Ch 5

Alessandro’s POV

My father’s estate sits like a scar carved deep into the hills, grand, ancient, centered around a vast amount of acres and bleeding power from every stone. It doesn’t welcome you. It devours you. I’ve seen kings of concrete and empire step past those iron gates and crumble into stuttering fools under my father’s gaze.

The air grows heavier inside these walls, denser, and harder to breathe. Like it knows you don’t belong here.

I grew up in that weight. Every cold marble floor, every echoing silence taught me how to starve the softness out of myself. But even now, even forged in his image, I still feel it. That pulse of dread when I cross the threshold. Because no matter how far I rise, I’ve never outrun the man who raised me like a blade.

And today, I’ve brought Rue into the lion’s den.

She walks beside me like she belongs. Chin high, lips pressed tight, trying to make her fear invisible. But I hear it, the betrayal in her breath, the hitch in her step. Instinct knows what the mind won’t admit this place is a tomb dressed in wealth. And she’s not built for tombs.

“You’ll speak only if spoken to,” I tell her, adjusting the cuff of my jacket more for control than show. “He doesn’t like wasted words. And he is not a man to test.”

Why warn her? Why bother? She’s here to be burned.

She doesn’t answer me. Of course not. But her eyes slide to mine, dark and defiant, that silent fuck you flickering behind her lashes. Stubborn little thing. She thinks silence is strength. That she’s still playing the game. But her body? Her body surrendered the first time I touched her. I felt it then, and I feel it now.

She’s not strong, she is deliciously breakable.

And I hate her for that.

I hate her mouth, the way it tries to make war.

I hate her skin, how it begs me to press my victory into it.

I hate that I brought her here. And I hate that I want her broken.

My father isn’t like me.

He doesn’t bruise with fists or stain floors with blood. He kills with silence and carves obedience with a look. Once he’s inside your mind, violence would feel like mercy.

And I fear him. He is the only man I fear.

So why bring Rue?

Because I need her to be proof.

That even though she claws her way under my skin, I can sacrifice her. That I haven’t gone soft. That nothing, not even her can own me.

She is a vial of silent disobedience. Small, defiant, and breakable.

We step into the house.

The foyer is colder than any grave. Not because of the architecture, no, this house is cold because warmth was never invited here. My father designed it to suffocate anything human.

Luca trails a few steps behind, hand near his gun. Always ready. Always waiting.

He knows what this place does to people.

Maybe he’s right to be prepared.

Maybe I just led Rue into her final test.

She thinks she’s here for a debt. That this is about her father’s pathetic choices.

But this is about me.

About what I’m willing to do to prove I’m still my father’s son.

I push open the heavy door to his study. I don't knock, he doesn’t need it, he already knows when to expect me.

He’s already waiting.

He always is.

He sits at the head of the long mahogany table like a king with no need for ceremony. Posture perfect. Face carved in stone. His hair is streaked with silver, but his eyes haven’t dulled. They’re the same glacial knives that shaped my childhood.

His gaze cuts through Rue in a single sweep.

She flinches, but barely he sees it. He always does.

“Is this the girl?” he asks. No greeting. No emotion.

“She’s paying the debt,” I answer.

“I asked if this was the girl,” he repeats, sharper. “Not what she owes”

“Yes.”

He rises slowly, deliberately. Like he’s giving the room permission to fear him. Every step he takes tightens the air. Rue doesn’t move, she doesn’t shrink.

But I feel it, her pulse, her fear, and the electricity under her skin. He circles her like a hawk measuring the worth of its next kill.

“What’s your name, girl?”

“Rue.” Steady. Too steady.

He raises a brow. “Not afraid?”

“I’ve had worse things stare me down.”

Fucking hell.

That mouth again.

I feel it, rage and heat crawling up my spine. She’s going to die with that mouth on her.

And still, I want it on me.

“You’ve got a tongue on you,” my father says.

“She knows when to use it,” I mutter.

His gaze cuts to mine. Cold and precise. And there it is, the disappointment that shaped my bones.

“She’s already under your skin,” he murmurs. “You don’t even hear yourself.”

“She’s not a threat to me. She’s a just tool.”

Rue looks at me like I spat in her face. Maybe I did, but I don’t care.

“She’s a distraction,” my father snaps. “You brought her here, into my house. That’s emotion, not strategy.”

“She’s not weak, as you can already see.”

He scoffs. “Everyone bleeds. Some just die quieter.”

And then Rue steps forward.

Of course, she does.

“I’m not a distraction,” she says, voice like flame. “I’m here to pay what is owed. I don’t care what you think of me.”

His face stills. “You don’t care what I think? You don’t care what I think of you? You’re standing in front of the man who built this kingdom with his bare hands, and you dare say you don’t care?”

“I don’t care,” she lies. Her throat tightens, but she doesn’t blink.

And fuck me, I feel it in my cock. That need to ruin her pride and reward it in the same breath.

“She doesn’t mean disrespect,” I say, stepping between them. Her scent hits me. Heat, anger, and fire. “She is untamed,” I add.

“She’s dangerous,” my father replies. “That kind of wildness softens men like you.”

His eyes bore into me. “I see care in your eyes. Do you even recognize yourself anymore?”

I do. But he is wrong, it's not care I feel, it's something darker.

Because every violent thing in me wants to drag Rue home and tear her apart with my teeth and tongue, until she’s trembling, gasping my name like it’s the only one she knows.

“She won’t come between what I need to do,” I say to him

“She already has,” he hisses. “You brought her here, you let her walk free, let her speak in my house. You let her live.”

His eyes rake her one more time. “You think you’ve won something, girl? You think my son’s hunger gives you power?”

Rue stays silent this time. Smart, she is learning.

He steps back. Judgment passed.

“You’ll prove your worth,” he tells her. “Or I’ll scatter your bones in the garden.”

Then, to me, colder than death: “And if she weakens you, I’ll break her first. And then I’ll break whatever is left of you.”

He walks away.

And just like that, she survives her first audience.

Rue exhales beside me. “Holy shit,” she whispers. And then starts to shake.

I keep my voice flat. “I told you not to speak unless spoken to.”

“I was spoken to,” she snaps. She is already clearly frustrated, in no time, she will be broken. “What was I supposed to do, kneel and purr? I don't want to be in this stupid place. I never asked to be here. I have a life! Let me get to my life. It will be easy to pay you then”

I look at her. Really look at her. I had only been I interested in her because she thinks she is strong. But now I want to break her and then mend her up. She is not escaping me, I'm not letting her go.

“You made a mistake bringing me here,” she murmurs.

“No,” I say. “I just gambled that you wouldn’t get us both killed.”

Her eyes widen. “So this was a bet? Is a person’s life only a joke to you? Just kill me already if this is what you want because I will never make anything easy for you”

“And ruin all the fun, piccolina?” he murmurs, leaning in until his breath licks the heat blooming across my skin. “You’re mine now, Rue. Every inch of you. And you will learn how to kneel.”

“Once you’re done parading that pretty little pride of yours, you’ll be on your knees, begging for my hands. Don’t lie to yourself, piccolina, you want to know exactly how it feels when I finally let you have me”

She doesn't reply, she just stares at me, shocked to the core. Her lips part but nothing comes out.

We head for the car in silence. At the door, she hesitates.

“Does your father even love you?” she asks. Judgment in her voice.

My hand freezes on the handle. “No,” I say, turning to face her. “He respects me.” Then I open the door and climb in. I don't care about love.

“Luca,” I say coolly, Luka in the driver's seat “Book a priest and a venue.”

He blinks in the mirror. “Sir?”

“We’re getting married in an hour.”