Chapter Three — Tangled Threads.

Alexandria’s POV

Matteo stood in the doorway for a long moment, his broad frame silhouetted against the hallway light. His expression confuses me.

 He didn’t say anything about what had happened between us—just the order, delivered in that low, commanding voice.

“Get some sleep,” he said. “And don't leave this room" He added as the door clicked shut behind him, and I was alone again in the vast east room. I stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, the white sheets rumpled beneath me.

 My body still throbbed with the memory of him—rough hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, the way he’d taken what he wanted without asking. Brutal but possessive.

 The brief pause where his dark eyes had lingered on mine, like he was seeing past the debt and the complication.

It confused me. It angered me. And worst of all, it pulled at something deep inside that I didn’t want to name.

I envied Giulia. The thought made my stomach twist with shame, but it was true. She was his wife; elegant, composed, the one who got to stand beside him at galas and wear his ring.

 I was just the girl from the wrong door, the one he fucked in secret like a dirty secret. Yet here I was, aching for more of his touch even as fear coiled in my chest.

I lay back slowly, still thinking of us. Ooh Alex, is there really an us? I didn't answer that question. I just shoved it coiled.

The penthouse was oppressively quiet, many floors above a city that felt a million miles away. Sleep wouldn’t come. My mind kept replaying every second.

 His weight pinning me, the sting of his grip, that rare flicker of almost-gentleness afterward. What kind of man could be both monster and something almost human in the same breath?

My phone sat on the bedside table. It had rung earlier—Priya—but I hadn’t answered. I’d let it go to voicemail, too raw to speak.

Now, in the silence, it started vibrating again. I ignored it for three rings, then four. On the fifth, I grabbed it.

“Hey Priya,” I whispered, pressing the phone to my ear.

“Alexandria! Finally! I’ve called you like ten times. What the hell is going on? One minute you’re at the club, the next you vanish.

 I went looking near that grey door and it was locked tight. Talk to me.”

Her voice was frantic, laced with worry and anger. I closed my eyes, pulling my knees up to my chest.

“I’m at Matteo Bellini’s penthouse,”

I said quietly.

“He… he took me after I walked in on something I shouldn’t have seen. There was blood, Priya. A man on the floor. Matteo caught me, and now I’m here.”

The line went dead silent for a beat. Then she exploded.

“Matteo Bellini? Are you fucking kidding me? The Matteo Bellini? Alexandria, this isn’t a game. His family owns half the shadows in this city. Did he hurt you? I swear to God, if he laid a hand on you..."

“He did,” I cut in softly, my voice catching.

“But it’s complicated. Rough… really rough. But he wasn’t all monster.

 There were moments where he almost seemed… I don’t know. Different. His wife is here too. Giulia. She looks at him like she’s scared but she stays.”

Priya let out a string of curses.

“I’m so mad at you right now. Not because this is your fault—you couldn’t do anything against a man like him. He’s dangerous, connected, and you’re just… you.

 But damn it, Alexandria, you sound almost calm about this. Like you’re processing it instead of screaming for help.”

“I am scared,” I admitted, glancing toward the locked door. “Terrified. But panicking won’t change anything.

He said my dad owes him a fortune. Over three hundred thousand euros. That’s why he’s keeping me. Leverage.”

Priya breathed heavily on the other end.

 “Okay. Okay, listen. I’m talking to your dad tonight. Right now, actually. He’s messed up a lot, but you’re his daughter. He has old contacts, favors he can call in.

We’ll get the money or negotiate or something. Just hold tight. Don’t try anything stupid like running. Text me updates if you can. I love you, girl. We’re getting you out.”

“I love you too,” I whispered. “Thank you for not blaming me.”

“How could I? This isn’t on you. It’s on that bastard and your dad’s stupid debts. Stay safe. I’ll call again tomorrow.”

The call ended, and the room fell silent once more. I set the phone down and curled up under the covers, still in my green dress.

 Priya’s words should have brought relief—rescue on the way, Dad stepping up. But I knew better. Dad didn’t have that kind of money. His connections were smoke and mirrors, the same ones that had buried us in this mess to begin with.

 Favors owed to men like Matteo never came cheap or clean.

