3 - Under His Skin

Amara

The towel feels too heavy against my skin as I step out of the en suite bathroom, the steam curling around me like a suffocating blanket. I keep the towel wrapped tight, refusing to let this situation overwhelm me. I’ve scrubbed my skin raw trying to get rid of the blood, but I can still feel it. I can still smell it.

My reflection in the mirror had been a reminder of everything that’s happened—blood still stuck to the roots of my hair, bruises forming where Matteo’s hands had yanked and dragged me.

When I open the wardrobe door, I freeze. 

Inside, rows of clothes hang neatly on golden rods. Dresses, jeans, blouses, shoes lined up like soldiers on parade. It’s all pristine, untouched, like something out of a high-end boutique. My fingers brush against one of the tags, and when I look at the size, my blood runs cold.

It’s my size. Every single piece right down to the underwear.

I yank a pair of pants off the hanger and hold them up, then toss them aside and grab a blouse. Same thing. Perfect fit.

“How the hell…” I murmur, anger bubbling up like boiling water. How long have they been watching me? How long have they been planning this? My life, my routines—have they been monitoring everything?

The thought makes my blood boil. I don’t care if they’re the Dragonettis—I refuse to be a pawn in their twisted game.

Dressed now in jeans and a t-shirt, I walk to the window, needing to get my bearings. The view outside is grim—guards patrolling the property, armed to the teeth. 

The high walls and iron gates make it clear that escape won’t be easy. My fingers grip the windowsill as I scan the grounds, trying to spot weaknesses, any blind spots in their security.

It feels hopeless. But I’m not giving up. Not yet. I’ve been underestimated my whole life, and I’ll be damned if Matteo Dragonetti is the one to break me.

I spend the rest of the day pacing the room, going over every possibility in my head. There’s no way I’m waiting for someone to come save me—my family might not even care. And even if they did, the Dragonettis would see them coming from a mile away. 

No, if I’m getting out of here, I’m doing it on my own terms.

My eyes trace the property again, noting every detail. The guards, the fences, the cameras mounted on every corner. My stomach knots, but I refuse to let the hopelessness win. They might have the upper hand now, but everyone makes mistakes. I’ll wait. Watch. And when the opportunity comes, I’ll take it.

The sun sets slowly, and by nightfall, the room feels colder. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten since the disastrous wedding that wasn’t. As if on cue, the door unlocks, and Matteo steps in, carrying a tray of food.

His presence fills the room, suffocating and sharp. He sets the tray on the table, his movements measured and deliberate.

“Dinner,” he says flatly, like he’s doing me a favor.

I cross my arms, staying where I am by the window. “I’m not hungry.”

His dark eyes narrow, and he straightens, his posture rigid. “You’ll eat.”

“Make me.”

The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. His jaw tightens, and a muscle ticks in his cheek as he turns toward me, his steps slow but purposeful.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “I bring you food, and this is how you repay me?”

“Repay you?” I snap, taking a step closer, my anger overriding my fear. “For what? Kidnapping me? Ruining my life? Oh, let me bow down and thank you properly, your highness.”

His hand moves faster than I expect, grabbing my arm and pulling me forward. Before I can react, my back hits the wall, and his hand wraps around my throat—not tight enough to choke me, but firm enough to make his point.

“I’m getting sick of this mouth,” he growls, his face inches from mine. His grip tightens just slightly, enough to make my pulse hammer in my ears. “Let me make something clear, Princess. You’re not in control here. You don’t get to make demands or throw tantrums. You’re here because I allow you to be here. That’s it.”

My breath hitches, but I force myself to meet his gaze. “You don’t scare me, Matteo.”

His lips curl into a smile, but it’s anything but kind. “Not yet, maybe. But you should be scared, Amara. Because I have no limits. No lines I won’t cross to get my fucking point across. Push me, and you’ll find out just how far I’ll go.”

I swallow hard, but the fire inside me refuses to be extinguished. “If you think choking me is going to break me, you’re even dumber than I thought.”

His eyes blaze, and for a second, I think he might squeeze harder. But instead, he steps back, releasing me abruptly like I’m something filthy he doesn’t want to touch anymore.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warns, his tone colder than ice. “Don’t push me, Amara.”

He storms toward the door, his movements sharp and deliberate. As he pulls it open, he glances back at me, his eyes flashing with warning. “Eat the damn food.”

The door slams shut behind him, the lock clicking into place.

I sink to the floor, my breath coming in shallow bursts. My hand brushes my throat, the phantom weight of his grip still lingering. My fear churns in my chest, but beneath it, there’s something else.

I smile.

I got under his skin.

Matteo Dragonetti may hold the keys to my prison, but I’m already inside his head.

***

The room is dark, the faint glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. I sit curled up on the bed, knees pulled to my chest, staring at the locked door. Every creak of the old mansion makes my nerves fray further.

I don’t trust myself to close my eyes. Not after Matteo stormed out, leaving behind a crackling tension that still clings to the walls. My throat aches from where his hand had pressed, but it’s the intensity in his eyes that haunts me.

/Push me, and you’ll find out just how far I’ll go./

The warning replays in my head like a broken record. I want to believe it’s empty, that he’s just trying to scare me. But Matteo Dragonetti doesn’t seem like a man who makes idle threats.

I try to stay awake. I fight it, but my body betrays me. Slowly, my eyelids grow heavier, and I sink into the mattress, exhaustion pulling me under despite the fear clawing at my chest.

At some point, I must have drifted off because the next thing I feel is a weight on top of me.

My eyes snap open, and my breath catches in my throat. Matteo looms over me, his knees bracketing my hips, his hands pinning my wrists above my head. His dark eyes glint in the moonlight, the grin on his face sending a shiver of pure terror down my spine.