Chapter 5 – The Gilded Cage (ii)

Elena's POV 

“I’m not scared of you.”

“No,” he says, voice softer now. “You’re scared of what this place will turn you into.”

He hops off the counter like he didn’t just tear through stitches, moving in close again, slow enough that I could back away but too deliberate to call it a threat.

“But you’ll adapt,” he murmurs. “Everyone does.”

“I’m not everyone,” I snap.

He smiles, this time with teeth. “No. You’re mine.”

The words settle in the room like smoke—thick, invasive, impossible to ignore.

I open my mouth to argue, to tell him exactly what the fuck he’s not entitled to, but he cuts me off by stepping even closer, crowding my space like he’s daring me to flinch.

“So,” I start, sharper than I intend, just to push back against whatever the hell that was. “What now? You keep me locked in this house until I start taking orders like one of your soldiers?”

He doesn’t blink. “Something like that.”

I fold my arms, ignoring the way his eyes drop just low enough to make it clear he notices everything. “This is illegal. You know that, right?”

He laughs once, the sound low and rough. “Sweetheart, I passed illegal a long fucking time ago.”

I narrow my eyes. “Then what do you even need me for? You’ve got a castle, an army, a full medical suite—what am I doing here?”

His grin comes slow and mean, like he’s been waiting for the question. “I’ve got a problem, and you’re the solution.”

“Lucky me,” I mutter.

He steps back, adjusting the waistband of his pants with one hand while the other stays loose at his side, all casual like we’re just chatting in some normal world that doesn’t have guns and blood and locked doors. “My visa expired. Years ago.”

I stare at him, thrown off. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Nope,” he says, popping the P like it’s nothing. “Feds are sniffing too close. Someone's leaking intel. If they dig deep enough, I vanish—or I burn everything I’ve built. Neither’s an option.”

“And this involves me how?” I ask, but I already feel the answer coming.

His eyes find mine, calm as ever. “You’re going to fix it.”

I take a slow step back. “No. You’re not serious.”

He doesn’t chase me, just keeps talking like we’re still on the same page. “You’re clean. American. You’ve got a legit job, no criminal record, no ties. You’re exactly what I need.”

“Dante—”

“We’re getting married, Elena.”

I blink. Hard. “The fuck we are.”

He tilts his head, completely unfazed. “You’re gonna smile. Sign what I give you. Play the sweet little wife until this shit blows over.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “You’ve lost your fucking mind.”

“No,” he says, stepping close again. “I’m not insane, I’m strategic. You walked into my world, patched me up, and kept your mouth shut. That makes you useful. And I don’t waste what’s useful.”

“I’m not your goddamn bride,” I snap, my voice rising.

He leans in, lowering his mouth to my ear like he’s delivering a threat wrapped in silk. “Forty-eight hours. That’s all you’ve got. Then I put a ring on your finger, and your name on my papers.”

I shove him back instinctively, but he doesn’t even stumble—he just smiles like he expected it.

“I’d rather rot,” I say.

He leans in again, close enough for his breath to graze my neck, hot and deliberate.

“Then rot in my bed, with my cock inside you, while everyone calls you Mrs. Volkov.”

I freeze.

His voice drops lower, rougher. “Or don’t. I don’t give a fuck if you like it. Just say ‘I do’ when the time comes, and keep your mouth shut the rest of the time.”

I swallow hard, but my throat’s dry. “You can’t force me.”

He finally pulls back, smirking. “You think I haven’t?”

He turns and walks to the door like the conversation’s over, dragging the last word behind him like a leash.

“Try to look happy.”

To Be Continued...