5. Gilly
Gilly
The SUV hums beneath me, the low vibration rattling through my bones as we approach the massive wrought-iron gates ahead. They loom like the entrance to a kingdom—his kingdom—and the second we reach them, they slide open without a sound.
Rafa shifts in my lap, his tiny fingers curling into the fabric of my blouse. He’s exhausted, his breathing deep and even, completely unaware of the storm waiting for us inside.
I, on the other hand, feel like I can’t breathe at all.
Luca sits beside me, silent, unreadable, his hand resting casually against his knee. Not gripping me. Not forcing me down. But his presence is an anchor, a reminder that even if I threw open the car door and ran, I wouldn’t make it far.
My stomach tightens as we roll down the long, palm tree-lined driveway, the mansion coming into view.
Not just a house.A fortress.
All glass and steel, cutting and modern, its sharp edges illuminated by warm golden lights spilling from the massive windows. It’s breathtaking in the worst way—cold, impersonal, and utterly inescapable.
The SUV slows to a stop beneath the towering arch of the front entrance.
I tighten my grip on Rafa.
Luca steps out first, moving with an ease that mocks my panic. The second he exits, a guard appears at his side, their murmured voices too low for me to hear.
The rear door swings open, and suddenly he’s there again—reaching for me.
“Get out.” His voice is smooth, firm. Not a demand. A command.
I don’t move.
His gaze flicks down to Rafa, and something in his expression shifts, just for a second. It’s not softness—Luca doesn’t know what softness is—but it’s different.
I take a slow breath and step out, careful not to wake Rafa.
The warm night air is thick with the scent of saltwater and jasmine, but it doesn’t soothe me. Not with the silent figures stationed at the edges of the property, shadows standing guard.
I swallow hard. There’s no way out of this.
Luca shuts the door behind me, his gaze dragging over me slowly. Measuring. Assessing.
He leans in slightly, his breath ghosting across my skin.
“Don’t make me carry you,” he murmurs, his tone too damn amused.
My fingers twitch at my sides.
I won’t give him the satisfaction of fighting now. Not here. Not in front of them.
So I walk.
The front doors open automatically, revealing a sprawling foyer that’s straight out of a magazine spread on wealth and power.
Marble floors stretch beneath towering ceilings, and floor-to-ceiling glass walls overlook the darkened ocean beyond. The chandelier overhead glows like something from another world.
But this isn’t another world.
It’s my prison.
Rafa stirs slightly in my arms, his tiny voice groggy and confused.
“Mama…” He lifts his head slightly, blinking up at the cavernous space around him. “Where are we?”
I shift my hold on him, pressing a kiss to his curls, trying to steady my breathing. Stay calm for him.
“We’re just somewhere new, baby.”
Luca’s low chuckle sends ice through my veins.
“He’ll get used to it.”
I whip around, my glare sharp enough to cut.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
Luca lifts a brow, completely unfazed. “I already did.”
I exhale sharply through my nose. I want to scream, shove him, run—but what good would it do?
Instead, I turn on my heel, marching deeper into the house.
Rafa’s fingers curl tighter in my blouse as I follow Luca up the grand staircase.
The hallways stretch wide, lined with expensive art and sleek, modern furniture that looks more like decoration than something meant to be used.
Everything about this house screams power and wealth—but there’s no warmth. No heart.
It doesn’t feel like a home.
Luca doesn’t stop until we reach a set of double doors at the end of the hallway.
He pushes them open, revealing a bedroom bigger than our entire apartment.
Soft navy walls, a massive bed covered in plush blankets, shelves filled with children’s books and toys—things I never could have afforded.
Rafa lifts his head, his small body going still in my arms. His big, sleepy eyes widen as he takes it all in.
I hate how perfect it is.
How it looks like it was built for him.
Like Luca had been planning this.
My stomach twists.
Rafa squirms in my hold. “Mama?”
I force a smile, pressing my lips to his curls. “It’s okay, baby. Just sleep.”
He stares at the soft gray stuffed bear on the bed, its button eyes gleaming in the dim light. His little fingers twitch, and before I can stop him, he reaches for it.
He clutches it close to his chest, his eyes fluttering shut again.
My heart clenches.
Damn him.
Damn Luca for making this so easy for Rafa. For making this feel safe when I know it isn’t.
I carefully place my son in bed, tucking the blankets around him like a protective shield.
He doesn’t stir.
The exhaustion of the day weighs on him, dragging him down into sleep.
My fingers tremble as I smooth his curls.
The only thing I care about is keeping him safe.
I straighten, bracing myself, then turn to find Luca leaning against the doorframe, watching me with that unreadable expression.
A shiver slithers down my spine.
I swallow hard. “I want to stay with him.”
Luca exhales, shaking his head. “He’s safe.”
