Chapter 4 — The Rules of Captivity

Seb

FOR THREE years, I carried a piece of scorched metal in my pocket—the only remnant recovered from the vehicle explosion that supposedly claimed her life.

The family called it a t ragedy. The syndicate called it closure.

I called it a lie.

“We’ve secured the perimeter, Boss,” Matteo said, stepping into the dim light of my private study.

I didn’t look up from the security monitors displaying the various angles of the penthouse hallway.

On the central screen, Bela was sitting on the edge of the bed, her chin resting in her hands, staring blankly at the floor. The emerald green dress wrinkled around her knees.

“And the staff?” I asked, my voice flat.

“Maria is managing them. They know the penalty for speaking outside these walls.” Matteo hesitated, shifting his weight. “But the men are asking questions, Boss. Why are we keeping her hidden here? If she’s alive, she belongs at the main estate. The Don’s old contracts regarding the Dela Costa line—”

“The Don is dead, Matteo. I run this family now.” I finally looked up, my gaze pinning him to the spot. “No one—not our rivals, not our allies, and especially not Alessandra—needs to know who Bela really is. To the world, she is a ghost. If that ghost walks into the light, the entire syndicate fractures. She stays here.”

Matteo lowered his head. “Understood.”

“Leave us.”

I stood up, the silence of the room settling heavily over my shoulders.

Matteo didn't know the half of it. He thought finding her in that Milan nightclub had been a stroke of chaotic luck. He didn’t know about the private bank accounts I had monitored, the flight manifests I had cross-referenced, or the specific orders I gave to a select few soldiers to ignore the official reports and keep digging.

I had bought this penthouse eight months ago. I had furnished it, reinforced the security, and waited. I knew her better than she knew herself.

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

I walked down the quiet corridor, my hand resting briefly against the heavy oak doors of her bedroom before I turned the lock. The metallic click echoed sharply in the quiet room.

Bela’s head snapped up. Her eyeglasses slid slightly down the bridge of her nose, her long, burgundy curls falling over her shoulders in a wild, tangled mess.

The sight of her tightened something in my chest—a violent surge of possession that I had to force down beneath a mask of absolute calm.

“You’re locking me in now?” she asked, her voice dripping with venom as she stood up from the bed. “What’s next, Seb? Chains?”

“If you make them necessary,” I replied, closing the door behind me. I didn’t lock it this time. The guards outside were weapon enough.

“You’re insane,” she whispered, backing away until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress. “You think you can just keep me here as your secret? You have a fiancée—a Moretti. If she finds out what you’re doing—”

“Alessandra knows exactly what I allow her to know,” I cut her off, stepping into her space until the shadows of the room swallowed her whole. “And she doesn’t know you. No one does. That is rule number one, Bela.”

She let out a bitter, mocking laugh. “Oh, wonderful. We’re laying out rules now.”

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

I reached out, my fingers wrapping firmly around her jaw, forcing her to hold my gaze. Her skin was soft, warm, and entirely alive. The urge to drag her back into the sheets right then, to lose myself in the absolute certainty of her body, was a physical ache.

“You are under my protection,” I continued. “That means you do not leave this penthouse without me. You do not speak to the staff unless it is to ask for food. And if anyone asks who you are, you are an acquaintance of the family. Nothing more.”

Bela didn’t flinch. She grabbed my wrist, her fingers digging into my skin with a strength that surprised me, trying to pry my hand away.

“I am not your protection project, Sebastian,” she spat, her eyes flashing with a dangerous heat. “And I am certainly not your secret whore. I am the last of the Dela Costa line. Your father took me in to hide me, and you’re just continuing the tradition. I won't accept this. The moment your men blink, the moment a door is left unlatched, I am gone.”

My jaw tightened. I leaned down, my face inches from hers, letting her feel the cold finality of my breath.

“You can try,” I murmured against her lips, tasting the defiance rolling off her in waves. “But you won't get past the lobby. I spent a year bleeding out the men who tried to kill you, Bela. I tore Milan apart looking for your remains. Now that I have you back, you don’t get to run twice. You belong in this room because I say you do.”

I released her jaw, but before I could step back, she lunged forward, pressing her hand against my chest. Her touch was an electric shock through the fabric of my shirt.

“If you keep me here, you’ll have to watch me every single second,” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. “Because I will destroy everything in this place to get away from you.”

“I’ll buy more things,” I replied coldly, turning my back on her before the raw desperation in her eyes could break my resolve.

I walked out of the room, the heavy click of the lock sealing her inside once more.

**

THE CLOCK in the main hallway chimed four in the morning when my encrypted phone vibrated against my thigh. I pulled it out, answering before the second ring.

“Speak,” I commanded, walking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows of the lounge.

“Boss, we have a problem,” Matteo’s voice came through the line. “One of our lookouts near the Milan club just checked in. He intercepted a wire from a local crew.”

“And?”

“Someone else was watching the club tonight, Boss. Someone outside our organization. They’ve been asking around about the new cocktail waitress with the burgundy hair. They’re offering a massive bounty for her current location.”

My blood turned to absolute ice. The phone felt heavy in my grip.

“Do they have a name?” I growled.

“Not yet. But the chatter is tracking back to the southern sectors. The old rival syndicates. The ones who wanted the Dela Costa bloodline wiped out a year ago.” Matteo paused, the weight of the implication hanging heavily between us. “They don't think she’s an acquaintance, Boss. They think she's exactly who she is.”

I ended the call without another word, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the phone.

I looked back down the long, dark corridor toward the bedroom where Bela was trapped. I had brought her here to keep her safe, to hide her from the sins of our past, and to satisfy the toxic, unyielding obsession that had consumed me for a year. I wanted to fight her, to break her pride until she admitted she still loved me.

But the game had just changed.

Finding her hadn’t just brought her back into my arms—it had placed a massive, bleeding target directly on her back.

The very enemies she had faked her death to escape were already knocking on the door.