And then there was the shameful truth I could barely admit to myself. Part of me wanted to stay here a little longer. Not forever. Just enough to understand the pull.

The way Matteo looked at me was like I was a puzzle worth solving. The dangerous thrill of his brutality mixed with those rare soft edges. This penthouse was a cage, but it was luxurious.

Safe in its own terrifying way. Lisbon and my careful plans felt distant now, almost childish.

I traced the faint bruise on my wrist, wondering what it would feel like if he touched me again. Gentler. Or even rougher.

What was wrong with me? I was kidnapped, used, trapped—and yet the thought of leaving too soon left an odd emptiness in my chest.

Hours slipped by in restless thoughts. I must have drifted somewhere between waking and sleeping because a sound jerked me upright—the door opening without a knock.

Matteo filled the frame again, shirt sleeves rolled up, expression hard. He didn’t step inside fully. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small white pill, and tossed it toward the bed.

It landed lightly near my feet, rolling once before stopping.

“Take it,”

He said, voice flat but carrying that unmistakable edge of command.

 “It’ll clean you up. I want to see you take it before I leave"

I stared at the pill, then back at him. My heart hammered.

“Clean me up? What is this? Some kind of morning-after thing?”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

 “Something like that. You think I want complications from tonight? Take it with water. Now.”

I picked it up between two fingers, turning it over. It looked ordinary, but everything about this situation was anything but.

“And if I don’t?”

Matteo’s jaw tightened. He took one step into the room, the air growing heavier.

“Then you deal with the consequences. But we both know you will. You’re smarter than that, Alexandria.”

The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine. I wanted to throw it back at him, to push back against the control.

But the memory of his hands on me, the weight of his body, the confusing mix of fear and heat—it all held me in place.

Before I could respond, footsteps echoed down the hallway. Giulia’s voice called out softly. Like it's urgent.

“Matteo? We need to talk. Now.”

He didn’t turn away from me. His gaze stayed locked, waiting for me to obey.

I reached for the glass of water on the table, the pill heavy in my palm. As I lifted it toward my mouth, the lights in the penthouse flickered once—then again.

Guilia came to the door looking all surprised.

Alexandria’s POV

Matteo stood in the doorway for a long moment, his broad frame silhouetted against the hallway light. His expression confuses me.

 He didn’t say anything about what had happened between us—just the order, delivered in that low, commanding voice.

“Get some sleep,” he said. “And don't leave this room" He added as the door clicked shut behind him, and I was alone again in the vast east room. I stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, the white sheets rumpled beneath me.

 My body still throbbed with the memory of him—rough hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, the way he’d taken what he wanted without asking. Brutal but possessive.

 The brief pause where his dark eyes had lingered on mine, like he was seeing past the debt and the complication.

It confused me. It angered me. And worst of all, it pulled at something deep inside that I didn’t want to name.

I envied Giulia. The thought made my stomach twist with shame, but it was true. She was his wife; elegant, composed, the one who got to stand beside him at galas and wear his ring.

 I was just the girl from the wrong door, the one he fucked in secret like a dirty secret. Yet here I was, aching for more of his touch even as fear coiled in my chest.

I lay back slowly, still thinking of us. Ooh Alex, is there really an us? I didn't answer that question. I just shoved it coiled.

The penthouse was oppressively quiet, many floors above a city that felt a million miles away. Sleep wouldn’t come. My mind kept replaying every second.

 His weight pinning me, the sting of his grip, that rare flicker of almost-gentleness afterward. What kind of man could be both monster and something almost human in the same breath?

My phone sat on the bedside table. It had rung earlier—Priya—but I hadn’t answered. I’d let it go to voicemail, too raw to speak.

Now, in the silence, it started vibrating again. I ignored it for three rings, then four. On the fifth, I grabbed it.

“Hey Priya,” I whispered, pressing the phone to my ear.

“Alexandria! Finally! I’ve called you like ten times. What the hell is going on? One minute you’re at the club, the next you vanish.

 I went looking near that grey door and it was locked tight. Talk to me.”

Her voice was frantic, laced with worry and anger. I closed my eyes, pulling my knees up to my chest.

“I’m at Matteo Bellini’s penthouse,”

I said quietly.

