NO ESCAPE

Aria barely slept. She lay awake long after Luca’s office door clicked shut, replaying every word she’d read on that cruel, clinical page:

“Perfect candidate. Desperate enough to comply. No risk of breach.”

She hated how true it felt, how she’d let herself become exactly that.

By dawn, the city lights had faded to a gray, drizzling sky. She sat at the edge of her new bed, too big, too soft, and stared at her reflection in the mirrored wardrobe. The girl who looked back at her seemed hollowed out already.

No. She wouldn’t let him do this. If she had to give up her body, she’d keep the last scraps of her dignity.

She dressed quickly in black leggings and an old hoodie she’d stuffed in her bag, then crept down the hallway. The penthouse felt too quiet. Even the marble floors muffled her footsteps, as if they were conspiring to keep his secrets.

She found him in the kitchen. Of course, he was already awake.

Luca Cross leaned against the counter, sleeves pushed up, shirt collar open just enough to show the edge of a tattoo on his collarbone. He held a mug of coffee, perfectly still except for the slow drift of steam.

For a moment, she almost forgot what she’d come to say. Then his eyes lifted to hers, and the air shifted.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, voice as smooth as the marble floors.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “We need to talk.”

His eyebrow twitched. “So talk.”

She stepped closer, arms crossed tight. “I’ve changed my mind.”

Something like amusement flickered across his mouth. “About breakfast?”

“About this. All of it,” she shot back. “The contract. The baby. The money. I don’t want it.”

He didn’t move. He just set the mug down on the counter with a soft click that sounded louder than a gunshot.

“No.”

Aria’s throat burned. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want to be trapped here like some livestock. I’ll find another way.”

“You won’t.”

His calmness made her want to scream.

“I’ll tear up the contract. I’ll leave today. You can find another girl. I don’t care.”

“You care,” he cut in, eyes narrowing. “Because you already cashed the first advance.”

Her stomach lurched. “What?”

He reached into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out his phone. A few taps later, he turned it to face her. Her parents’ bail statement glowed on the screen: paid in full, funds cleared, case closed.

Aria’s knees almost buckled. “You… you paid it already?”

“Of course I did,” Luca said, voice like silk wrapped around steel. “You’re mine now, Aria. Did you really think I’d let you run?”

Her fists clenched at her sides. “You can’t own people.”

His lips curved into a smile so cold it made her chest tighten. “Can’t I? That’s the thing about debt. It doesn’t just vanish. It trades hands.”

She flinched as if he’d struck her. “I didn’t agree to be”

“You did,” he murmured. “In ink. In your blood, if necessary.”

Silence buzzed in her ears. She looked at the floor—the expensive tiles that probably cost more than her old apartment’s rent for a year. No way out. The words on his card felt like shackles now.

“What happens if I run?” she whispered.

His answer was quiet, almost casual, and terrified her more than a shout could have. “Your parents’ bail is tied to you fulfilling this agreement. If you break it, they go back to jail. And you still owe me the fifty thousand.”

Her lungs stuttered around a sob. “You’re a monster.”

He stepped closer, until she could smell his cologne…sharp, expensive, threaded with something warm she hated herself for noticing.

His hand lifted, knuckles grazing her jaw so lightly it sent heat skittering down her spine.

“I’m practical,” he murmured. “I protect what’s mine.”

His touch lingered a second too long. Her skin prickled under it, a humiliating mix of fury and something she refused to name.

She slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed.

Luca only laughed softly, dangerously. “You agreed to be touched, sweetheart. You agreed to carry something far more intimate than my hand on your skin.”

Her stomach twisted. She wanted to hit him. To run. But her feet wouldn’t move, as if the floor itself had fused to her soles.

“What if I never get pregnant?” she spat, desperate now. “You can’t force biology.”

He tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle he’d already solved. “You’ll conceive, Aria. You’re healthy. Young. Perfect.”

That word again, perfect. It felt like poison now.

She shoved past him, the scent of him clinging to her like an accusation. “I hate you.”

His low voice followed her down the hall. “You’ll come to see this differently.”

She locked herself in her room, sinking to the floor as the dawn light bled through the curtains. Her phone buzzed with an email from her parents’ lawyer: Case closed. Thank you, Aria. You saved us.

She should have felt relief. Instead, she curled up on the floor, pressing her fist to her mouth to stifle the scream rising in her chest.

Hours blurred. Maria brought her breakfast on a tray. She didn’t touch it. Her mind spun with escape plans, none of them real. How could she leave? She’d damn her parents if she tried.

By late afternoon, she’d worn a path across the rug, pacing like a caged animal. The penthouse felt smaller by the minute walls pressing in, windows showing a city she couldn’t run to. She was just the girl he’d hunted down. The girl was too poor to fight back.

A knock startled her. Maria stepped in, eyes kind but pitying.

“Mr. Cross asked if you’d join him in the lounge.”

Aria’s chest squeezed. She almost said no but what choice did she have? She wasn’t ready to face him. She’d never be ready.

The lounge looked like a magazine spread: velvet sofas, a fireplace that crackled even in the warm spring air. Luca stood by the windows, phone to his ear, barking orders in another language that rolled off his tongue like a threat.

He ended the call without looking at her. “You look like hell,” he said dryly.

She bristled. “I’d rather look like hell than like you.”

A flicker of something crossed his face..a smirk, or maybe surprise. He stepped closer, closing the distance until she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.

“Say it again,” he murmured.

She clenched her fists. “I’m not your pet. I’m not your toy. I’m not”

His hand caught her chin, forcing her to hold his gaze. His grip was gentle. Too gentle. It made her pulse spike for all the wrong reasons.

“You belong to me, Aria,” he said, voice low, a promise and a threat all at once. “And the sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”

“I’ll never accept it,” she spat.

His thumb brushed her lower lip so lightly she almost didn’t feel it but her body did, traitorously. Her heart thundered against her ribs.

“Liar,” he murmured.

Heat flushed her cheeks. She hated him. She hated him so much she could taste it. But her knees weakened under his touch.

He let her go with a soft, mocking laugh. “Go on, rebel. It won’t change a thing.”

Aria stumbled back, breath ragged. She should’ve slapped him. She should’ve run.

Instead, she stood there, trembling, his scent still clinging to her skin.

“Tomorrow, we have your first appointment,” he said, voice already distant as he turned away. “Don’t be late.”

She fled to her room, slamming the door so hard a picture frame rattled off the wall. She pressed her back to it, heart pounding, lips still tingling where his thumb had grazed.

She told herself she’d do anything to save her family. But no one warned her what it would cost her to hate him… and hate that some small, twisted part of her didn’t hate the way his touch made her want more.