The Gilded Cage

Bela

“NO,” I said for the fourth time, pushing away a hanger draped in a cascading, midnight-blue gown. “I am not putting that on. I am not playing dress-up for Sebastian.”

The younger maids exchanged terrified glances, looking at the heavy double doors as if expecting Seb to burst through them at any moment.

But it was the older servant, a woman with silver-streaked hair and deeply lined eyes named Maria, who finally stepped forward. She gently dismissed the others with a sharp nod.

Once the door clicked shut, Maria held up a striking emerald green knitted dress. She didn’t look at me with pity.

“Signorina Bela,” she whispered. “Resisting Mr. Ricaforte in private is one thing. But resisting him publicly, in front of the people who are coming today? It will only make things worse for you. Put on the dress. Do not give his enemies a reason to look closely at you.”

Her words hit me like a splash of ice water. She was right. Survival meant blending in, even when trapped in a gilded cage.

Ten minutes later, I was being escorted downstairs.

The penthouse had been transformed. The minimalist, cavernous spaces were alive with activity. Caterers in pristine white coats moved flawlessly between tables. The mansion wasn't just hosting a dinner, it was preparing for royalty.

Sebastian stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Milan skyline. He was the picture of calm, composed aristocracy, dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, a glass of amber liquid resting loosely between his fingers.

Looking at him, no one would ever guess the violent, desperate way he had pinned me against a wall the night before, or the raw grief we had bled into the sheets. He acted as though nothing unusual had happened.

As I walked into the lounge, his dark eyes tracked me instantly, sweeping over the emerald dress before settling on my face.

He didn't smile. He just gave a slight nod to his men. I watched as guards and servants alike shifted instantly at his silent command, obeying him without a single question. His power was absolute now.

Before I could walk toward him, the heavy front doors were thrown open, and the atmosphere in the room shifted entirely.

A glamorous young woman walked in, and it felt as though the very air grew expensive.

She wore a pristine, tailored white pantsuit that contrasted sharply with her dark, sleek hair, styled in an immaculate chin-length bob. Every movement she made was elegant, sophisticated, and dripping with generational wealth.

This was Alessandra Vittoria Moretti—the daughter of one of Italy’s most powerful mafia dons.

“Sebastian,” she murmured, her voice like silk as she stepped toward him.

Seb caught her hand, kissing the back of it with flawless, practiced courtliness. “Alessandra. Welcome.”

Then, he turned her slightly toward the rest of the room, and the words that left his mouth made my heart skipped a beat.

“Everyone, this is Alessandra Moretti. My fiancée.”

My breath caught in my throat. For a sickening second, it felt like history was repeating itself.

Alessandra smiled, but as her gaze drifted across the room, it landed squarely on me. Her perfect, manicured brow arched slightly. She didn’t know completely who I was, but a woman like Alessandra could sniff out a threat in a room full of smoke.

“And who is this, Sebastian?” Alessandra asked, her tone polite but razor-sharp as she stepped closer to me.

Seb’s expression remained an unreadable mask. He stepped between us just enough to establish a barrier, deliberately hiding our real history.

“She’s someone under my protection,” Seb replied smoothly, his voice devoid of any warmth. “An old acquaintance of the family.”

The lie hung heavy in the air.

Alessandra’s eyes narrowed just a fraction, sensing instantly that I meant far more than Seb was admitting. I could see the wheels turning in her head, the sudden calculation as she realized she was looking at a silent threat, even if she didn’t know why.

She stopped a mere foot away from me, her eyes tracing my burgundy curls, and the tightness in my jaw.

“Have we met before?” she asked politely.

“No,” I replied simply, keeping my voice as deadpan as possible.

Before I could say anything else, Seb intervened, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Bela has had a long journey, Alessandra. Let’s not bore her with politics just yet. Come, let me show you the terrace.”

Alessandra let out a soft, melodic laugh that didn't reach her eyes, allowing Seb to guide her away. But as she walked past, she threw one last, lingering look over her shoulder at me.

It took hours for the meeting to conclude and for Alessandra to finally leave.

The moment the front doors shut behind her entourage, the mask slipped from my face. I marched straight into Seb’s private study, slamming the heavy oak door behind me.

He was pouring another drink, completely unbothered.

“You really haven't changed,” I spat, my hands trembling with suppressed fury. “Still playing your games. Still marrying for power while keeping me locked away like a dirty little secret.”

Seb set the crystal decanter down with a soft, ominous click. He turned around, his eyes as cold and unforgiving as the arctic.

“What’s important is I brought you back to keep you breathing,” he growled, stopping right in front of me, his shadow swallowing me whole. “Get used to the penthouse, Bela. Because you aren’t leaving.”

He brushed past me, leaving the scent of his cologne and total finality in his wake.

**

WHEN THE penthouse had grown dead quiet, I slipped out of the bedroom. I needed a way out. I walked down the east corridor toward the service elevator and stopped dead. Two armed guards stood there, their hands resting on their holsters.

I turned back, heading toward the main foyer. Two more guards.

I checked the emergency stairwell at the end of the hall. Another pair of men, their expressions locked in stone.

A cold, suffocating dread settled deep into my chest as I backed away into the shadows. Every single exit from the penthouse was heavily guarded. There was no slipping through the cracks this time. I wasn’t just under his protection.

I was completely trapped.