Chapter 2

ISADORA

I woke up in an unfamiliar bed, surrounded by a room that practically screamed wealth and power. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where I was—this had to be Luca Morretti’s house. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, piecing together the events of last night.

Wow, Isadora, you really delivered yourself right to the devil. I facepalmed, feeling the sting of my own stupidity.

Looking down, I noticed I was still wearing the same clothes from last night. I let out a deep sigh of relief, thankful for that small mercy. Just as I sat up, the door creaked open, making me jump.

A woman, probably in her mid-thirties, walked in, carrying a breakfast tray. Her movements were careful, deliberate, and behind her, a guard—tall, armed, and stone-faced—stood by the door like a silent threat.

“You’re awake, Miss. I’m Anna,” she said with a polite, almost rehearsed smile. “Mr. Morretti asked me to tend to you. He left earlier, something important came up. He also asked me to give you this.”

She handed me a folded piece of paper.

Don’t even think of escaping.

The note was simple, but it might as well have been a steel cage locking around me. My stomach sank, and as if on cue, my phone buzzed. Seeing my mom’s name flash on the screen, I rolled my eyes and answered it.

“What do you want, Mom?” I snapped, my voice sharper than intended.

“Isadora? Thank God you’re okay, I was worri—”

“You choose to defy me over and over again, Isadora,” my father’s cold, measured voice cut through, stealing the phone from my mother. My chest tightened as my grip on the phone faltered.

“Well, lucky for me,” he continued, his tone smug and laced with amusement, “you delivered yourself to him. Stay there. The wedding date has already been set, and you’re getting engaged this weekend.”

I heard him chuckle like this was some kind of joke, but the weight of his words made my blood turn ice-cold.

Anger surged, hot and overwhelming. Without thinking, I flung the phone at the wall, watching it shatter into useless pieces. My breathing was heavy and ragged as I turned to Anna, who stood frozen, a mix of fear and concern etched on her face.

“I’m not hungry,” I said sharply, the anger bleeding into my voice. “And I’d like to be alone.”

She hesitated, clutching the tray nervously. “Mr. Morretti instructed me to make sure you ate, Miss.”

“Fine.” I stepped closer, my glare sharp enough to cut. “Drop the tray and leave.”

Her eyes darted to the guard at the door, as if silently asking for permission. When she received no response, she placed the tray on the table and backed away. “If you need anything, just call,” she said quietly before slipping out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, I waited a few minutes before walking to it, testing the handle. Locked. Just as I expected. I moved to the windows, peering out only to find iron bars bolted in place. Below, guards patrolled the grounds like clockwork. More guards than we ever had at home.

I scanned the room, eyes darting to every corner, every shadow. No cameras were visible, but I wasn’t naive enough to believe I wasn’t being watched. Luca Morretti didn’t seem like the kind of man to leave things to chance.

I started pacing, my mind racing with possibilities. Escape? Unlikely with his men everywhere. Compliance? Over my dead body.

My stomach growled loudly, but I ignored it. My instincts told me not to eat or drink anything. What if it was drugged? I’d rather be parched than fall into his trap any further.

By noon, Anna returned with lunch, placing it beside the untouched breakfast. The guard from earlier remained stationed by the door, his eyes never leaving me. I refused to eat. When dinner came, I did the same. My body felt weak, but I was too stubborn to give in.

Lying facedown on the bed, I heard the door unlock again. Assuming it was Anna, I didn’t move, barely sparing the noise a thought.

“Hunger strike? How unoriginal.”

The voice sent a jolt through me. I shot up too quickly, the lack of food and water making my head spin. My knees buckled, and before I could hit the ground, strong arms caught me.

Luca Morretti.

“Get away from me,” I spat, trying to push him off, but my strength was no match for his.

He didn’t let go, his grip firm but not painful. His dark eyes bore into mine, a mix of annoyance and something else I couldn’t quite place.

“You’re in my house, Isadora,” he said, his voice low and dangerously calm. “If you think you can starve your way out of this, you’re even more naive than I thought.”

"Let go of me!" I snapped, twisting and struggling against his firm hold.

“Now, now, Isadora,” he drawled, his voice dripping with irritation. “I am going to let you go. But first, I’ll call Anna, the one I tasked with making sure you ate, to bring you fresh food and water. And here’s the deal, I expect you to eat before I get back from my shower. Then, we’ll have a civilized conversation. If you don’t…” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper. “I’ll force-feed you like a child.”

I glared up at him, defiance burning in my chest. “I’m not eating any of your drugged food.”

“Drugged?” His laugh was sharp and mocking, his head tilting back as if I’d just delivered the punchline to a joke. It was infuriating how effortless it looked. And damn him for being so ridiculously good-looking while acting like the devil himself.

“I assure you, Isadora,” he said with a smirk, “your food is not laced with any drug.”

“Like I’d trust your word,” I scoffed, crossing my arms.

“Wise girl,” he admitted, his smirk widening. “But it doesn’t matter. Either way, you’ll be eating.”

He released me abruptly, the warmth of his touch disappearing as he straightened and turned toward the door. Without another word, he walked out, leaving the air thick with tension.