Lines in the sand

Chapter 2: Lines in the Sand

The days that followed the dinner were a game of quiet defiance. Matteo De Luca might have thought he'd secured my obedience with his threats and my father's signature, but I had no intention of making this easy for him.

Every interaction with him was a battle, every word a calculated move. Matteo seemed to live for the challenge, always meeting my sharp retorts with a maddening smirk or a cryptic response that only fueled my frustration. He wasn't the kind of man to be rattled, but that didn't mean I wasn't determined to try.

The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the De Luca estate, casting long shadows over the marble floors. I sat in the drawing room, pretending to read a book while Matteo stood at the far end of the room, discussing business with one of his men.

I wasn't interested in their conversation—not really—but the way Matteo carried himself was impossible to ignore. He had this effortless authority, this air of command that made people listen when he spoke. It irritated me to no end that he could do so much with so little effort.

"Alessia," his voice broke through my thoughts.

I blinked, realizing that his conversation had ended, and now his dark eyes were locked on me.

"Yes?" I said, my tone deliberately disinterested.

"Join me," he said, gesturing to the terrace. It wasn't a request.

For a moment, I considered refusing, but something in his expression warned me against it. Reluctantly, I set the book aside and followed him outside.

The terrace overlooked the sprawling gardens of the De Luca estate, the perfectly manicured hedges and vibrant roses a stark contrast to the man who owned them. Matteo leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

"You've been quiet lately," he said without looking at me.

"Don't mistake silence for submission," I replied, folding my arms.

A hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. "I wouldn't dream of it."

I bristled at his tone, stepping closer. "If you're expecting me to fall in line and play the obedient wife, you're going to be disappointed."

His eyes flicked to mine, dark and unreadable. "And if you're expecting me to let you run wild without consequence, you'll be just as disappointed."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a fact," he said smoothly, pushing off the railing and closing the distance between us. "You're in my world now, Alessia. There are rules. Lines you don't cross."

I tilted my chin up, refusing to be intimidated. "And what happens when I cross them?"

His gaze dropped to my lips for the briefest moment, and my stomach twisted with an emotion I didn't want to name. "Then we'll see just how far you're willing to go," he said, his voice low.

The tension between us was suffocating, the air charged with something I couldn't define. I hated how my pulse quickened when he was this close, how his presence seemed to drown out everything else.

Before I could say anything, he stepped back, his expression unreadable. "Enjoy the rest of your morning," he said, his tone suddenly distant.

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone with the quiet rage bubbling in my chest.

That evening, I found Matteo in the study, reviewing documents at his desk. I hadn't planned to confront him, but the tension of the day had left me simmering, and I wasn't about to let him have the last word.

"You don't get to control me," I said, stepping into the room without knocking.

Matteo looked up, his brows lifting slightly. "Good evening to you too, Alessia."

I ignored his sarcasm, crossing my arms. "You think you can keep me in this house like some prisoner, but I'm not going to sit quietly and let you dictate my life."

He set his pen down, leaning back in his chair as he regarded me. "And what exactly do you plan to do about it?"

"I'll leave," I said, though the words felt hollow. "I'll find a way."

His expression darkened, and in a flash, he was on his feet, closing the space between us. "You think you can defy me forever?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

I stepped back instinctively, but he grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer. His grip wasn't painful, but it was firm, unyielding.

"Let go of me," I said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound strong.

"Not until you understand something," he said, his eyes locking onto mine. "This isn't a game, Alessia. This isn't about power or control. It's about survival—for both of us."

His words threw me off balance. There was something in his tone, something raw and unguarded, that didn't match the man I'd come to know.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice quieter now.

For a moment, I thought he might actually answer. His grip softened, and his gaze flickered with something almost vulnerable. But then, just as quickly, the walls came back up.

"It doesn't matter," he said, releasing my wrist and stepping back. "Just remember what I said."

And then he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there with more questions than answers.

That night, as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, his words echoed in my mind. This wasn't about power; it was about survival.

For the first time, I wondered what secrets Matteo De Luca was hiding—and whether I was strong enough to uncover them.