Chapter 16
Dante
She spoke to him. The delivery boy. Just three words— "Thank you very much" —but they might as well have been a dagger to my chest. My blood goes cold, then burns, at the memory of it. Hannah's voice—soft, polite, directed at someone who isn't me. Someone who has no claim to her attention, her courtesy, her voice.
I watch the security footage again, my grip tightening on the tablet. Over and over, those three words play in my mind as I pace my office. Three words that shouldn't have been spoken. Three words that scream defiance, no matter how unintentional. A betrayal, however small, that requires correction.
I rewind the footage, watching Hannah answer the door, accepting the package with a slight smile. Innocuous to anyone else—but I see it. The unnecessary eye contact. The momentary connection. A crack in the carefully constructed walls I've built around her.
Unacceptable.
Vincent appears at my door, face neutral, but he knows better than to interrupt my brooding. "The room is prepared, sir, as you requested."
"And the delivery boy?"
"Reassigned. He won't have any further access to the main house."
I should have him killed. It's what my instincts demand. But eliminating staff over minor infractions draws attention. And this... this is Hannah's failing, not his. The boy was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. She is the one who forgot herself. She is the one who must be reminded.
"Bring Hannah to my office. Now."
Vincent nods and disappears. I set the tablet down, straightening my cuffs as I stare out the window. The high walls of my estate rise in the distance, a fortress designed to keep the world out—and Hannah in. A controlled environment, just like her existence under my hand. Safety through ownership. Love through absolute possession.
The door opens behind me, and I don't need to turn to know it's her. The subtle shift in the air, the faint tremble of her presence—it tells me everything. She's already afraid. Good. Fear is a foundation upon which devotion is built.
"Leave us," I command Vincent.
The door clicks shut, and silence blankets the room. I turn slowly, my gaze finding her immediately. She's wearing the dress I chose this morning, her hair styled the way I like. My marks are still faintly visible on her neck—a silent proclamation of possession. And yet... she spoke to another man. A breach of loyalty, no matter how small.
I approach her slowly, circling like a predator. She stands still, hands clasped in front of her, head lowered. Learned submission—but not complete. Not yet.
"You spoke to the delivery boy," I say, voice deceptively calm.
Her breath catches. "I—I thanked him. It was automatic. I didn't mean?—"
"And that's the problem," I cut her off, stepping directly in front of her. "You didn't think. You forgot the rules that govern your existence."
Her chin trembles as I lift it, forcing her to meet my gaze. "What are those rules, Hannah? Remind me."
Her voice is barely a whisper. "I speak only when spoken to. I interact only with those you approve. I exist for you alone."
"And yet..." My thumb drags across her lower lip, lingering. "You thanked him. You looked him in the eye. You offered a piece of yourself that does not belong to you. It belongs to me."
Tears pool in her eyes, but she doesn't cry. She's learned better than that. "It meant nothing. I was just being polite?—"
"It meant everything ," I snarl, my hand snapping around her throat. I don't squeeze—just a firm reminder of my control. Her pulse races under my palm, frantic, submissive. Perfect . "Every word from your mouth, every glance from your eyes, every breath you take exists for me. You do not get to forget that."
"I'm sorry," she chokes out. "I didn't mean to?—"
"Intent is irrelevant," I snap. "The result is what matters. That boy now believes he is worthy of your attention. You've given him something that was never yours to give. Do you understand how dangerous that is?"
Her lip trembles. " Yes. "
"Good." I release her, watching her stumble slightly before righting herself. "But an apology is not enough. You need a reminder of your place."
She blanches, but doesn't speak. Smart girl. She already knows what's coming.
I press the intercom. "Bring her in."
The door opens, and Marco steps in. Hannah's entire body tenses. Her fear is palpable—but not of Marco. Of what his presence signifies.
"Come," I say, holding out my hand. "There's something you need to see."
Hesitation flashes in her eyes, but she places her hand in mine, allowing me to lead her from the office. We walk in silence, Marco following discreetly. We descend a flight of stairs she's never seen before, enter a hallway with a single door at the end.
The room is pristine. Comfortable, even. A queen-sized bed, a private bathroom, a bookshelf filled with carefully curated novels—ones that won't encourage independent thought. Soft lighting. Beautiful, but unyielding. Just like me.
Her voice trembles. "What is this place?"
"Your room," I say simply. "For the next seventy-two hours."
Her eyes widen. " You're locking me in here? "
I turn to face her. " I'm protecting you. Protecting you from the temptation to make further mistakes. Protecting us from disorder. You need time to reflect, to remember who you belong to."
Panic flickers in her expression. " Dante, please ? — "
"No." My tone brooks no argument. " This is the consequence of forgetting your place." I gesture to the cameras in the corners. "I'll be watching you. Always. Monitoring your progress, ensuring you internalize this lesson."
She takes a step back, disbelief breaking through her composure. "All this... because I said thank you ?"
"No." I step closer, my hand cupping her jaw. "All this because you forgot who you belong to . Every word you speak, every glance you give, every part of you is mine. And if you ever forget that again... the consequences will be far worse than isolation."
Tears finally spill down her cheeks, but I feel no sympathy. Only satisfaction. She will learn. She will remember. She will become exactly what I need her to be—mine in mind, body, and soul.
I step back. "Three days. No human contact. No voice except your own. By the end, you'll understand why you never speak to another man again."
I turn, walking toward the door. Before I leave, I offer one final reminder. " You exist for me, Hannah. Only me. Never forget that again. "
And then I close the door.
Locking her in.
Exactly where she belongs.