Chapter 4 — The Rules of Captivity

Seb

FOR TWELVE grueling months, I carried a melted piece of metal in my pocket—the only remnant recovered from the car explosion that was supposed to have claimed her life.

The syndicate called it a tragedy.

Don Bernardo called it closure.

I called it a lie.

I stood in the dim light of my private monitoring room, staring flatly at the wall of security screens displaying every angle of the penthouse. On the central monitor, Bela sat on the edge of the mattress in the master suite, her burgundy curls falling over her face as she stared down at her bare hands.

“We have locked down the perimeter, Don Sebastian,” Matteo said, stepping quietly into the room. He adjusted the tactical tablet in his hands, his face tight with concern.

I didn't turn away from the screens. “And the household staff?”

“Maria has instructed them all,” Matteo replied quickly. “They know the penalty for speaking outside these walls is death. But the captains are asking questions downstairs, Don. They want to know why you are keeping an unknown maid hidden in the penthouse instead of taking her to the main estate.”

“The captains don't need to know anything,” I rasped, my voice cold and flat. “No one. Not our rivals, not our allies, and especially not Alessandra, can find out who she really is. If the syndicate realizes the last Dela Costa heir is breathing, Don Bernardo will deploy every hitman in Italy to finish the job. She stays here.”

Matteo bowed his head respectfully. “Understood, Don Sebastian.”

“Leave me.”

Matteo stepped out, pulling the door shut behind him.

I stood alone in the dark room, watching her on the screen.

Matteo didn't know the whole truth. He thought finding her in that dirty Milan nightclub had been a chaotic accident. He didn't know about the private bank accounts I had spent months tracking, the flight manifests I had cross-referenced, or the private mercenaries I had hired to sweep the city.

I had bought this penthouse eight months ago. I had reinforced the steel walls, installed encrypted locks, and waited. I knew her better than she knew herself.

Belarina Dela Costa was a fighter, and survivors always resurface. I just had to be the one holding the net when she did.

I left the monitoring room and walked down the silent corridor. The heavy leather of my boots made no sound against the carpet. I unlocked the heavy door to the master suite and pushed it open.

Bela’s head snapped up instantly.

She stood up from the bed, her messy burgundy curls falling wild around her shoulders. She wore an oversized black shirt that belonged to me, the hem barely reaching her thighs, exposing her long, pale legs.

The sight of her hit me straight in the gut. A violent surge of possessive desire hit my veins, making my blood burn hot.

It took every ounce of my willpower not to drag her back onto the sheets and lose myself in her body.

“Are you locking me in now?” Bela demanded, her voice dripping with sharp venom. “What is next, Seb? Chains?”

“If you make them necessary,” I replied, closing the door behind me. I didn't lock it this time. The armed guards stationed in the hallway were weapon enough.

“You are insane,” she whispered, backing away until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress. “You think you can keep me as your secret prisoner? You have a fiancée. If Alessandra finds out—”

“Alessandra knows only what I allow her to know,” I cut her off, stepping into her space until my shadow swallowed her frame. “She does not know you. No one does. That is rule number one, Bela.”

She let out a bitter, mocking laugh. “Oh, wonderful. Now we are laying down rules.”

“Listen to me very carefully,” I said, my voice dropping into a low, lethal baritone.

I moved fast, closing the distance before she could react. I grabbed her by the waist and slammed her back onto the mattress, hovering over her body as the breath exploded from her lungs.

I pinned her wrists down against the silk sheet, leaning in until my chest was pressed flat against hers. The scent of her skin filled my senses, driving me wild.

“You are under my protection,” I rasped, my dark eyes locked onto her trembling lips. “That means you do not step outside this penthouse without me. You do not speak to the guards. And if anyone asks who you are, you are an insignificant servant. Nothing more.”

Bela didn't cower. She narrowed her dark eyes, digging her sharp nails violently into the thick leather of my watch strap, fighting against my crushing weight.

“I am not your protection project, Sebastian!” she spat, her chest heaving wildly against mine. “And I am definitely not your secret whore! I am the last of the Dela Costa line! Your father took me in to hide me, and you are just continuing the tradition! I will not accept this!”

My jaw clenched until my teeth ached. I lowered my head, my mouth brushing against the warm skin of her lips, tasting the fierce, hot defiance rolling off her in waves.

“You can fight me all you want, carina,” I whispered rasply against her mouth, my thumb tracing the sharp line of her jawline. “But you are not leaving. I spent a whole year bleeding out the hitmen who tried to burn your body.”

“You can’t do this, Seb!” she shouted and tried to push me. “You have to set me free—”

“Never again,” I cut off. “I tore Milan apart to find you. You don't get to run twice. You belong under my hands because I say you do.”

Bela gasped, her dark eyes flashing with a mix of fury and undeniable heat as my body pressed heavy against hers.

For a second, her lips parted beneath mine, her hips lifting slightly off the bed, her body traitorously remembering the deep intimacy we had shared hours ago.

I forced myself to pull back before I lost control and took her right there on the mattress.

I stood up, adjusting my suit jacket, masking the intense hunger burning in my chest behind a cold, unreadable expression.

“If you keep me here,” Bela whispered, sitting up and glaring at me with raw resolve, “you will have to watch me every single second. Because I will break every lock in this place to get away from you.”

“I’ll just buy stronger locks,” I replied flatly.

I turned on my heel and walked out of the bedroom, pulling the heavy oak door shut behind me.

I walked back into the main lounge, the cold wind from the open terrace cooling the heat under my collar.

I poured myself two fingers of dark scotch from the crystal decanter, swallowing the amber liquid in one quick gulp.

Before I could set the glass back down, my encrypted phone vibrated sharply against my hip.

I pulled it out, answering on the first ring. “Speak.”

“Don Sebastian, we have an emergency,” Matteo’s voice came through the line, tight and laced with panic.

I froze, my grip tightening on the glass until the crystal creaked under my fingers. “What happened?”

“Our lookouts near the Southern shipping docks just intercepted an encrypted wire from a local crew,” Matteo reported quickly. “Someone outside our syndicate was watching the nightclub last night.”

My blood turned to pure ice. “Who?”

“We don't have a name yet, Boss,” Matteo said, his breath hitching over the line. “But someone is asking questions about a cocktail waitress with long burgundy hair. They are offering a five-million-euro bounty for her current location.”

A dark, lethal silence filled the quiet lounge.

“The chatter is tracking back to the old Southern syndicates,” Matteo added, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. “The ones who allied with Don Bernardo seven years ago. They don't think she is a simple maid, Don. They think the Dela Costa heiress is still alive.”

I ended the call without another word, slamming the phone onto the glass table.

I turned around slowly, staring down the long, dark corridor toward the bedroom where Bela was locked inside.

I had brought her to this penthouse to shield her from the mob war, to keep her hidden under my hands, and to satisfy the possessive obsession that had consumed my soul for a year.

Now, the game had changed.

The disguise was cracking. The shadow of her past had caught up to us, and the very executioners she had faked her death to escape were already beating down the doors of Milan.