The dining room of the Moretti mansion glowed under the soft light of crystal chandeliers. The long mahogany table gleamed, polished to a reflective shine, each place set meticulously as though every detail had been inspected personally.
Outside, rain tapped lightly against the tall windows, the quiet rhythm making the mansion feel both alive and suffocating.
Elena entered, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Her spine was straight despite the nervous flutter in her chest.
Dinner alone with Lucian—the man who had turned her life upside down—was not something she was looking forward to.
He sat at the head of the table, pouring red wine into two crystal glasses. His dark eyes scanned her calmly. Even in this quiet setting, his air of authority did not fade. He looked like a man born to command.
"You're late," he said, his voice low and smooth, carrying a sharp edge that tightened her stomach.
Elena glared at him.
"You didn't say there was a particular time I should come," she replied calmly, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "So spare my life, sir."
She rolled her eyes.
"Wouldn't want to look desperate."
Lucian's lips twitched faintly, the hint of a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Desperate," he repeated slowly. "Interesting choice of words for someone in my house."
Elena lifted her chin stubbornly.
"Then you should've just let me go… or killed me."
A faint amusement flickered in his eyes.
"No can do."
He slid a glass toward her.
"Drink. It's impolite to ignore an offer."
Elena took the glass. Their fingers brushed briefly, sending an unexpected warmth up her arm. She forced herself to ignore it and sat down, meeting his gaze without flinching.
Lucian watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"Tonight," he began, swirling his wine thoughtfully, "I want to go over the rules of my house. I assume Matteo and Sofia explained the general ones."
"Yes," Elena said, taking a sip. "They did."
She shrugged slightly.
"Though some of them seemed… arbitrary."
His eyes flickered with interest.
"The general rules are for everyone who lives here," he said calmly. "But you… are different."
His gaze sharpened.
"You are my possession now."
Elena's pulse jumped at the word, which was exactly why she refused to back down.
She leaned forward slightly, glaring straight at him.
"I am not your possession, Lucian." She crossed her arms.
"And additional rules? I suppose I should be worried."
Lucian studied her quietly.
"You are," he replied simply. "Otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here."
He leaned back slightly.
"And worried? You don't need to be. Follow the rules and you'll be fine… micara."
Elena scoffed and drained the rest of her wine.
"Just get on with the rules already."
She set the empty glass down with annoyance.
She heard his chair move, but she didn't raise her head. She already knew he was walking toward her.
Lucian stopped beside her chair and leaned down. Dangerously close, she could smell his expensive cologne.
"Mind your tone when you speak to me, Elena," he murmured softly in her ear.
The quiet threat in his voice made her breath catch.
If she turned her head, their lips would be only inches apart.
She could feel the heat of his body beside hers.
Strangely, the tension running through her body wasn't entirely fear.
When he finally stepped away, she released a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
But she could still feel his gaze on her.
"Rule one," Lucian said calmly as he returned to his seat, "you do not leave this mansion without my permission."
Elena's head snapped up in disbelief.
"Rule two. You speak when spoken to. You answer honestly, but you do not volunteer unnecessary information."
His eyes darkened slightly.
"Silence can be valuable. Misuse it, and there will be consequences."
He continued calmly.
"Rule three. You sleep in the room I assign. No exceptions."
He poured more wine.
"Your habits. Your movements. Your time. They are no longer entirely yours."
The wine glowed ruby red in the glass.
"You live under my supervision."
His gaze hardened.
"Rule four. Loyalty is earned. Fear… is instant." He leaned forward slightly. "And if you fail to understand this…"
His voice dropped. "You will regret it."
Silence filled the room except for the rain outside.
Lucian looked directly at her.
"Do you understand me, Elena?"
For a few seconds, Elena said nothing.
Then suddenly—She laughed. A hollow laugh. Cold and empty.
It slowly faded as she stood up, pushing her chair back with a loud scrape.
She walked toward him slowly.
Then she grabbed his wine glass and drank it in one swallow.
"You must want a slave very badly," she said calmly. Her voice was so steady it almost sounded dangerous.
"You kidnapped me. Dragged me here because I witnessed something I shouldn't have." She tilted her head slightly. "And yes, I blame my stupid curiosity."
She gestured around the room.
"The Moretti rules were already ridiculous." Her eyes locked onto his. "But this?" She shook her head."This is complete bullshit."
Her voice hardened. "If you want a puppet, go buy one." She stepped closer. "But I'm not following your rules."
"Not now."
"Not ever."
She brushed past him. "So if you're done…" Her voice drifted over her shoulder. "I'll be taking my leave."
Her footsteps echoed down the hallway as she walked back toward the guest room.
Lucian remained standing in the dining room. Still. Silent.
He felt something strange stirring inside him. Anger. Amusement. Curiosity.
He had expected defiance. But not like this.
No one had ever spoken to him that way before, no one had dared.
Lucian Moretti was a man with very little patience.
Yet for the first time in thirty-five years…He found himself wondering.
How long would it take…before Elena finally broke?
And whether he truly wanted her to.