Chapter Eight CHIARA
When I woke up, the first thing I remembered was the engagement ring Leo Moretti had put on my finger. While I was still in the plush bed, I stared at the huge stone, glittering in the morning light. There was no doubt it was a priceless piece of jewelry, but it was still one I didn’t want.
Once I got up, something felt off, and I knew something was wrong the moment I saw the bedroom door half-open.
It shouldn’t have been. It never was. The door sat there, still, untouched, like it had been waiting for me to notice it, like it had been left that way on purpose. I didn’t move at first. Just stood there, staring at it, my pulse beginning to climb in slow, careful beats.
Nothing about Leo Moretti was careless. Which meant this wasn’t, either. Clearly it was a test.
I took a step forward anyway. The floor felt colder beneath my bare feet than it should have, grounding me, reminding me this was real. Another step. The air felt thinner the closer I got, like a noose was tightening around me, warning me without words.
My fingers hovered over the handle, so close. Just one movement and just one decision. Would he punish me for it?
“Thinking about it?” Leo’s voice slid through the room like a blade.
I froze. He was inches away, in the hallway, staring at me through the gap in the door. His arms were loose at his sides, his attention fixed entirely on me. Watching. Always watching, controlled and measured. Like every second had already been calculated.
He pushed the door open. “Come out.”
My stomach tightened.
“Go on,” he said, pushing off the wall, taking one step toward me, then another. “Come here.”
My breath caught slightly. “You’d let me leave my room?”
He stopped just close enough that I felt him again. Not touching, not quite… But there, pressing into my space, making it his without effort.
“Run if you want,” he said quietly. “I won’t even follow.”
That was worse than if he’d threatened to chase me down the street. There was no anger in his voice. No threat. Just certainty that I would obey his orders no matter what.
“Why are you giving me this fake freedom?” I asked. “Is it just a test?”
His gaze held mine, dark and steady, something unreadable flickering beneath it. “Because I want to see if you understand what happens next.”
The silence stretched between us heavy and thick with tension. I looked at the door again, really looked this time, not at the handle, but beyond it. The hallway. The exit. The illusion of freedom that didn’t belong to me anymore. Then I stepped back.
“I told you already,” I said. “I’m not stupid. I know you’re testing me.”
His mouth curved, faint but real this time. Not kind. Not warm. Approval.
“No,” he murmured. “You certainly are not stupid. Get dressed.”
I blinked. “For what?”
“Breakfast,” he replied with a calm smile. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, and you sure as fuck aren’t going to do it in that see-through nightdress.”
A flush crept into my cheeks and I hugged myself. I didn’t even realize the dress was sheer, but now that he said it, I could feel my hard nipples poking through the white lace. I frowned. “Where are you dragging me off to this time?”
His gaze didn’t leave mine. “Just to the dining room. I could drag you, of course. But I think you’d enjoy that a little too much, and I don’t want to give you too much pleasure. Not until you beg for it.”
My lips tightened into a line as he took something off the hallway table, then offered me a simple, but expensive looking box. “Your dress is in there. Put it on and make yourself presentable. Then come out so we can get this over with.”
“Why?” I demanded. “I’d rather just stay here.”
“Do it,” he said. “And there might be a reward in it for you.”
I swallowed and accepted the package, closing the door myself.
It felt like a luxury to be able to lock him out of my space, but I still hated how my body mourned the loss of his closeness.
No matter how hard I tried to hate Leo Moretti, this stupid, hot and needy feeling crept into me every time he was near me.
Once alone, I ripped into the package. The light blue fabric slid out of the box like quicksilver.
It was gorgeous - a design Papa would have deemed inappropriate for me.
Something I’d stare at in a magazine, stroking the pages, wishing I could have something like it.
I felt an immense rush of gratitude for The Serpent, but forced myself to replace it with more anger.
The dress was too soft. That was the first thing I noticed when I pulled it over my head, the fabric sliding down my skin like water, settling into place like it belonged there, like it knew my shape better than I did.
It didn’t feel like something I had chosen.
It felt like something I had been placed into.
Like everything else in this stupid, luxurious penthouse, including the fact that Leo knew my size without ever asking me.
