Chapter 3
ADRIAN
Despite having slept most of the night on the flight over, Elena still looks like a stiff breeze could knock her over, so the first thing I do after giving her a house tour is show her the guest bedroom that she can call her own.
If I were a less understanding man, I'd tell her she'd just be sharing my room, but Elena needs to rest and come to terms with her fate before I start to seduce her.
It wasn't my plan initially, but the longer I'm around her, the more I'm sure that I want Elena not just because it's the sweetest imaginable revenge, but simply because I desire her to an almost painful degree.
There's something ironical about the fact that the woman I want more than anything else on the face of the planet just so happens to be the daughter of my sworn enemy, but I can roll with it.
Elena's last name only matters as far as proving to her father that I'm the one in control.
It doesn't bother me that I'm already making mental plans to take a Moreau as a wife.
In fact, it's just another way of taking everything from Laurent.
He took my father's legacy, so I'll take his in the form of his daughter.
That daughter, though, is braver than I expected her to be.
There have been some tears, but she didn't need to be dragged into the villa, and she seems charmed and even in awe at her new home.
She doesn't say it out loud, but I know she must be feeling some relief now that she doesn't have to marry an old man she barely knows, especially now that she's aware of the breadth of her father's treachery and lies.
My blood runs hot as I see her take a seat on the bed in the guest room, kicking off her dirty shoes and gazing out the glass doors that lead to her balcony. Elena isn't looking at me, but she's all I can see.
"You have free rein inside the villa. If you need to leave, you will inform me, and I will escort you.
Believe it or not, I don't want you to feel like you're a prisoner.
This can be an enjoyable time for you...
if you behave." I try to make my voice sound casual, but there's an edge to it that I can't quite hide.
I'm not used to this, this feeling of wanting someone to like me.
She turns her head, her blue eyes locking onto mine. "And if I don't behave?"
My lips twitch into a smile. "Trust me, Elena, you'll find there are plenty of perks to being good while you're here with me." I let my gaze sweep over her, slow and deliberate, leaving no doubt in her mind what kind of perks I'm talking about. "Get some rest. We have a busy day tomorrow."
I close the door behind me, leaving her to her thoughts. I need a drink and a plan after my impulsive deviation. I want her. All of her. Her mind, her body, her soul. I want to strip away everything her father has ever told her and build her back up as my woman.
Elena doesn't appear for dinner. That's alright for today, she’s tired, confused, needs rest, but tomorrow she'll be taking meals with me.
I spend the rest of the night in my study, a cavernous room lined with books that have been in my family for generations.
I pour myself a generous measure of aged scotch, a single malt, and stare out at the moon-drenched sea, my mind racing.
I need to be careful. One wrong move and I could lose her.
I need her to see me as more than just her captor.
I need her to see me as her savior. Her protector. Her future.
The next morning, I find Elena on her balcony, her hair tousled from sleep, her body wrapped in one of the silk robes Maria had delivered.
Elena is staring at the sea, and she looks so damn beautiful it makes my chest ache.
She doesn't hear me approach, and I take a moment to just watch her, the way the morning light catches in her hair, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and the fact that she's braless beneath the silk isn't lost on me.
I want to go to her, to wrap my arms around her and inhale her scent, but I hold back.
"You're up early," I say, my voice a low rumble.
She startles, turning to face me with wide eyes. "I couldn't sleep."
"Is the bed not to your liking?"
"It's...fine. It's just...a lot to take in."
"I understand." I join her at the railing, fighting not to look down at her chest and the way her nipples have hardened in the cool morning air.
"But I hope you've realized by now that you're not in any real danger.
" I reach out and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering against the soft skin of her cheek. "Not from me, at least."
"Then why am I here, Adrian?" Her voice is barely a whisper. "Why did you take me?"
"I already told you. Your father took everything from mine. I'm taking back what he stole, with interest."
“So then, I’m just...interest?"
