3 - The Golden Cage

Alina

I woke with a start, chest heaving, my heart still trapped in the darkness of the nightmare. But it wasn’t a dream. It was real. The strange room. The high ceiling of dark wood. The scent of tobacco, leather, and smoke. The thick curtains blocking any natural light. The warmth of the still-burning fireplace licking the air with soft crackles.

I sat up slowly, cotton sheets sliding over my skin. I was wearing a black silk nightgown. It wasn’t mine. And that was enough to make my stomach turn. Someone had undressed me. Someone had touched my unconscious body. A chill of dread ran through me.

I stood up as quickly as I could, ignoring the weakness in my legs. The bed was huge, with an ornate canopy and embroidered pillows. Luxurious. The wooden floor creaked under my bare feet as I crossed the room to the door. I turned the knob forcefully. Locked.

— ANYONE THERE?! — I screamed, pounding on the wood. — LET ME OUT OF HERE!

Silence.

My body trembled, a mix of fear and adrenaline. I backed away from the door and began to examine the room. A built-in wardrobe with mirrored doors. A vanity with perfumes and makeup. A visibly expensive closet. Shoes lined up in color order. Everything was very organized. Very... planned. This wasn’t just any captivity. It was a golden cage.

The doorknob turned.

I stepped back, body alert. He entered with calm, almost elegant steps. Dante Morelli. Without the dark overcoat from the night before. He now wore a black linen shirt with the top buttons undone, revealing a line of chest hair. The lamp light cast shadows on the curves of his muscles. A predator, tamed only on the surface.

— Feeling more comfortable now? — he asked, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

— What did you do to me? — my voice faltered slightly. — Why am I wearing this?

He raised an eyebrow.

— You didn’t seem comfortable in a robe. I asked them to take care of your injuries and put you to rest. I thought you deserved some comfort.

— Comfort? You kidnapped me, you psychopath! — I charged forward, fists clenched. — Let me out now!

He didn’t move. Not even a blink.

— You're here because your father stained my blood. And now, your presence restores the balance.

— He died years ago! — I spat. — You're punishing an innocent girl for something she doesn’t even remember!

He pushed off the wall, and in three long steps, he was in front of me. So close I felt the heat of his body engulf me. His scent was woody, warm, and absurdly masculine. I tried not to breathe.

— Innocent? — He tilted his head, as if studying me. — Maybe. For now.

— What do you mean by that?

He didn’t answer. Just let his gaze slide slowly over my face, down my neck, to my exposed shoulders. My heart pounded so hard it hurt.

— There’s fire in your eyes, Alina Ribeiro. That intrigues me.

I shoved him away, but he grabbed my wrist firmly.

— Let go of me!

— Don’t make a scene. You’re wasting a chance to make this... bearable.

— You talk like this is some kind of contract. I didn’t sign anything! — I screamed, struggling against him. — I’m not your property!

He let go of me suddenly. I stepped back twice, chest heaving. He watched me as if analyzing the reaction of a captured wild animal.

— Get dressed. You’ll have dinner with me tonight.

— I’m not dining with you.

— You will. Because I said so. And you still don’t understand what happens to those who defy me.

— Then kill me! — I challenged. — It’ll be faster.

He walked to the door, opening it slowly. Before leaving, he looked over his shoulder, his dark eyes locked on mine.

— You’re brave, I admit. But that bravery will turn into submission. Eventually. — And then he disappeared.

---

Hours later, after silently crying, yelling at the walls, and trying unsuccessfully to break the window glass, I gave in. I took a long shower, trying to wash the scent of fear from my skin. I chose—against my will—a tight black dress, with thin straps and an open back. My legs trembled as I left the room.

Two men were waiting outside. Guards. Strong. Armed. One gestured for me to follow him. The other remained at the door. I felt like a princess prisoner being escorted in her own cursed castle.

We descended wide stairs and walked through silent hallways. Everything in the house was absurdly expensive: Renaissance paintings, marble sculptures, Persian rugs. And at the center of it all, there he was.

Dante. Sitting at the head of a long dining table. A wine glass in hand. Watching me like I was the main course.

— Sit — he ordered, pointing to the chair beside him.

I sat. Because I knew, at that moment, it was all I could do to survive.

— You’re more beautiful than I imagined. — He swirled the wine in his glass. — Black suits you.

— I’m here by force — I replied coldly. — Don’t forget that.

— I forget nothing, Alina.

Dinner was served by silent staff. There was caviar, smoked salmon, truffled mashed potatoes. Things I’d never have the money to taste. I ate very little. My stomach felt like a tight knot.

— How long will you keep me here? — I asked, without looking at him.

— As long as it takes.

— For what? To humiliate me even more?

— To make you understand that there is no freedom without consequence. — He set down his glass. — And that the world runs on blood debts.

— That’s medieval — I shot back. — Sick.

— Maybe. But also true.

The tension between us was like a rope about to snap. He looked at me as if he wanted to strip me down layer by layer. And the craziest part? Part of me wanted to see how far he’d go.

After dinner, Dante stood and walked over to me. He held out his hand. I didn’t touch it. He merely smiled.

— Come. I want to show you something.

I followed him, against every instinct. We passed through a library, a music hall. Until he opened a door that led to a glass conservatory. Outside, torches lit up the garden with a golden glow. A white grand piano rested in the center.

— Do you play? — he asked.

— I... not since I was a child.

— Try.

I sat hesitantly. Played a few scattered notes. He approached from behind, lowering himself beside me on the bench. His thigh touched mine. His large hands covered mine.

— Like this. — He whispered near my ear. — Relax your fingers.

I tried to ignore the heat rising up my neck.

— Do you always kidnap girls to teach them piano? — I teased.

He chuckled low.

— Only the special ones.

His hand slid from mine to my arm. Slowly. Intentionally. My whole body shivered. My heartbeat erratic.

— What do you want from me, Dante?

He turned my face with two fingers, with a disturbingly gentle touch.

— Everything. — he replied. — But I’ll start with your obedience.

Our faces were too close. Just one inch and... But I pulled away, breaking the contact. I felt ashamed of the frantic pulse between my legs. Of my body’s involuntary response to the touch of a man who held me captive.

He respected the distance. Stood up and walked to the door.

— Tomorrow we begin your lessons. I want to see how far your resistance goes.

— What are you going to teach me? How to behave like your doll?

He paused at the door, throwing me a glance over his shoulder.

— No. I want to teach you to surrender without realizing it. To desire me, even while hating me. — His eyes burned. — I want to make you beg to stay.

A sarcastic laugh escaped me.

— Not even in your wildest dreams.

He lifted one corner of his mouth in a smile, watching me for a few more moments.

Then he was gone, leaving me alone with the muffled sound of my own heartbeat, with his scent in the air... and the cruel certainty that my fight wasn’t just to escape that place.

It was to escape myself.