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Dante searches my face, then nods. "I'll make the arrangements."
He turns and strides toward the study door, movements crisp and efficient as always. With his hand on the ornate handle, he pauses and glances back at me. "Get some rest first, if you can. We have a long night ahead."
I nod stiffly. Rest seems unlikely with my thoughts in turmoil, but I appreciate Dante's concern. I know the decisions ahead will require all my faculties.
After Dante departs, I stand motionless, gathering my resolve. Doubt and anguish still lurk within like stalking beasts, but I force them down through sheer strength of will. Tonight I must become the man that duty demands - decisive, cunning, free of compromising sentiment. A leader the family expects.
Squaring my shoulders once more, I smooth my shirt and stride toward the study door. The noises of the estate flow in from the hallway outside - familiar voices, the clink of cutlery, footsteps on marble. My family. My purpose. This is all that can matter now.
I step across the threshold, closing the door firmly on foolish fancies. In this world I've chosen, trust is ever the first casualty. I won't make that mistake again.
CHAPTER11
CLARA
The heavy thud of footsteps echoes down the corridor, each one driving a spike of dread deeper into my heart. The activity in the mansion has ramped up all evening, with more people coming and going than since I've been here. I glance up from the book I've been staring blankly at for the past hour, though I can't seem to concentrate on what I'm reading.
I haven't seen Antonio since our night together last night. And although I'm the one who decided not to stay the night in his room, I still feel a pang of rejection that he didn't at least make an effort to seek me out at breakfast. I thought after the intimacy we shared, after the way he held me and looked at me with such tenderness in his eyes, that things would be different between us. That I wouldn't just be his prisoner anymore, but something more.
But when I didn't see him this morning, doubts crept in. Was I just another conquest to him, a way to exert his power over me? Or did he regret showing me that softer side of himself? Either way, the distance today makes my heart ache. I miss the Antonio who gazed at me with wonder and laughed as we danced under the stars. Not the cold, remote heir to the Ricci family who seems to have returned.
A knock, hard and fast, shatters the silence. Before I can respond, the door swings open, and there stands Dante. His icy blue eyes are hard stones. The normally easy, relaxed set of his shoulders has been replaced by rigid tension.
My breath catches as I meet his gaze. "Dante? What's going on?" Though I already sense the truth slithering through my veins like icy venom—something is very, very wrong. His stony expression and the undercurrent of violence radiating from him makes the hair on my arms stand up.
"You'll be confined to your room until further notice." His words are curt, clipped. He inclines his head toward my room, lush and ornate like all the suites in the Ricci estate. Just yesterday, I'd admired the velvet curtains, the new painting gifted by Antonio hanging above the massive four poster bed. Now, it all seems garish, oppressive.
I stand swiftly, indignation swelling within me. "What? Why? You can't just lock me in my room without an explanation. Is there some kind of danger?" My voice comes out high-pitched, shrill to my own ears. I take a deep breath, steadying myself before continuing. "Was there another attack? Please, just talk to me, Dante."
He presses his lips together, shaking his head once. There's no humor or compassion in his eyes now—only detachment, like he's accepted something distasteful yet inevitable. "I don't need to explain. You were told to remain in your room."
His words land like blows. I stumble back a step, the word ringing in my mind, ricocheting off walls that seem to draw closer with each passing second. Prisoner. I'm a prisoner again.
"Antonio." His name escapes my lips, cracked and broken. "Can I speak to Antonio? He wouldn't allow—"
His bark of laughter cuts me off. It's a harsh, mirthless sound. "Who else gives the orders in this house?"
My vision blurs with panicked tears. This can't be happening. That Antonio would lock me in a room without explanation, without even speaking to me himself. Is this about last night? Was it an unforgivable offensive to leave his bed? Or did he learn something that made him distrust me again? Either way, the loss of trust cuts deep. I thought we'd started forging a real connection.
"Please," I choke out. "Let me talk to Antonio. Or Giovanni. Or Lorenzo. I've given up my school, job, freedom. Everything when they told me to stay here. Now you're going to keep me inside a single room?"
Dante shakes his head again, slower this time. For a moment, I think I see a flicker of pity in his stare. His tone softens, almost gentle. "Just accept it, Clara. It'll be easier that way."
"No." My breaths come faster now, ragged half-sobs. The air in the room suddenly seems suffocating, the walls smaller than before. "I won't accept this. This is a jail cell."
Once more, Dante's eyes flash with what looks like regret. But then his expression closes off again, smooth and impassive as a marble statue. "Loyalty and obedience are everything in this family, Clara. It's time you learned that lesson the hard way."
With that, he turns on his heel and pulls the door shut behind him. The snick of the lock sliding into place echoes with horrible finality. Alone now, I sink to the floor, wrapping my arms around myself and plead silently. What did I do to deserve this? I've tried so hard to fit into this strange new world that's become my reality. Given up everything for people who now reject me without explanation.
Hot tears slip down my cheeks as I consider my options. Pleading with Dante clearly won't work. He made it abundantly clear this order came from Antonio himself. That sting of betrayal pierces my heart again. I have to find a way to speak with Antonio directly, make him see reason, find out what turned him against me.
A stoic form lingers just outside the door—I can see his shadow beneath the gap. My prison guard. Anger simmers within me, hot and bitter. I started to trust this family, considered them friends, despite the conditions that led me here. Another naïve misjudgment, clearly. I was never more than collateral for a bad loan. A pawn Antonio could use for his own amusement, then discard once something changed his mind about me.
I rise on shaking legs and make my way to the window seat overlooking the sprawling Ricci estate. But the once calming view now taunts me. There's the garden where Antonio and I shared our first kiss.
Each memory lands like a lash of the whip, flaying my heart raw. I press my palms to the cool glass, fighting back sobs.
A darker fear slithers through my mind then. My father. Icy claws of panic seize my heart. If the Riccis are keeping me locked up here, what might they do to the man who owes them so much money? The man who brought his only daughter into this viper's nest to repay his debts?
