FRACTURE

The next morning, Aria didn’t wait for Luca to come to her.

She stormed into his study, bare feet sinking into the thick carpet, heart pounding like a war drum.

He sat behind his massive desk, sleeves rolled up, tie discarded, a pen twirling lazily between his fingers as he scanned a contract.

When he looked up, one brow arched.

“Aria.”

She ignored the warning in his tone.

“I want to talk about school.”

His gaze dragged over her, slow and maddening, stripping her bare even in leggings and a sweatshirt.

“School?”

“Yes.” Her chin lifted. “I want to finish my degree. Part-time, online, even one class a semester. I won’t sit here and rot.”

“You’re not rotting.”

“Really?” She folded her arms tight across her chest. “This isn’t living. I’m a prisoner with better sheets and a locked door. Half the time, I don’t even know what day it is.”

“You have everything you need,” he said evenly. “Doctors. Food. Security.”

She let out a harsh laugh. “Security? You mean guards to keep me from running?”

His eyes sharpened. “Don’t start this again.”

“I’m not starting anything,” she shot back. “I’m telling you what I need my parents, my books, my laptop. Something for my brain before it turns to dust.”

He set the pen down. “No.”

The word sliced through her.

“Why?” she demanded. “I’m not asking to run, Luca. I’m asking to live.”

“Because it’s not safe.”

“For who?” She slammed her palms on the desk, leaning across until they were almost nose to nose. “For you or for me?”

His jaw twitched. “For both of us.”

Heat rose in her chest. She wanted to slap him—or kiss him until he drowned in her fury.

Instead, she spat the words like venom. “You think you own me, Luca Cross. But you don’t. Not all of me.”

He stood slowly, the chair scraping back. He didn’t touch her. Didn’t raise his voice.

He just looked at her like he wanted to break something or himself.

“You’ll see your parents when I say it’s safe. You’ll finish your degree when I decide you’re ready. This isn’t a negotiation.”

“Then I’ll find a way myself.”

He gave a short, bitter laugh. “Try it.”

He brushed past her, leaving the door wide open like an insult.

And that was his mistake.

Aria slid into his chair, flipping open the laptop. Passwords. Of course.

She tried her name. His. Her birthday. Nothing.

Her eyes darted to his phone on the desk. She grabbed it, thumb hovering then a message flashed across the screen:

Security will tighten if she keeps pushing.

Her blood ran cold.

Who was he talking to? His lawyer? The guards?

She dropped the phone like it burned her. Her pulse thundered.

If not his devices, then another way.

She crept back to her room, pacing.

Sneakers sat buried in the closet, a gift from Maria she’d never worn.

She tugged them on, fingers shaking. The door would be guarded.

But the terrace… the narrow balcony wrapped around the penthouse. And beyond it, a maintenance ladder clung to the building’s side.

She shoved the window open. Cold wind slapped her face.

Her fingers hovered on the glass latch.

If she slipped, no one would even hear her scream. But staying felt worse than falling.

She swung one leg over the sill, then the other.

Forty floors of steel and glass dropped below.

Freedom waited at the bottom.

Her hand reached for the metal rung—

And never made it.

Strong arms yanked her back so hard she slammed into a solid chest.

She screamed, kicking and flailing, but he dragged her inside.

They hit the carpet in a tangle of limbs and curses.

Luca pinned her wrists, breath ragged against her ear.

“What the f*ck were you doing?”

“Let me go!” she sobbed, thrashing. “I hate you… I hate you!”

“You want to die?” His voice cracked like a whip. “You think jumping off a building is freedom?”

“I wasn’t going to jump!” she screamed. “I was going to climb down!”

He gave a jagged laugh. “You’re insane.”

She spat in his face.

He froze.

For a heartbeat, she thought he’d strike her.

Instead, he leaned close, his whisper hot and shaking against her ear.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

“Or what?” she hissed. “You’ll chain me to the bed?”

His grip faltered just enough for her to rip one hand free.

She slapped him hard, the sound echoing in the room.

She tried again, but he caught her wrist, pressing her palm to his chest where his heart hammered wild and uneven.

“You think I don’t care?” His voice was raw. “You think you’re just an investment to me?”

“Aren’t I?”

His forehead dropped to hers, breath uneven.

“You think I want you to hate me? You think this is easy for me?”

Her sob broke free.

“Then let me see them. Let me study. Give me something that’s mine.”

His eyes searched hers dark, unguarded, breaking.

He kissed her then, bruising and desperate, like two storms colliding.

She tasted the tremor in his hands as they cupped her face.

When he pulled back, his thumb brushed her lip.

“One class. That’s all you get, for now.”

Her breath hitched. “And my parents?”

His eyes hardened. “Soon.”

“When?” she whispered.

He pressed his lips to her forehead, voice barely a breath.

“Soon.”

She didn’t trust him.

But for the first time, she saw fear in his eyes—

Fear that no matter how many locks he set, he might still lose her.

And that almost made her stay.