I don't like the hurt in her voice, "You're his only child. His legacy. And his way out of all the mistakes he's buried himself under. By taking you, I take his hope. It's just a bonus that it also frees you from having to spend the rest of your life with Charles fucking Beaumont."
"I could have said no to the marriage," she insists, but even as the words leave her lips, I can tell she doesn't believe them.
"Could you? Really? After seeing the proof of your father's desperation? He would have found another way to use you. This way, you're with me and…safe."
"Safe?" She scoffs, turning away from me to look back out at the sea. "You're the head of a crime family, Adrian. You kidnapped me. Nothing about this feels safe."
That's fair. She needs to see, not just be told.
So I change tactics. "Alright, princess.
Time to go shopping. You can't spend your days here in a robe and you can't keep wearing that stained gown.
" I gesture towards the dress she wore last night, which is now a crumpled heap on the floor of her closet.
"We'll go into Positano. Get you whatever you need. "
Her eyes widen. "Go out? In public?"
"Yes. But you'll wear this." I pull a silk scarf from my pocket, a pattern of deep blues and greens that will complement her eyes. "And sunglasses. Your father has undoubtedly reported you missing by now. Your face will be all over the news. We can't have anyone recognizing you."
The thought seems to terrify her, but also excites her a little. A small adventure in the middle of her captivity.
An hour later, we're winding down the steep path from the villa to Positano's main street in a small, open-topped sports car.
Elena is silent beside me, her head turned to take in the stunning views, the scarf tied around her hair, and oversized dark glasses hiding most of her face.
She looks like a movie star trying to go incognito, and she's happy to stay with her hand resting on my forearm.
The fact that she doesn't try to run is just another bit of proof that she's glad to be away from the fate Laurent had decided for her.
It might be the first time in my life I've been the lesser of two evils. The thought makes me grin.
We shop, and I buy Elena anything and everything she admires before we head to my tailor to have her measured for the more formal pieces.
Afterwards we share lunch and gelato, and it’s peaceful enough that I can almost fool myself that we’re a normal couple.
That I’m not a monster, but simply a man.
Almost.
It's just past 7pm when I make it back home.
My blood has been running hot since the moment I first laid eyes on Elena, and the time away has given me the space to get control of myself again.
But when I see Elena waiting for me at the dining table, wearing one of the sun dresses I bought for her, I feel out of control all over again.
What sort of spell is this woman casting? I've never felt this way about anyone or anything. It goes beyond lust and dives headfirst into obsession.
She looks up at me from her seat expectantly, hands folded in her lap, but she can't hide her blush.
I know she chose this dress for me. She knows how good she looks in it.
The soft, pale yellow fabric drapes over her curves, the thin straps leaving her shoulders bare.
I want to trace them with my tongue. I want to peel that dress right off her body.
I take the seat opposite her. "I trust you had a restful afternoon."
"I did," she says, her voice a little breathless. "Maria showed me where everything is. The house is...stunning."
"It's been in my family for generations. My father loved it here."
The mention of my father seems to pique her interest. "What was he like?"
"He was a good man," I say, but the words feel inadequate.
"Better than me." I don't mention that my father was the one who walked away from the Cosa Nostra, who tried to build a legitimate life, a legacy for me, only to have it all stolen by her father.
She knows, and there's no reason to pour salt into the wound when she is innocent of her father's wrongdoings.
"And your mother?"
"Dead. A long time ago."
A flicker of sympathy crosses her face, "Mine too." The simple statement hangs in the air between us.
But I don't want to talk about the sad, dark things that haunt our pasts.
I want to talk about what happens now that she's mine.
I let the subject fade, and ask her instead about the wine, the food, and feel satisfaction when she has nothing but good things to say about it all.
I know she must be dying to ask about who is looking for her, or when she can return to her old life, but something is holding her back. That's for the better, though.
Elena thinks she's living in limbo, but little does she know, I want all of this to be forever.