CHAPTER 6

Dahlia’s POV

The faint rattle of the door handle. My heart stopped. My head whipped toward the sound, my pulse thundering in my ears. The door pushed open, slow but certain, and he walked in.

Luca Romano.

He was no longer in his sharp black suit jacket. Instead, he wore only his white shirt and black slacks. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, his throat bare where the top buttons had been undone. But that wasn’t what made my blood run cold.

It was the stains.

Dark, deep red patches spread across his shirt—smeared over his chest, splattered faintly on his sleeve, even a spot near his collar. Blood. My stomach dropped. My hands went numb. He wasn’t limping. His skin wasn’t torn. No wound marked his body. Which meant… the blood wasn’t his.

A wave of terror washed over me, leaving me rooted to the floor.

His eyes locked on mine instantly, sharp and piercing. There was no softness in his stare, no warmth, nothing human that I could cling to. I felt like a rabbit cornered by a wolf, and he could see it. He could see the fear written all over me.

His gaze dropped briefly to my gown. Still perfectly in place. Not a strap fallen, not the zipper lowered. His jaw tightened. The faintest twitch of his mouth told me everything before he even spoke.

When his eyes lifted back to mine, they were cold—colder than the walls, colder than the shadows that seemed to move closer around me.

His voice cut through the air like a blade, deep and sharp.

“Why,” he asked slowly, each word hard and merciless, “are you not naked… waiting for me… like I told you to?”

The sound of his voice made my stomach churn. It wasn’t a question—it was a threat wrapped in words. My knees wobbled, and I had to grip the side of my gown to keep myself from collapsing right there on the floor.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My lips trembled, parting uselessly, my throat so dry it felt like sandpaper. Words—any words—raced in my mind, but none of them seemed enough. What excuse could I give him? What could I possibly say that would calm the storm in his eyes? Deep down, I already knew the answer—nothing. Nothing I said would soften the sharp edge in his voice or the cold fury in his gaze.

The silence between us stretched, thick and suffocating. My chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, my pulse hammering so loudly it echoed in my ears. He took a step closer—slow, deliberate—and it was as if the ground tilted beneath me.

When he reached me, his scent hit me first—sharp cologne mixed with the metallic tang of blood. My stomach turned, and then he leaned in, his lips so close to my ear that I could feel his breath brush against my skin. His voice was low, dangerous, and rough enough to scrape against my bones.

“Undress,” he growled. “So I can see what I paid for… Dahlia.”

The sound of my name on his lips froze me completely. My heart dropped into my stomach, my body going stiff like stone. My eyes went wide in shock, and a sharp gasp tore from my throat before I could stop it. He knew. He knew I wasn’t Denise.

And then the words sank in fully—I wasn’t just his bride. I was something he had bought. Paid for.

My knees almost gave out under me. My father… my own father had sold me.

A dark, humorless chuckle escaped Luca’s mouth, the sound cold and mocking, as though my horror was some kind of amusement to him. He stepped back, his eyes never leaving mine, and crossed the room with slow, unhurried movements, like a predator circling prey that had nowhere to run. He lowered himself onto a sleek black couch in the corner of the room, stretching an arm across the backrest, his posture calm, almost casual. But the weight of his gaze pinned me in place like chains.

“Don’t tell me,” he said in a mocking drawl, “you really didn’t know?”

I swallowed hard, but my throat was still too dry to speak. My voice wouldn’t come out. My silence seemed to entertain him even more.

He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes sharp and cruel as they held mine. “Your father offered me one of his daughters in exchange for wiping out his debt.”

My stomach lurched, and finally, my voice came out in a whisper, so small and weak I almost didn’t recognize it as my own. “What… what debts?”

His jaw tightened, and the amusement in his face slipped, replaced with something harder. “Millions,” he said flatly, his tone cold as ice. “He stole from me. Took money that wasn’t his, and thought I wouldn’t notice. If he hadn’t offered me one of you Rivera girls, I’d have put a bullet in every one of your family’s heads. Your mother. Your sisters. Him too.”

The room spun. I felt my knees tremble so badly that I had to grip the edge of the bedpost to keep myself upright. My father. The man who was supposed to protect me. The man who raised me. He had stolen from this monster… and instead of protecting his daughters, he had bartered one away like property. Like cattle.

I wanted to scream, but my voice was gone. My whole body felt cold and hot all at once, my mind reeling, trying to make sense of the truth slamming into me.

Luca leaned back against the couch again, watching every flicker of emotion on my face like it was a show for his entertainment. His lips curved into a thin smile. “I knew Denise would run,” he said calmly, as though he had been expecting it all along. “She never had the spine for this life. I was curious what excuse your family would come up with. And then…” His eyes narrowed, glinting with something unreadable. “You walked down the aisle. Not her. You.”

I shook my head slightly, my lips parting, but I still couldn’t find words. My thoughts were a storm.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice,” he continued, his voice low and taunting. “But I knew the moment I saw you that you weren’t Denise. I let it play out because I wanted to see how far your father’s lies would go.”

His eyes darkened as his smile vanished. He straightened in his seat, his voice snapping like a whip.

 “Now…” he said coldly, every syllable slicing through the silence. “Take off your dress. Get on that bed. And spread your legs.”

The words hit me like a knife to the chest. My whole body went rigid. My breath caught in my throat and my lungs felt too tight to pull in air. My heart was slamming so hard against my ribs I thought it might break through. For the first time in my life, I finally understood what it meant to be trapped—cornered with no way out.

My fingers shook as I reached behind me for the zipper of my dress. I could barely grip it, my hand was trembling so badly. It felt like every tooth of the zipper screamed in the silence as I dragged it down slowly. The fabric slipped from my shoulders, sliding over my skin until it pooled around my feet on the floor. Cold air rushed over me and I shivered, left standing in just my bra and panties.

I could feel his eyes on me. Watching. Waiting. Judging. My skin crawled under the weight of that gaze.