I adjusted the strappy dress slowly, fingers lingering at the fabric longer than necessary, grounding myself in the sensation, the texture, anything that wasn’t Leo Moretti and his overwhelming presence that made my heart go crazy.
In the closet, there were some pairs of shoes that would have gone beautifully with the dress, but I didn’t trust my ankle enough to wear heels after my unsuccessful escape attempt.
I chose to go barefoot instead, telling myself it was another way to piss Leo off, and maybe make him change his mind about me. Let me go.
I still didn’t understand why I was locked up in his home.
Why, out of all the gorgeous girls who would have been eager to climb into his bed, did he pick me?
The only one unwilling to please him. Maybe this was all a game to him, but it was my life he’d taken, my reputation he’d ruined, and my body disobeying my mind every time he was near me. I hated him for it.
Once I’d brushed my hair and applied some light makeup that was waiting on the vanity, I stared at my reflection.
I’d left my hair down, telling myself it was a form of rebellion against Papa.
But my mind was screaming at me, saying I did it to please Leo Moretti.
Angrily, I twisted the strands into a long braid.
I wouldn’t do anything to please him. I was determined to make him dislike me enough to let me go back home.
I forced myself to leave the bedroom before I could lose my nerve.
The penthouse was quieter in the morning, the sharp edges of it softened by pale sunlight pouring through the massive windows. Still too expensive, and much too polished. Too much like Leo Moretti himself. Beautiful in a way that felt dangerous.
Leo stood near the end of the hallway waiting for me, already dressed in black slacks and a crisp button-down with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, exposing muscles inked with tattoos. His attention lifted slowly from his phone to me, dragging over every inch of my body with deliberate patience.
Heat crawled up my neck. His gaze lingered on the dress. The braid hanging over my shoulder, a direct fuck you to his orders, trying to make me wear it down. Then, his eyes finally lowered to my bare feet. His expression darkened slightly.
“Where are your shoes?” he asked.
I crossed my arms. “My ankle still hurts.”
“You could’ve said something,” he muttered.
“I just did, didn’t I?” I bit back.
His jaw ticked once, irritation flashing beneath that calm mask of his. Not explosive anger. Worse. Controlled anger. The kind that sat quietly before it poisoned someone. Without looking away from me, he spoke over his shoulder.
“Sergio.”
A man stepped out from the dining room like he’d been standing there the entire time.
He was shorter than Leo, but still just as dangerous looking, and also wearing a dark suit, and a darker expression.
Older than Leo by at least five years, with sharp eyes that swept over the hallway in assessment before briefly landing on me.
Then he looked right past me like I was a piece of furniture.
“Yes, boss?” he asked, as if I wasn’t even in the room.
“Call the doctor again,” Leo said.
I frowned. “No.”
Neither man looked at me. Leo continued calmly, “Tell him to come now.”
“I said no.” My voice sharpened as I stepped forward. “My ankle is fine.”
Sergio pulled his phone from his pocket without urgency, like this conversation had absolutely nothing to do with him. “On it, boss.”
“I don’t want your doctor,” I snapped. “I don’t want anything from you.”
Leo finally looked at me again. “You can barely walk properly.”
“I can walk just fine,” I insisted.
“Barefoot.”
“That was a choice,” I hissed.
His eyes dropped once more to my feet before lifting slowly back to mine. “A stupid one. Just like that hairstyle.”
I opened my mouth, but Sergio spoke first.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered dryly, still scrolling through his contacts. “One week engaged and you already sound married.”
Leo’s stare cut toward him. Sergio didn’t even blink. “What? You asked for honesty.”
“I asked for the doctor,” Leo said in a cold, prim tone.
“And the tiny little wifey says no doctor.” Sergio finally looked at me directly for the first time, completely unimpressed. “Looks like you’re losing authority already, boss.”
“I’m not his wife,” I shot back.
Sergio snorted softly. “That’s cute coming from someone wearing boss’ engagement ring. Is she always this feisty?”
Leo’s expression remained unreadable, but there was something dangerous sitting beneath it now. Something almost amused.
“She likes to argue,” he said. "Part of her charm.”
“I like to be treated like a human being,” I fought back.
“No,” Leo replied calmly. “You like provoking me. See where that gets you. Now, let’s eat.”