Chapter 5: The Proposal.

Relief washed over Irene as Diego's deep voice cut through the darkness.

“I need to know if you can hear me,” he called out again.

She lay there, huddled in a corner, the sound of his voice wrapping around her like a warm blanket, with a promise of salvation.

His tone was different.

He sounded gentle, and she found solace in that.

Her mind quickly recoiled at her reaction to his presence.

She wasn't supposed to feel comforted, not by him, not after everything he had done to her.

Had her time in this damp, cold cell already fractured her mind?

Was she so desperate for human connection that she would cling to the same man who had left her here to die?

Irene's thoughts swirled with confusion, but one thing was certain, Diego's presence brought her hope.

Something she desperately needed in this moment.

She gathered strength, shuffling out of the dark corner of the cell, to face him.

"Diego...please...let me out. I'm dying." she breathed out, grasping at the iron bar.

He paused and for a moment, she could sense his sigh of relief.

Did he care that she was still alive?

Or he was disappointed she survived?

Whatever it was, she dreaded finding out.

"Will you submit to my authority now, Irene?"

Disappointed, she sank back.

He was here to gloat after all.

Her response was a weak, pitiful cry. "Please...Diego...you don't need to do this."

Diego's question came again, harsher this time.

“Answer me, will you submit?" He sneered.

She recoiled, shocked by his outburst.

There was no reason for her to keep holding on to her freedom. Not when her life was at stake.

Why not surrender and live to fight another day?

"Y-yes,” she choked out, his voice breaking.

"I need to hear you say it, Irene.”

Her voice cracked as she said the words.

“I will submit to you completely...and serve you...as my Lord."

The words tasted sour in her mouth.

She dropped to the floor, defeated.

Then, Diego's final question cut through her like a knife.

“Will you marry me?"

She scoffed, too dumbfounded to put words together.

This was classic Diego, proposing to a woman he had imprisoned and treated as lesser than an animal.

The absurdity of it all was too much to bear.

A stray tear traced a path down her cheeks.

“I'll marry you, Diego. I have no choice."

"See, it wasn't that hard,” he said, satisfied with himself.

As they conversed, Camilla rushed in with a few men.

“Please, let us take care of Irene. You should take your leave, lord Diego. It's not okay for you to be down here."

“This place is diseased.”

Diego's gaze never wavered from Irene.

"Open the cell door." He ordered.

Camilla was confused, but she obeyed.

As the door creaked open, Camilla stepped forward with the guards, only to be stopped by Diego's command. "Leave us. I'll handle her myself."

Her shock was evident, but she quietly retreated with the guards.

Diego walked over to Irene's fragile form, scooping her up in his arms, bridal-style.

She didn't struggle, didn't resist. She simply caved into his embrace.

Fighting him didn't matter anymore.

As Diego carried her down the hallway, her hazy mind got buried with questions.

What did he want from her?

What sort of twisted game was he playing with her?

She passed out in Diego's arms, a fragile, broken thing, at the mercy of the man who had destroyed her.

He carried her up through the hallway, up into his suite.

He took her into the bathroom and gently laid Irene in the tub, then he began to remove her filthy clothes.

He touched her tenderly, leaving her bra and pants on as he turned on the water.

He bathed her.

Afterward, he lifted her out of the tub and carried her to his king-sized bed.

As he laid her down, his hand hovered above her pale cheek.

Irene's delicate beauty was evident, even in sleep.

Her soft features were perfect, from her round face to her cupid lips, she was almost flawless.

She woke up with a panic attack, panting like she had a nightmare.

She looked around disorientedly, stunned by the unfamiliar surroundings.

The room screamed of old money and high-end luxury.

A vintage mirror hung on the wall, the frame carved like a lion’s majestic head.

Golden rays of the sun shone in from the floor to ceiling windows that had the perfect view of a valley beyond the estate.

There were several statues of bizarre objects and artifacts, lined up on a black marbled table.

She knew for sure that this was Diego’s bedroom.

He had brought her from the dungeon, up here for what?

Diego’s face swam into focus above her, his dark eyes unreadable.

He didn't speak.

He simply walked over to her, an injection in his hand.

Irene's eyes widened as the needle pierced her skin, but the burning feeling that followed was far more intense.

"It's Valium," he said, his voice low.

"It will help with the stress."

The medicine flowed through her veins, a surge of heat and nausea washing over her.

Then, slowly, she started to relax, sinking into the bed.

A strange numbness spread through her, dulling the sharp edges of her despair.

She tried to focus her eyes, but her vision blurred.

Diego was still there, watching her.

His countenance remained cold and emotionless.

"Rest well.”

“You will need your strength."

Rest? Why?

As if he could read her thoughts, Diego's eyes lit up with triumph, a sly smirk spreading across his face as he delivered the shocking news.

"We have a wedding tomorrow."

She closed her eyes, wishing everything could just go away and she could have her life back.

But she knew her sufferings had just started and the worst days were yet to come.