Semua Bab BOUGHT,TAMED AND TAKEN : Bab 11 - Bab 20

The charm was warm in Aria’s palm by morning.She’d slept with it under her pillow, as if the weight of someone else’s grief might quiet her own. It didn’t. But it gave her something to hold onto—something real in a house where everything felt like a performance.She slipped it into her pocket before leaving the room.Downstairs, the halls were eerily still. No guards hovered near the doors, and even the staff moved with hushed urgency. Something was off.In the dining room, Luciano sat alone at the head of the table, dressed in black, a glass of scotch untouched beside him.He didn’t look up when she walked in.But he spoke. “You weren’t supposed to see me yesterday.”She paused. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”He finally looked at her.“You didn’t interrupt. You reminded me I’m still visible.”Aria sat at the far end, unsure if she was invited or testing him.“You say things like you want to be known,” she said carefully. “But then you shut every door that opens.”His eyes darkened. “

It had been days since Luciano stepped into Aria’s room and chose not to kiss her.But that moment… it hadn’t faded.It had deepened.Like a quiet storm building in the distance, waiting for the right second to strike.—Breakfast came late.Aria didn’t go down to the grand dining room—not when she knew Luciano would be there. Not when the air between them was still charged with something unspoken and sharp.Instead, she sat near the window of her room, cradling a mug of tea and staring out into the endless garden.How could something look so beautiful and still feel like a cage?The estate was gold and marble and silence. The kind that settled deep into your bones.But her thoughts weren’t quiet.They spun with him—Luciano. His voice, his nearness. His pain.And her own.Because she didn’t know what scared her more: his darkness… or how much of it she was starting to understand.—Clara knocked around noon.“Missed you at breakfast,” she said, slipping in without waiting for an invit

The rain came softly that night.Not the violent kind that tore at windows and roared against rooftops, but a quiet, persistent drizzle that soaked the marble courtyards and cloaked the De Luca estate in a humid hush. The air was heavy, as if holding its breath—like the walls knew something was about to shift.Aria stood by her bedroom window, arms wrapped around herself. She wasn’t cold, not exactly, but something inside her trembled. Maybe it was the memory of Luciano’s last words. Maybe it was the way her pulse still hadn’t settled since their conversation that afternoon—if you could call it that.He’d touched her again.Not cruelly. Not even intimately.But with that devastating control he always carried—fingers brushing the small of her back as he passed, like she was his to guide, his to command.And the worst part? Her body had responded.God help her, she’d leaned into it.Aria closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose.She hated this. Hated the confusion, the fire he ignit

The rain didn’t stop for two days.It tapped against the glass like it had something to say—soft, persistent, always there. The kind of rain that made the world feel suspended, like time itself had curled up and gone still.Aria didn’t leave her room much during the downpour. Luciano had offered her freedom in his own way—a twisted version of it—but she needed space. Not physical space. Just distance from the way his eyes lingered. From the weight of being wanted by someone like him.She found herself pacing. Writing. Reading old journals she had packed away in her memory and tried to forget.One evening, she opened the small drawer of the writing desk and found a pen. Just a pen. But it reminded her of her old life. Of filling notebook margins with poetry and trying to stitch herself back together through metaphors and half-rhymes.She didn’t know why, but that night, she wrote a letter.Not to anyone.Not even to herself.Just… to the silence.⸻“To whoever’s listening,”“There’s a

The rain didn’t stop that night.It came down in steady sheets, soft and constant, like the sky itself had decided to grieve. The windows of the De Luca estate blurred with it, casting everything inside in a watery glow.Aria sat by the fireplace in the study, curled in one of the armchairs she wasn’t sure she was allowed to use. Her knees were pulled to her chest, a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders, as if the soft wool could shield her from the weight she carried.She hadn’t seen Luciano since the night in the hall—the night he told her things no one should’ve admitted. The way he held her. The way he said mine like a threat dressed in velvet.And still… she hadn’t slept.Not properly.Every time she closed her eyes, it was there again. His breath at her ear. His touch on her wrist. The look in his eyes when he said, If you ever try to leave again…She didn’t know what scared her more—his threat or the part of her that wanted to believe he wouldn’t follow through.A part