Chapter 3

I couldn't shake it off no matter how hard I tried.

My father's cold dead eyes stared at me

Blood splattering across the warehouse floor.

Lorenzo's voice barking orders somewhere behind me.

Then the gunshot.

And another.

Chaos.

Screaming.

I remember dropping to my knees.

I remember reaching for my father.

I remember Lorenzo catching me before I hit the ground.

Then nothing.

My eyes fly open.

For a moment, I can't breathe.

The warehouse is gone.

The blood is gone.

But the horror remains.

I sit up sharply, panic crashing through me.

Why am I alive?

The last thing I remember is my father dying.

The last thing I remember is Lorenzo carrying me away while the world burned behind us.

My pulse thunders in my ears as I look around.

Stone walls.

A king-size bed, a steel door to remind me of my fate, no window, and no means of escape.

The answer settles in my stomach like a stone.

Lorenzo

I sit up too fast.

Pain explodes behind my eyes.

The last thing I remember is Lorenzo’s voice in my ear.

"Let’s see how obedient you are now."

My stomach twists.

I look down. I’m wearing one of his shirts.

White. It was huge on me.

The realization sends heat rushing through my face because I know exactly what that means.

He changed my clothes.

My pulse jumps as I shove myself off the narrow bed. The room is small, bare, no windows.

Just a steel door and a camera blinking red in the corner.

Of course.

He’s watching.

“You asshole,” I whisper.

The speaker crackles immediately.

“Good. You’re awake.”

My breath catches.

That voice is calm, and dangerous.

I spin toward the camera instinctively, my chest tightening.

“Lorenzo.”

A low chuckle vibrates through the speaker.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I hate you.”

“Mm.” He sounds amused.

“And yet you still wore my favorite dress when you ran away.”

My face burns.

Damn him.

Damn him for noticing things like that.

“I didn’t run away,” I snap. “I escaped.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Silence stretches between us.

Heavy.

I hate how his silence always feels louder than shouting.

Then the lock clicks.

The door swings open slowly.

And there he is.

Lorenzo De Luca fills the doorway like sin wrapped in expensive fabric. Black dress shirt. Dark slacks. Sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing tattooed forearms.

Beautiful.

Terrifying.

His eyes drag over me lazily before he steps inside and shuts the door behind him.

Too close.

The room suddenly feels smaller.

My body reacts instantly, heart racing, breath uneven.

"Traitor." I curse myself internally.

“You drugged me,” I say quietly.

“You lied to me,” he replies.

Something feel off, His voice isn’t angry, that scares me more.

Angry Lorenzo destroys cities.

Calm Lorenzo destroys people slowly.

I lift my chin. “You called me a whore.”

“And that justified this little performance?” He tilts his head slightly.

“Tell me, Isabella. Did you enjoy making me hunt for you?”

I flinch because the answer is ugly.

Part of me did.

Part of me wanted proof that he cared enough to come.

His jaw tightens like he already knows.

God, he always knows.

“You abandoned me first,” I whisper.

Something dangerous flashes across his face.

In two strides, he’s standing directly in front of me.

I suck in a breath.

“You think I abandoned you?” he murmurs.

“You said I meant nothing.”

“You were listening to a conversation not meant for you.”

I laugh bitterly. “Right. Because hearing the man you love call you his whore is such a misunderstanding.”

The second the word leaves my mouth, silence crashes between us.

Love.

Oh God.

I didn’t mean to say that.

Lorenzo goes completely still.

His eyes lock onto mine with terrifying intensity.

I step back instinctively.

He steps forward.

“You love me?” he asks softly.

I hate how weak I suddenly feel.

“No.”

A lie.

His mouth curves slightly.

Predatory.

“Liar.”

Before I can react, he grabs my wrist and yanks me against him.

Heat slams into me instantly.

I gasp.

His hand slides around my throat, not squeezing, just holding. Controlling.

My body melts anyway.

Pathetic.

“You fake your kidnapping.” His voice drops lower. “You threaten yourself on a burner phone.” His thumb brushes my pulse.

“You call your father instead of me.”

Pain slices through my chest at the reminder.

My father.

Dead.

Killed in front of me.

I swallow hard.

“He was supposed to come for me,” I whisper.

Lorenzo studies me quietly.

“And now you know better.”

Tears sting my eyes, humiliating and unwanted.

I look away quickly.

His grip loosens slightly.

That tiny bit of gentleness almost breaks me more than cruelty would.

“I waited two years,” I whisper. “Every day, I thought maybe he’d keep his promise.”

Lorenzo’s jaw tightens.

“He sold you to save himself.”

“I know that now.”

“No.” His voice hardens.

“You knew it then. You just didn’t want to believe it.”

The truth lands like a slap because he’s right.

A part of me always knew.

I just wanted someone to choose me.

My father didn’t.

And apparently, neither did Lorenzo.

I shove against his chest suddenly.

“Why do you even care? You had women everywhere. You could’ve replaced me in a second.”

Something dark flickers across his face.

“Is that what you think?”

“I saw them.”

“You saw distractions.”

The answer hits harder than it should.

His fingers tighten briefly around my waist before he abruptly lets me go and steps back.

Distance.

Coldness.

There it is again.

That invisible wall he keeps rebuilding between us.

“You betrayed me, Isabella,” he says flatly.

“Did you really expect things to go back to normal?”

“There was never anything normal about us.”

“No.” His eyes darken. “There wasn’t.”

The room goes quiet again.

Then his phone buzzes.

He checks the screen.

And for the first time since entering the room, his expression changes.

Sharp.

Deadly.

Without a word, he turns toward the door.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“Business.”

Something about the way he says it makes unease curl in my stomach.

“What business?”

He pauses at the doorway.

Then slowly looks back at me.

“You weren’t the only one spying, cara mia.”

My blood runs cold.

“What does that mean?”

A slow smile spreads across his face.

The kind that usually comes before bloodshed.

“It means,” he says softly, “someone inside my organization helped you disappear.”

My stomach drops.

No.

No, that’s impossible.

I planned everything myself.

"Didn’t I?"

Lorenzo watches realization spread across my face.

And suddenly I understand.

This isn’t over.

Not even close.

“There’s a traitor in my house,” he says quietly.

“And thanks to your little stunt...” His eyes lock onto mine. “Now they know exactly how much you matter to me.”

Fear slithers down my spine.

Because Lorenzo doesn’t sound angry anymore.

He sounds afraid, just for a second, just long enough for me to notice.

Then it disappears.

The monster returns.

He steps out and locks the door behind him.

I rush toward it immediately, banging my fists against the steel.

“Lorenzo!”

No answer.

“Lorenzo!”

Silence.

My chest rises and falls hard as panic creeps in.

A traitor.

Someone close to him.

Someone who knows about me.

The camera light blinks once in the corner.

And he is back to watching me.

And suddenly, for the first time since I met Lorenzo De Luca...

I realize there are things far more dangerous than him.