All Chapters of TRAPPED BETWEEN HIM AND WANT: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Summer’s POVThe morning after the photo incident should’ve felt like any other day. The sun still rose over the De Rossi estate, the maids still walked the halls carrying trays of breakfast, and Mom’s laughter could still be heard echoing faintly from the kitchen. But beneath that illusion of normalcy, the air pulsed differently, like the calm before a storm that everyone could feel, but no one dared to name.I hadn’t slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that photograph, my photograph, cut through with a smear of red. The more I stared at it in my memory, the clearer it became, the way the ink on the note bled slightly, as if written by someone trembling with rage or obsession. Valeria. Her name felt like a ghost pressed against my skin.When I finally pushed the blanket off, the room was already bathed in warm gold light. Alexander wasn’t beside me. His side of the bed was cold.My stomach twisted. He’d been awake for hours, probably downstairs, planning something I wasn’t mean

Summer’s POVMorning came like a lie.The sun painted the villa in soft gold, the ocean glittering beyond the glass walls, as if the night before had been a dream. Birds sang. The sea breeze carried salt and peace.But beneath it all, something in my chest felt wrong, like a violin string pulled too tight.Alexander wasn’t beside me when I woke. His side of the bed was cold. The faint smell of his cologne still lingered, sandalwood and danger.For a moment, I just sat there, listening. The silence wasn’t peaceful anymore; it was watchful. The kind that held its breath before something broke.I got up, threw on his shirt, and walked through the hall. The house was quiet, except for the distant murmur of voices, low, clipped, professional.His men were already awake.When I stepped onto the veranda, I found Alexander near the gate, talking to Marco, his head of security. They both looked tense.“Ma’am,” Marco greeted me with a curt nod. “You should be resting.”“I’ve done enough resting

Summer’s POVThe house was chaos.Sirens wailed from somewhere beyond the gates. Guards barked orders, and the lights that had died moments ago now flickered back to life, bathing everything in a sickly white glow. I stumbled as Lucien dragged me down the hallway, his grip firm on my wrist, my pulse beating wildly under his fingers.“Lucien—”“Keep moving,” he said sharply, scanning every corner. His voice trembled beneath the command. “She got inside. I saw her. Red dress, mask — she wasn’t alone.”My throat tightened. “Is Alex—”“He’s fine,” Lucien cut in quickly, though his eyes betrayed something else, worry, raw and unspoken. “He’s handling it. Just do what I say.”The hallway stretched endlessly, lined with old paintings and mirrored walls that made it feel like the house was watching us. My mind flashed back to the moment I heard the shot, the echo, the scream caught in my throat, the way the world just stopped.I clutched Lucien’s sleeve. “She came for me, didn’t she?”He didn

Summer’s POVThe morning sunlight poured through the curtains, warm and golden, the kind of light that should’ve promised peace. But inside the De Rossi estate, peace was an illusion.The guards had doubled their posts overnight. Every window was locked, every shadow seemed to move. And yet, somehow, the silence was still louder than fear itself.It had been hours since the letter, the photograph, the message, and I still couldn’t get the image out of my head.“I didn’t die, Summer. You just didn’t finish the job.”Even now, the words burned through my mind like a curse.I tried to shake it off as I tied my hair back, dressed in plain workout clothes. Today, Alexander had insisted I start training, for self-defense.I’d resisted at first, but one look from him was enough.“From now on,” he’d said quietly last night, “you don’t take a single step without knowing how to fight back.”So here I was, barefoot on the polished wood floor of the estate’s training room, the morning light slan

Summer’s POVMorning had bled quietly into noon. The air in the De Rossi estate carried the aftertaste of laughter, and exhaustion. Every hallway smelled faintly of citrus cleaner, polished wood, and freshly baked bread from the kitchen. If not for the lingering ache in my arms and the faint bruises on my knuckles, I could almost believe that the world had finally decided to give us a break.Almost.I was seated at the long dining table, a glass of cold water sweating against my palm, when Alexander entered the room. His shirt was half unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up, revealing veins and a kind of exhaustion that no amount of rest could fix. He’d been on calls since dawn, security updates, estate patrol routes, shipment verifications. The mundane rhythms of a man who refused to sleep until the world stopped threatening what was his.“Eat,” he said simply, placing a plate in front of me.Omelet. Buttered toast. Strawberries.“I was waiting for you,” I said softly.He didn’t answer, j