The Moretti mansion rose from the Chicago lakefront like a fortress of glass and stone, its windows gleaming gold in the pre-dawn light. Elara pressed her face to the car window, trying to process the sheer scale of the estate that stretched before them—manicured lawns, towering gates, and enough security cameras to stock a government facility.
This is where I'm supposed to destroy him from the inside, she thought, swallowing hard. This is his kingdom.
The car rolled to a stop beneath a covered portico, and Dominic was out before the engine fully died. He didn't wait for her, didn't offer assistance. Simply walked toward the massive front doors like he owned the world.
Which, Elara supposed, he did.
She hurried to catch up, her heels clicking against marble that probably cost more than most people's homes. The entrance hall was a study in intimidation—soaring ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and oil paintings of stern-faced men who all shared Dominic's predatory eyes.
"Welcome to your new home," Dominic said without turning around. His voice echoed in the cavernous space. "Try not to break anything. Most of it costs more than your father's debt."
A woman appeared from somewhere in the shadows—middle-aged, impeccably dressed, with the kind of neutral expression that came from years of seeing things she wasn't supposed to discuss. The woman looked like she belonged in a museum—clean lines, glass eyes, no fingerprints.
"Mrs. Chen," Dominic addressed her without looking away from Elara. "This is Elara Cruz. She'll be staying with us indefinitely."
"Of course, Mr. Moretti." The woman's voice betrayed nothing. "Shall I prepare the usual room?"
"No." Dominic's smile was sharp. "The room adjacent to mine. I want to keep a close eye on our guest."
Heat flooded Elara's cheeks. "I don't need..."
"What you need," Dominic cut her off, finally turning those winter-storm eyes on her, "is to understand something very clearly. You are here because I allow it. You breathe because I permit it. And you will sleep where I decide you sleep."
The words hung in the air like a threat. Mrs. Chen had already disappeared, probably to arrange whatever accommodations would best serve Dominic's need for control.
"Now," he continued, circling her again like he had in the warehouse, "let me explain how this works. You have exactly one job—to be exactly where I want you, when I want you there. Nothing more, nothing less."
"And what does that mean, exactly?" Elara forced herself to meet his gaze, even as her heart hammered against her ribs.
"It means you don't leave this property without my permission. You don't make phone calls without my knowledge. You don't speak to my associates unless I tell you to. And you certainly don't entertain any romantic notions about escape or rescue." His voice dropped to a whisper that somehow felt more dangerous than shouting. "Because there is no rescue coming, Elara. Your father offered you to me, and I don't give back what's mine."
If only you knew, she thought, fighting to keep her expression neutral. If only you knew that rescue was never the plan.
"What about clothes? Personal items?" she asked instead.
"Mrs. Chen will see to your wardrobe. I have particular tastes, and you'll dress to accommodate them." His gaze traveled over her slowly, cataloging every detail like he was appraising a piece of art. "As for personal items, you won't be needing reminders of your old life. This is your life now."
It should've stung. Instead, it stirred something darker—anticipation, maybe. Or recognition that she was exactly where she needed to be.
"Any questions?" Dominic asked.
"Just one." Elara tilted her chin up, channeling every ounce of false bravery she possessed. "What happens if I refuse to follow your rules?"
His smile widened, and for a moment she caught a glimpse of something genuinely amused in his expression.
"You won't."
"You seem very sure of that."
"I am." He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne, something expensive and dark that probably cost more than her monthly rent. "Because you're smarter than you look, Elara Cruz. And smart girls know when they're outmatched."
The challenge in his voice sent heat racing through her veins. This was the moment she should back down, play the scared victim, let him think he'd broken her spirit before she'd even settled in.
Instead, she stepped closer too.
"Maybe I am outmatched," she said softly. "Or maybe you just think you know what kind of girl I am."
Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or recognition that she wasn't going to be as easy to control as he'd assumed. For a heartbeat, they stood frozen, close enough to touch, the tension between them crackling like electricity.
Then footsteps echoed from the staircase, breaking the spell.
"Dom? What's going on?"
Elara turned to see a younger man descending the stairs—tall, dark-haired, with the same sharp features as Dominic but softer eyes.
"Luca." Dominic stepped back, his mask of control sliding firmly into place. "Meet Elara Cruz. She'll be staying with us for the foreseeable future."
Luca's gaze moved between them, and Elara saw the exact moment he understood what she was. His expression tightened.
"The debt," he said quietly.
"The debt," Dominic confirmed.
But Luca was looking at her now, really looking, and what she saw in his face wasn't the calculating assessment of a predator. It was concern.
"Are you all right?" he asked her directly.
"She's fine," Dominic answered before she could speak. "Aren't you, Elara?"
It wasn't really a question. It was a test.
"I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be," she said, and meant it in ways that neither brother could possibly understand.
Dominic's smile was sharp with approval. "Good. Mrs. Chen will show you to your room. Dinner is at eight. Don't be late."
As he walked away, his footsteps echoing in the marble hall, Elara felt the weight of Luca's continued stare. When she turned to meet his gaze, she saw something that made her chest tighten unexpectedly.
Pity.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "About all of this."
The kindness in his voice was almost harder to bear than Dominic's threats. Because kindness hadn't been part of her uncle's plan. Kindness was a complication she couldn't afford.
"Don't be," she said, brushing past him toward the stairs.
But as she climbed toward whatever room Dominic had chosen for her, she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just walked into something far more dangerous than her uncle had prepared her for.
Not just Dominic's world of violence and control.
But the possibility that she might actually belong in it.