I step forward, my fists clenching. “That’s not your choice.”
His smirk is slow, infuriating. “Everything is my choice now, Gilly.”
I want to slap that look off his face.
Instead, I exhale sharply, forcing my voice low. “If he wakes up and I’m not here, he’ll be scared.”
Luca tilts his head slightly, studying me.
Then, to my shock, he shrugs.
“You can sit with him. For a little while. Just so you know, some of my most trusted full-time staff will assist in looking after him.”
A flicker of relief rushes through me, but I don’t trust it.
Luca never gives without taking something in return.
Time passes in heavy silence.
I sit in the plush chair beside Rafa’s bed, my arms wrapped around my stomach, staring at the slow rise and fall of his tiny chest.
Luca doesn’t leave.
He doesn’t speak.
He just leans against the doorway, watching me like a predator waiting for his prey to get tired of running.
Finally, he pushes off the frame and moves into the room, his steps slow and deliberate.
I tense immediately.
He stops beside me, his presence a dark force pressing against my skin.
“You can’t sit here all night,” he murmurs.
I don’t look at him.
“I’m not leaving him alone.”
Luca lets out a low hum, like he finds my defiance amusing.
Then he leans down, his lips brushing against my ear as he speaks.
“You sleep in my house,” he murmurs.
The words sink into my bones, cold and inescapable.
I turn my head sharply, glaring at him.
His next words are soft, dangerous.
“My bed? That’s up to you.”
My breath catches.
Heat burns through me—rage, frustration, something darker.
He’s toying with me. Enjoying this.
I lift my chin, forcing my voice steady.
“I’d rather sleep in hell.”
Luca chuckles, the sound low and knowing.
“Then you’ll be right at home.”
I don’t move.
Luca’s words still hang in the air, thick and suffocating.
"You sleep in my house. My bed? That’s up to you."
His voice lives in my head now, threading through my pulse, curling around me like invisible chains.
I rip my gaze away, forcing my body into motion.
“Goodnight, Luca,” I say stiffly.
I don’t wait for a response.
I step around him, my heartbeat a frantic drum in my ears, and slip into the hallway.
I don’t hear him follow.
But I feel him watching.
The heat of his gaze burns against my spine as I make my way toward the guest bedroom—the room he allowed me to have.
That thought makes my stomach churn.
I don’t stop until I reach the door.
I step inside and shut it with more force than necessary, twisting the lock with a sharp click.
The sound echoes in the quiet.
A useless barrier.
Because we both know—
A locked door won’t keep him out forever.
I press my forehead against the wood, sucking in slow, shaky breaths.
I need to think.
To breathe.
To pretend I still have control over something.
But when I finally turn around and take in the room—I realize I don’t.
It’s beautiful.
Larger than my entire apartment. Cold, impersonal, luxurious.
A king-sized bed with crisp white sheets. A sleek, dark dresser. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the ocean beyond the cliffs, the moonlight stretching across the endless black water.
It should be stunning.
It should be breathtaking.
Instead, it feels like a cage.
A beautiful, gilded prison designed to keep me exactly where Luca wants me.
My stomach twists.
I rush to the windows, hands shaking as I try to pry them open.
Locked.
Of course they are.
I move to the sliding balcony doors next, jiggling the handle, testing every inch of glass.
Nothing.
A quiet, humorless laugh escapes my lips.
I already knew I wouldn’t find a way out.
But the realization still steals the air from my lungs.
No escape.
No choices.
No way to run.
I stumble back, my heart hammering.
The room suddenly feels smaller, the walls pressing in on me.
My breath comes too fast, my hands trembling at my sides.
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to steady.
Panic won’t help me.
Not now.
Not when I need to think.
I dig my nails into my palms, inhaling through my nose.
I can’t break down.
Not yet.
Not when Luca is waiting for it.
His Presence Lingers
I force myself to move.
I cross the room, rip back the covers, and collapse onto the bed, pressing my palms against my tired eyes.
I’m so damn exhausted.
Every muscle in my body is wound too tight, strung with tension that won’t snap.
But worst of all—
Even with the locked door.
Even with the silence.
Even with the distance between us.
I can still feel him.
His presence lingers in my bones, his voice curling around my mind, his touch still burning on my skin.
I hate it.
Hate that he’s in my head.
Hate that a part of me still remembers.
The way he looked at me. The way he touched me. The way his lips brushed against my ear when he whispered, Then you’ll be right at home.
I clench my teeth, turning my face into the pillow.
I won’t let him get to me.
I won’t let him win.
But as I lie there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant sound of the ocean against the cliffs…
I realize something far worse than being locked inside this house.
I can lock him out of my room.
I can lock him out of my bed.
But I can’t lock him out of my mind.
And that?
That terrifies me most of all.