Elara's POV.
The mansion was always cold, but the library was the only room that felt like a real room and
not a museum.
I was hunched over a heavy textbook on cardiovascular pathology when the door creaked. I
didn't have to look up to know it was Lorenzo. He had been my only companion for the past
week. While Dante was off in the city, presumably breaking bones or making billions, Lorenzo
was here.
He was the only one to have a conversation with me that didn't involve a "Yes, Mrs. Moretti"
from the staff.
"You're going to go blind reading in this light, Elara," Lorenzo said. He walked over and turned
on a brass lamp next to my chair.
I looked up, rubbing my eyes.
"I have to keep up. If I stop studying, I'll forget everything I know. I'm a doctor, Lorenzo. Not a decorative vase."
Lorenzo leaned against the edge of the desk, dangerously close to my personal space. He
reached out and traced the edge of the book.
"You're far more than a doctor."
He looked at me with an intensity that made the air in the room feel thick. For a week, he had
been the perfect gentleman…..my perfect gentleman.
"Dante hasn't come home in two days," I said, trying to change the subject.
"Dante is a fool," Lorenzo whispered. He stood up and walked behind my chair. I felt his hands
settle on my shoulders. His touch was warm."He has the most incredible woman in New York
under his roof, and he treats her like a line item in a budget. He doesn't see you, Elara. Not the
way I do."
I should have moved, but I was lonely. I was a twenty one year old girl who had been brought
into a life of silence. Lorenzo's attention felt like a drug, a very addictive one.
He moved around the chair and knelt in front of me.
He took my hands in his.
"I see the way you
look at the gates. You're trapped. And it kills me to know that he's the one who has the key."
"It's just a year, Lorenzo," I said, my voice trembling."That was the deal."
"A year is a long time to be unloved,
" he said. He stood up, pulling me closer to him.
The distance between us vanished. I could smell the expensive cologne on his neck and the
faint scent of peppermint.
Lorenzo reached out, his thumb grazing my lower lip. It was a soft, tentative movement that
made my breath hitch. He wasn't demanding like Dante; he was asking.
"What are you doing?" I whispered, though I didn't pull away.
"Elara," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
He leaned in. I could feel the heat radiating off him. My heart was racing, a mix of guilt and a
desperate need for someone to actually want me.
His face was inches from mine. I closed my eyes, waiting for the contact, waiting for the spark
that would finally burn through the ice in this house.
The heavy double doors of the library slammed open against the stone walls.
"Get your hands off her."
I jumped back, nearly tripping over the chair. Lorenzo stood his ground.
Dante stood in the doorway, he looked like he had just stepped out of a war zone. His coat was
open, his tie was gone, and his eyes were not just cold, they were murderous.
"Dante," Lorenzo started, his voice cracking slightly. "We were just…."
Dante moved faster than I thought a man of his size could. In three strides, he was across the
room.
He didn't argue. He grabbed Lorenzo by the collar of his sweater and slammed him back
against a bookshelf. Several books tumbled to the floor, the sound echoing like falling bricks.
"Dante, stop!" I screamed, my hands flying to my mouth.
Dante ignored me.
He had Lorenzo pinned, his forearm pressed against his brother's throat.
"I told you to stay away from her, Enzo. I told you she was off-limits."
"She's a human being, Dante! Not a dog you leave in a kennel!" Lorenzo choked out, struggling
against his brother's grip.
Dante's face was inches from Lorenzo's.
"She is my wife. She carries my name. And if I ever see you touching what belongs to me again,
I won't care that we share the same blood. I will bury you in the garden. Do you understand
me?"
He didn't wait for an answer, he threw Lorenzo aside like he was nothing more than a rag doll.
Lorenzo slumped against the shelves, gasping for air and rubbing his neck.
Dante turned his gaze to me. I felt like a rabbit caught in the sights of a wolf. The
possessiveness in his eyes was terrifying.
"Upstairs," Dante commanded.
"No," I said, my voice shaking but firm.
"You can't just walk in here and..."
Dante didn't let me finish. He stepped into my space, his presence completely swallowing me.
He leaned down, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"You belong to me, Elara. You signed the contract, you are mine until I say otherwise. If you
think you can find comfort in my brother's bed because I'm not here to watch you, you are sadly
mistaken."
"I…it…it wasn't like that," I stammered.
"I don't care what it was like," he snapped. He reached out and grabbed my arm. His grip was
strong, It didn't hurt, but it was unyielding."You will go to your room. You will stay there until I
come for you. And if I find Lorenzo within ten feet of you again, the contract is void, the money is
gone, and you'll be back in that gutter within the hour."
He dragged me toward the door. I looked back at Lorenzo, he looked furious.
"Don't look at him!" Dante roared, jerking my arm.
He pulled me out of the library and up the grand staircase. The staff vanished like roaches. He
didn't stop until we reached my bedroom.
He threw the door open and shoved me inside.
I turned around, my anger finally bubbling over.
"You can't treat me like this! I'm not a prisoner!"
Dante stepped into the room and locked the door behind him.
He began to unbutton his shirt.
"You are exactly what I say you are," Dante said. He tossed his shirt onto a chair, revealing the
scars on his chest.
"You want attention, Elara? You want to be seen? Fine. I'll give you all the
attention you can handle."
He walked toward me.
"You're going to learn tonight," he whispered, backing me up against the
bed.
"You're going to learn exactly who you belong to."
I reached back, my hand hitting the mattress. My heart was thudding so hard I could feel it in my
ears. I had wanted him to notice me, but this... this was a storm I wasn't sure I could survive.
And I loved it.
"Dante," I whispered.
"What?" He growled, reaching out to cup my jaw, his thumb pressing firmly into my cheek.
"You want me to stop?"
I didn't respond, I didn't want him to. If this was the only way I could have him, I would, but I
won't give him the benefit of my vulnerability.
He didn't wait for an answer. He crashed his lips onto mine. But before he could take another
breath, I flipped him over and his back landed on the bed.
"My way." I said as I sat on his lap.