Then the real chaos begins.
For the next two hours I am pulled and prodded, shoved into one outfit after another.Rory doesn’t give me a chance to breathe as she zips me into this dress or that jacket, slides shoes onto my feet and tugs my hair into complicated styles that make me feel like I’m on display.The mirror shows me a new stranger every time I glance at it, each look more polished, more glamorous, but none of them feel like me.
I want to scream.I want to tear everything off and run.
But instead I stand there, miserable and silent, as the endless parade of clothes continues.And as I do, the weight of shame creeps over me.The bruises from last night are dark against my skin, the hickeys on my neck and collarbone undeniable marks of Damiano’s claim.My face heats in embarrassment, but they don’t even glace at the marks.I catch Rory’s eyes for a moment, her smile wide as she twirls around, holding up yet another dress for me to try on.Her enthusiasm is infectious, but it feels hollow.I wonder if she knows what is really happening here.But then again, does it matter?For all I know, they’ve all been bought to turn a blind eye.So I swallow my frustration, push down the bile rising in my throat and let Rory have her way because I have no other choice.Rory glides around the room with a sense of purpose, holding up a delicate lace set of lingerie that has me immediately bristling.She waves it in front of me with a mischievous grin, clearly excited about the prospect of me wearing it.
This is where I draw the line.I force a tight smile.“I’ll try that on privately, thank you.”Her smile falters for a second, but she quickly recovers.“Of course, darling, whatever you like!”Without missing a beat, she hands the delicate pieces off to one of her assistants, instructing her to tuck everything away in the master bedroom closet.
It’s strange how little say I have in all of this, as though Damiano has already laid out each detail with meticulous precision.Not once did Rory ask me what I want or how I feel about it.His control stretches far beyond the confines of the bedroom, infiltrating even the clothes that now crowd every inch of the place.I can feel the weight of it all, the way everything has been chosen for me, mapped out, every decision made by someone else, from the shoes to the dresses to the ridiculous lingerie I wasn’t even given a say in.Not a single moment has been mine.
The team finishes their work, and the last remnants of their presence, discarded clothes and racks, are carted off as they leave.The room is still, and I stand there, surrounded by the chaos of my thoughts, like I’ve barely survived a hurricane.Rory, on the other hand, seems as cheerful as ever.Not a single hint of exhaustion or frustration.Her eyes shine with excitement as she gestures toward the hallway leading to the master bedroom.“You will look absolutely breathtaking in the dresses, darling.Damiano won’t know what hit him!”she says with a wink, clearly convinced that I should be thrilled by this.I almost choke on the words I want to say but don’t.
“And remember, these are only the first pieces, darling.You might need more later, different looks, you know?Just give me a call if you need anything.The boys have my number,” she continues, her voice a sweet melody of professional enthusiasm.I force a smile, my stomach sinking as she wraps her arms around me in a quick, overly tight hug.Before I can even process what’s happening, she’s already gone.
I exhale sharply as Matteo, who has come back in, clicks the door shut behind her.
There will be more?I groan.
Chapter Nineteen
Lily
The rest of the afternoon is boring.
I watch TV with Matteo, who is as fun to be around as a houseplant.If it wasn’t for the occasional grunt or a monosyllabic reply to my attempts at conversation, I would’ve sworn he was either deaf or just a human-shaped piece of furniture.
Bored out of my mind, I finally give up trying to engage with him and start wandering the penthouse, my footsteps echoing off the glossy floors as I explore.The place is absolutely massive, not that I’m surprised.In the night area, there are two spacious guest rooms along with the expansive master suite that serves as my cell.On the opposite end of the unit, there is a separate guest suite that could host a small country.A state-of-the-art gym stands adjacent to it, complete with sleek wooden sauna booths and an entire space for cold plunges in the Nordic-style bathtub.There is also a locked door.Matteo says it is Damiano’s office when I ask him about it.
I make a mental note to try to pick the lock later.I don’t know how to pick a lock, I remind myself with a sigh.I am really the worst prisoner.
It’s all very…luxurious.Very Damiano.A place where money and power ooze from every corner.
Flowing seamlessly from the living room are the dining area and the modern, open-concept kitchen I’d already seen.Floor-to-ceiling sliding doors open up to a sprawling terrace, complete with a private swimming pool and a stylish outdoor lounge, perfect for entertaining or soaking up the sun in total privacy.
I guess crime pays well.
I make my way to the kitchen, the rich scent of something delicious wafting through the air.Rosa is busy at the counter, setting out ingredients with the kind of practiced ease that only comes from years of experience.She nods at me when I step in, acknowledging my presence without missing a beat.
“Lasagna,” I murmur under my breath, my heart tightening as I recognize the familiar ingredients—parmesan, ricotta, mozzarella.A flood of memories hits me like a wave.I can almost hear my mom’s voice calling me into the kitchen when I was younger, her hands deftly working the dough, teaching me how to layer the pasta just right.
“Can I help?”The words escape before I even realize I’m asking, and there’s a pleading note that I can’t quite hide.Rosa pauses for a moment, then glances at me, her eyes softening in sympathy.She pushes a bowl of cheese mixture toward me with a gentle motion.“Stir this, miss.”I try not to let the weight of the moment get to me, but it’s hard.
“Please call me Lily,” I say, almost as a plea for a sense of normalcy.
“All right, Lily,” she agrees, and for a moment there’s a pause, as though she’s considering me more deeply.“So you know how to cook Italian?”
I give a half-hearted shrug.“A few dishes.My mom taught me…” I trail off, the lump in my throat growing bigger.“But when I went to live with my father, his wife…well, she forbade me to go near the kitchen or bother the cook.”I take a breath, forcing the words out.“I’ve cooked for friends at vet school, but that’s about it.”
Rosa seems to take in my words, and she doesn’t push, instead offering a kind smile.“Where is your mother?”
I can feel the sadness creeping back in, but I try to hold it together.“She passed away from cancer when I was nine.”
Her expression softens, and her voice drops, full of genuine sympathy.“I’m sorry, Lily.”
I force a small smile, shrugging to mask the tightness in my chest.“It’s okay.I miss her, of course, but it’s been so long now.”I look down at the bowl in my hands, stirring the mixture slowly, as if it might somehow keep the emotions at bay.“It smells amazing in here, like when I was a little girl, helping Mom cook.”
Rosa’s smile widens, warm and comforting, and I feel a bit lighter.We work in companionable silence until the lasagna dish is cooking in the oven, filling the air with its mouthwatering scent.Rosa orders me to sit down on a kitchen stool and pours me a glass of sparkling water while she starts to thinly slice meat for the carpaccio intended for appetizers.
