TOUGH WAY OUT

That evening, Aria barely touched her dinner. She sat on the balcony instead, knees drawn to her chest, staring at the city below.

From this height, the people looked like a restless ocean anonymous, free, and nothing like her.

The first signs of pregnancy were impossible to ignore now. Queasiness. Dizziness whenever she stood too fast. And Luca’s eyes were on her watchfully, smug as if he already knew.

He hadn’t touched her since that night. He didn’t need to. His control wrapped around her like an invisible leash, the locked penthouse doors, the guards near the elevator, and Maria’s too-gentle glances.

She’d never been so well-fed, and yet so starved.

“Eat,” Luca said when he found her picking at her food. His voice was calm, but it carried no room for refusal.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Try again.”

He poured a glass of water and set it down, his fingers brushing hers. Even that brief touch sent a rush down her spine, a reminder of everything he had taken… or everything she had given.

“I’m not your prisoner,” she whispered.

His eyebrow twitched, the smallest crack in his mask. “No, Aria. You’re my investment. I protect what’s mine.”

He stood and rounded the table. Before she could move, his hand slid beneath her chin, tilting her face up. His thumb brushed her lower lip so gently it hurt.

“Don’t make me remind you what happens if you break the rules.”

She forced herself to meet his eyes. “I’m carrying your child. What more do you want from me?”

His mouth curved. “Everything.”

Later, in the guest bedroom, the space she pretended was hers, though her belongings were scattered across the penthouse. Aria pulled out her sketchbook.

She hoped the pencil would steady her nerves, but her hands trembled. Every line blurred into smudges.

A knock at the door.

“Come in,” she said, already knowing.

Luca entered, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. His gaze carried that frustrating mix of irritation and something too raw to name.

“Are you going to keep sulking in here like a child?”

“I’m not sulking. I’m trying to breathe.”

He pushed off the wall and moved closer. “You don’t have to fight me every second. You could make this easier on yourself.”

“Easier?” She let out a sharp laugh. “What’s easy about being trapped in your glass tower? About pretending this is normal?”

He sat on the edge of the bed, too close. “This is normal. For me. And if you stopped fighting long enough to see it, you’d realize it could be good for you too.”

“Don’t pretend you care.”

Something flickered in his eyes. “Don’t pretend you don’t want me to.”

His hand brushed her knee, deliberate and slow. Her pulse betrayed her and he felt it.

“You think I enjoy keeping you here like this?” he said, voice low. “I’d rather you wanted to stay.”

“Then let me go.”

His lips twitched, almost a smile. “No.”

Her heart slammed when he leaned close, his breath warm against her neck.

“Stop pretending you don’t like this game, Aria. You want someone to break down those walls you hide behind.”

She shoved him back. “You’re insane.”

He stood, adjusting his cuffs as if her anger meant nothing. “Keep fighting me if you want. Just remember you can’t outrun what you signed up for.”

Then he left her, breathless and furious, wanting to scream at a locked door that wasn’t even locked.

The next morning, her phone appeared on the living room table. She hadn’t seen it in days.

She grabbed it, pulse racing. The thought of calling someone anyone made her hands tremble. But when she unlocked it, the screen was empty.

No contacts. No messages. Only a single note:

Don’t test me.

Luca’s warning burned brighter than any cage.

Maria found her an hour later, still gripping the useless phone.

“You should rest,” she said softly. “It’s not good for you to be so worked up.”

Aria forced a smile. “Has he always been like this?”

Maria hesitated before straightening the pillows on the couch. “Mr. Cross does what he must. He protects what’s his.”

That night, Aria lingered outside Luca’s office again. His voice carried through the door low and sharp.

“If she doesn’t learn to obey,” he said, “she’ll learn to beg.”

Her blood turned cold.

She stumbled back to her room, heart racing. Her parents were safe now because of her. The child inside her tethered her to Luca in ways she could no longer deny.

And for the first time since signing the contract, she wondered if she could survive being loved by a man who claimed her as his most ruthless possession.

A man whose mere presence demanded her attention, whose eyes seemed to see straight through her defenses, and whose touch stirred a longing she wasn’t sure she could control.

Love with him was no gentle thing; it was a storm..dangerous, intoxicating, and all-consuming.

It promised both exquisite devotion and inevitable heartbreak.

And yet, despite the fear coiling in her chest, part of her ached for it for him for the impossible truth that maybe, just maybe, surrendering to him was the only way to truly feel alive.