A Place in His World

Emilia sat in the back of the armored car, staring at the ring now resting on her finger.

She hadn't meant to put it on. It just… happened.

Alessandro hadn't said another word after she accepted his offer. No smug smile, no victory monologue. Just a curt nod, a whispered command to his men, and now here she was — being escorted to a "safe house" that felt more like a cage than sanctuary.

The car pulled into an underground garage beneath a penthouse tower — private elevator, biometric scans, silent guards who didn't speak unless ordered.

She stepped out, heels clicking on sleek marble.

When the elevator opened, it revealed a space too beautiful to feel real. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed everything in gold. Dark leather, obsidian counters, flickers of firelight from a wall-mounted hearth. Dangerous elegance.

"Welcome home," Alessandro's voice echoed behind her.

She turned, startled. "You live here?"

"I own the building," he said flatly. "But this floor is yours."

She blinked. "You're keeping me here?"

He stepped closer, slow, unreadable. "I'm protecting you here."

"There's a difference?"

"Yes," he said, voice lowering. "One is a prison. The other is a throne."

She crossed her arms. "And what am I? A queen you've crowned? Or a hostage you can't afford to lose?"

His jaw ticked. "You're the daughter of my greatest enemy. And yet... I can't seem to stop wanting you close."

The confession hung between them, thick and hot.

She should've slapped him. Walked away. But she didn't.

Instead, she whispered, "What happens when the rest of the world finds out where I am?"

"They'll come," he said. "But I'll be ready."

"And if I try to leave?"

He paused. Then took another step forward.

"Then I'll come after you."

Not a threat.

A promise.

And somehow, that terrified her more than anything.