Chapter Fifteen Ella
Chapter Fifteen
Ella
When Mariella comes to collect me for dinner, I tell her once more that I’m not going.
She doesn’t argue. Just gives me that polite, sympathetic smile that says she already knows how this will end.
Not five minutes later, two servers arrive in my room and begin setting up a dinner table by the windows. Crisp linen, polished silverware, candles, the whole elaborate setup.
As if this were some romantic evening and not a hostage negotiation.
Moments later, Gualtiero strolls in behind them, looking entirely too pleased with himself. His dark eyes sweep the room, then land on me, a triumphant smile already forming as if he knew exactly how this would play out.
Argh. That man.
He’s so infuriating.
The servers finish arranging the dishes and slip quietly out, leaving the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread drifting through the room. My stomach betrays me with a low rumble.
Gualtiero notices, of course. He notices everything.
He pulls out the chair for me, and I reluctantly sit down. Ah well, I might as well eat something. I need to keep up my strength, right?
Without a word, he pours me a glass of wine and sets it in front of me before taking the seat opposite. There is a restless energy about him tonight, something sharp beneath his usual calm. His gaze keeps flicking toward me, almost expectant.
Good. Let him anticipate.
I have a few things to say. And I’m not bothering with niceties.
“I want my luggage back.”
Why waste time dancing around the issue?
Gualtiero actually looks surprised. I suppose in his mind I should be thrilled with the designer wardrobe he has chosen for me.
“Why?” he asks lightly. “Do you not like your new things? If that’s the case, I’m happy to take you shopping and buy whatever you desire.”
“For the record, I hate shopping,” I reply flatly. “And what I desire are my own clothes. Some of my toiletries are missing as well. I want them back.”
Namely my birth control pills.
I haven’t been able to take them since my abduction, and the thought sits heavy in my stomach. If he were ever to force himself on me, the last thing I want is a child as the byproduct of this insanity.
I wish I’d listened to Rhia when she tried to convince me to get the shot instead. One injection would have protected me for months and saved me from worrying about forgetting a pill or whether it would still work if I got sick.
But hindsight is always painfully clear.
“I’d like my workout gear too,” I continue, forcing my voice to remain calm. “My yoga pants. My shorts.”
“I will have Mariella pick up some new exercise clothes for you.”
“For God’s sake, Gualtiero, I want my own clothes. What is wrong with you?” I burst out, exasperated.
He studies me for a long moment, his expression as unreadable as ever.
“They belong to your old life,” he says finally, as if explaining something obvious to a stubborn child. “That life no longer exists.”
His gaze settles on me with quiet certainty.
“You’re my queen now, Ella. And you only wear the finest.”
Under normal circumstances, a declaration like that might make my heart melt. Right now, it only fuels my anger.
“God, you piss me off.”
His eyes darken instantly.
“Watch your language, princess. Nobody speaks to me this way. I won’t tolerate it.”
The warning in his voice is quiet but unmistakable.
About time someone did, I think. But I’m not foolish enough to say it out loud. Who knows what reaction that might provoke.
I take a steadying breath and try again.
“Look, Gualtiero, I feel comfortable in my own clothes,” I say, attempting reason. “I don’t understand what’s so wrong with that.”
He exhales slowly, irritation sparking in his eyes.
Good, I’m finally getting under his cool, controlled facade.
“Stop calling me by my full name,” he says evenly after a beat.
My eyes widen. What?
“You call me Tiero.”
“You’re changing the subject,” I reply, ignoring his remark just as he ignores mine. “Please give me back my things.”
“I’ve said all there is to say,” he replies. “You’re mine now, Ella. You will dress the part. End of story.”
Oh, this is so not the end of the story.
My blood is boiling, and if my eyes could shoot daggers, he’d be riddled with them.
Two can play the stubborn game.
I push back my chair and rise to my feet, rage surging through me. I pin the man I thought I’d fallen in love with only days ago with a glare so fierce it feels like the air between us might crackle.
“Listen to me, Gualtiero Leandro De Marco, and listen well,” I say deliberately. “I’m nobody’s property, least of all yours. Nobody owns me or tells me what to do. I’m not a Barbie doll you get to dress however you like.”
He merely shrugs.
The gesture infuriates me even more. He damn well knows there’s nothing I can do about any of it.
I draw in a slow breath, forcing my anger back under control.
“I also need my birth control pills back,” I add. “They help regulate my periods.”
There. I said what I really wanted to say.
I wish I didn’t have to spell it out like that. The last thing I want is to draw attention to anything involving sex or babies.
He studies me for a moment, his gaze steady, and it takes real effort to remain standing tall and keep my face neutral beneath that scrutiny.
“I’ll have Dr. Agosti look into it,” is all he says.
Not what I wanted to hear. But it’s a start.
I sit back down and take a long sip of my wine.
“What exactly do you imagine me doing here in my prison all day?” I ask. “I’m already bored out of my mind.”
“You can do whatever your heart desires.”
“My heart desires to go home.”
“We’ve covered that. You are home.”
“Ireland is home.”
He ignores the remark as if I’d never spoken.
“You determine how much of a prison this becomes,” he continues calmly. “When things between us return to normal and I can trust you again, you’ll be able to go out for the day.”
He pauses, his gaze sharpening. “With security, of course. That part will never change.”
Naturally. Why would it? This is so normal.
“You see,” he adds, leaning back in his chair as though explaining something perfectly reasonable, “it’s entirely up to you. Return to me fully and your freedom increases.”
Then he winks.
He actually winks.
The nerve of the man.
“In the meantime,” he continues casually, “if you’d like, I can get you a few puppies to train. There are blind people on this island who would be thrilled to have a guide dog. Just say the word and I’ll make it happen.”
I don’t answer right away, turning the idea over in my mind. But it takes a backseat to what he said before.
“I assume when you talk about returning to you fully, you mean us having sex again?” I ask, watching him closely.
“Among other things,” he replies, a lazy, predatory smile spreading across his face.
“In your dreams.”
I have absolutely no intention of returning things to normal with my captor.
But the puppies…
That part gives me pause.
Training dogs could be an excellent distraction from the misery of being trapped here, something productive that might keep the loneliness at bay before it inevitably creeps in.
Before I can ask anything more, the servers return with dessert. One of them attempts to set a plate with a delicate-looking mousse in front of me, but I wave him away.
“You’ve hardly touched your dinner,” Gualtiero observes. “That’s not like you.”
I’ve only nibbled on a piece of bread. Once our conversation started, eating was the last thing on my mind.
“Being kidnapped will do that to a girl,” I reply dryly.
He rises slowly and circles my chair. I stiffen as he stops beside me.
Then he leans down, his breath warm against my ear.
“Even if it was well intended?” he murmurs softly. “Even if the man in question only did it because he found the love of his life and couldn’t bear to let her go?”
To my utter annoyance, my heart skips a beat.
When is my body going to catch up with the fact that we loathe this man and his high-handed ways?
Gualtiero gently lifts my hand and brings it to his lips. The kiss is light, almost reverent.
Electricity hums through me, heightening every sense, making me painfully aware of his closeness.
He releases my hand and drops it back into my lap before returning to his seat, a broad smirk spreading across his infuriatingly handsome face. He knows exactly what his nearness is doing to me.
Bastard.
“Now, princess,” he says.
The amusement vanishes from his expression instantaneously.
“There’s another matter we need to settle between us.”
His entire demeanor changes. The ease from seconds ago is replaced by something hard and controlled. When he speaks again, his voice is sharp enough to send a chill down my spine.
“We need to talk about your attempt to run away from me.”