Elena was trapped.
The weight of Alessio's words settled over her like chains.
"Until I say otherwise, you belong to me."
Her breath came too fast.
Her body hummed with tension, her mind screaming at her to fight, to run.
But how?
The guards outside.
The locked doors.
The sheer unshakable dominance of the man standing before her.
Her throat dried as she stared at him, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break through her ribs.
Alessio simply watched her—calm, controlled, terrifyingly sure.
Like he had already won.
Like she was already his.
Elena clenched her fists.
"No," she whispered.
Alessio tilted his head, amused. "No?"
She lifted her chin.
"I don't belong to you."
His lips curled.
"Elena," he murmured, stepping forward, slow and dangerous. "You don't seem to understand the situation you're in."
She refused to shrink back.
"I understand perfectly," she spat. "You're keeping me prisoner."
Alessio chuckled, low and dark.
"Prisoner?" His fingers brushed the sleeve of her dress, a mockery of tenderness. "Is that what you think this is?"
Her skin prickled.
"What else would you call it?" she snapped.
Alessio exhaled softly, like he found her defiance amusing.
And then—
His hand shot out.
Elena barely had time to gasp before he grabbed her wrist, pulling her against his chest.
Her breath hitched.
His body was warm, unyielding, dangerous.
Too close.
She struggled, pushing at his chest.
But he didn't budge.
"Elena," he murmured, his voice smooth as velvet, lethal as a blade. "You are not a prisoner."
She glared up at him, her pulse hammering.
"Then let me go."
Alessio's grip tightened.
Slow.
Deliberate.
His thumb brushed over the rapid beat of her pulse.
Her skin burned.
"You're staying here," he said. "But not as my prisoner."
Her stomach twisted.
"Then what the hell am I?" she demanded.
Alessio's silver-gray eyes darkened.
His free hand lifted—and skimmed down her waist.
Elena sucked in a breath, her body tensing at the bold touch.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear.
"Mine."
Her heart stopped.
Her breath hitched.
A sharp, terrifying shudder ran through her.
She tried to pull away—tried to shove at his chest, but he didn't let her go.
Instead—
His fingers trailed down her arm, his grip sliding to her waist.
Not rough.
Not cruel.
But inescapable.
Her pulse pounded.
She hated him.
Hated how easily he controlled her.
Hated that a sick, twisted part of her felt a pull toward the very man who had taken everything from her.
"Elena," he murmured, his voice low, thick with promise.
Her body betrayed her.
Heat licked down her spine, pooling low in her stomach.
She despised the way her body reacted to him.
Despised the way his presence made her breath come faster, her skin flush, her body tighten.
"You will stay," he said, his fingers tightening on her waist.
She swallowed hard. "And if I refuse?"
Alessio chuckled, dark and knowing.
"You can try."
And that was the most dangerous part.
Because for the first time, she wasn't sure she wanted to.