“He… he took me after I walked in on something I shouldn’t have seen. There was blood, Priya. A man on the floor. Matteo caught me, and now I’m here.”

The line went dead silent for a beat. Then she exploded.

“Matteo Bellini? Are you fucking kidding me? The Matteo Bellini? Alexandria, this isn’t a game. His family owns half the shadows in this city. Did he hurt you? I swear to God, if he laid a hand on you..."

“He did,” I cut in softly, my voice catching.

“But it’s complicated. Rough… really rough. But he wasn’t all monster.

 There were moments where he almost seemed… I don’t know. Different. His wife is here too. Giulia. She looks at him like she’s scared but she stays.”

Priya let out a string of curses.

“I’m so mad at you right now. Not because this is your fault—you couldn’t do anything against a man like him. He’s dangerous, connected, and you’re just… you.

 But damn it, Alexandria, you sound almost calm about this. Like you’re processing it instead of screaming for help.”

“I am scared,” I admitted, glancing toward the locked door. “Terrified. But panicking won’t change anything.

He said my dad owes him a fortune. Over three hundred thousand euros. That’s why he’s keeping me. Leverage.”

Priya breathed heavily on the other end.

 “Okay. Okay, listen. I’m talking to your dad tonight. Right now, actually. He’s messed up a lot, but you’re his daughter. He has old contacts, favors he can call in.

We’ll get the money or negotiate or something. Just hold tight. Don’t try anything stupid like running. Text me updates if you can. I love you, girl. We’re getting you out.”

“I love you too,” I whispered. “Thank you for not blaming me.”

“How could I? This isn’t on you. It’s on that bastard and your dad’s stupid debts. Stay safe. I’ll call again tomorrow.”

The call ended, and the room fell silent once more. I set the phone down and curled up under the covers, still in my green dress.

 Priya’s words should have brought relief—rescue on the way, Dad stepping up. But I knew better. Dad didn’t have that kind of money. His connections were smoke and mirrors, the same ones that had buried us in this mess to begin with.

 Favors owed to men like Matteo never came cheap or clean.

And then there was the shameful truth I could barely admit to myself. Part of me wanted to stay here a little longer. Not forever. Just enough to understand the pull.

The way Matteo looked at me was like I was a puzzle worth solving. The dangerous thrill of his brutality mixed with those rare soft edges. This penthouse was a cage, but it was luxurious.

Safe in its own terrifying way. Lisbon and my careful plans felt distant now, almost childish.

I traced the faint bruise on my wrist, wondering what it would feel like if he touched me again. Gentler. Or even rougher.

What was wrong with me? I was kidnapped, used, trapped—and yet the thought of leaving too soon left an odd emptiness in my chest.

Hours slipped by in restless thoughts. I must have drifted somewhere between waking and sleeping because a sound jerked me upright—the door opening without a knock.

Matteo filled the frame again, shirt sleeves rolled up, expression hard. He didn’t step inside fully. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small white pill, and tossed it toward the bed.

It landed lightly near my feet, rolling once before stopping.

“Take it,”

He said, voice flat but carrying that unmistakable edge of command.

 “It’ll clean you up. I want to see you take it before I leave"

I stared at the pill, then back at him. My heart hammered.

“Clean me up? What is this? Some kind of morning-after thing?”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

 “Something like that. You think I want complications from tonight? Take it with water. Now.”

I picked it up between two fingers, turning it over. It looked ordinary, but everything about this situation was anything but.

“And if I don’t?”

Matteo’s jaw tightened. He took one step into the room, the air growing heavier.

“Then you deal with the consequences. But we both know you will. You’re smarter than that, Alexandria.”

The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine. I wanted to throw it back at him, to push back against the control.

But the memory of his hands on me, the weight of his body, the confusing mix of fear and heat—it all held me in place.

Before I could respond, footsteps echoed down the hallway. Giulia’s voice called out softly. Like it's urgent.

“Matteo? We need to talk. Now.”

He didn’t turn away from me. His gaze stayed locked, waiting for me to obey.

I reached for the glass of water on the table, the pill heavy in my palm. As I lifted it toward my mouth, the lights in the penthouse flickered once—then again.

Guilia came to the door looking all surprised.