Page 14 of Marco

I close the door to my lavish prison cell and lean against it, trying to catch my breath. The opulent furnishings that surround me now only magnify how trapped I feel. Like a feral cat misidentified as a fancy pedigree and taken to a fancy mansion, destined to forever feel out of place while spoiled to death. This is not the life I know. And at the same time, I feel both trapped but also guilty for the more basic life I've left behind. I walk over and sink onto the bed, equal parts fascinated and afraid. What have I gotten myself into? I only wonder if the life I led before will ever be the same when I go back to it. Assuming I make it through this.

The Next Morning

My gaze lands on the state-of-the-art coffee maker on the marble countertop in the corner of the room. Of course he has the top-of-the-line model, something that rivals the industrial equipment in any modern coffee shop. Or did he have this especially installed with me in mind? An idea sparks. I rummage through the walk-in closet until I find a small table and chairs. Dragging them to the sitting area, I create a little coffee nook. It's a small act of familiarity amidst the disorientation. A little space to call mine. Let's not even talk about how this room, with its sitting area and walk-in closet, is bigger than my apartment.

As I grind the fragrant beans and watch the dark liquid trickle into the carafe, I feel my nerves settle. The rich aroma transports me back to my cozy café, where I'd chat with regulars while steaming milk for lattes. A world away from this. There, I was able to immerse myself in their hopes, their challenges. Here, I am alone. In a fake relationship with a man I don't even know. A scary man, at that.

I carry my mug to the window and look out at the waking city below. Somewhere down there, my café is opening for the day without me. I wonder if anyone has noticed my absence yet. Do they know where I am or who I'm with? I'm sure my grandmother will adjust the roster and keep things on track, and make up some excuse about why I'm not there. That is, until the truth is revealed. That I'm the next Mrs. Marco De Luca.

I take a sip, letting the taste ground me. No matter how chaotic my life becomes, these quiet moments with coffee remain my sanctuary. The one constant I can count on.

A knock at the door startles me from my thoughts. I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders, fortifying myself for another day in Marco's world. But inside, a part of me clings to my identity. I am still Alessia Moretti. And I will not be consumed.

I open the door to find Marco's housekeeper, Rosa. She eyes my makeshift coffee corner with pursed lips.

"Mr. De Luca expects you downstairs for breakfast in ten minutes," she says briskly. "He has meetings all morning and wants you ready to accompany him."

I bristle at her tone and the expectation that I'm to just fall in line. "I'll be down when I'm ready. I don't appreciate being summoned like a pet."

Rosa looks shocked. "Miss, the rules of this house are clear. Meals are at set times, and Mr. De Luca expects punctuality."

"Well, he can expect all he wants, but I don't just jump when called," I retort. "I have my own schedule."

Rosa presses her lips together, conflicted. She hurries off, no doubt to report my defiance. I feel a small thrill at challenging the strict order of things, but also an unease at what consequences may follow.

I take my sweet time getting ready, keeping him waiting for at least an additional fifteen minutes. I take a little longer on my makeup and hair, and dawdle while selecting between three perfectly appropriate outfits. As tiny as this flex may be, it feels good to set some type of boundary when things currently feel very one-sided.

At breakfast, the tension between Marco and I is palpable. He watches me with an inscrutable expression as I sip my coffee, refusing to be rushed. Although I can't help but notice the flicker of appreciation as his gaze trails over me. I feel a little warmth in my core under his stare.

"We'll be leaving in five minutes," he states. "I trust you'll be ready."

I meet his gaze. "I'll join you when I'm finished."

His eyes flash, but he simply nods and returns to his newspaper. Another power play.

When we finally leave, Marco opens the car door for me. I pause, surprised by this unexpected courtesy from him. "Thank you," I murmur. As he leans over me to grab the door, I can't help but notice the masculine notes of his aftershave, probably custom-made, and the glow of his freshly shaved, moisturized face with its chiseled jaw. He really is a very handsome man.

He gives me a measured look. "You're welcome."

A subtle shift. We both bend, if only a little.

Later that evening, I'm reading in my room when there's a knock at the door.

"Come in," I call out.

Marco enters, wearing another impeccable suit and looking hot as hell. I can't even begin to imagine the size of his closet, or the roster of seamstresses he must have at his beck and call. My stomach clenches as I realize he's probably fucking them all. "I have some business to attend to. I'll be back late."

I nod, trying not to show my curiosity. Marco rarely explains his comings and goings.

He checks his watch. "I should be going. Rosa's downstairs if you need anything." He pauses. "Help yourself to the kitchen. And the gym, if you'd like. I had some of your favorite songs from the café's playlist loaded into the sound system for you."

I'm surprised by this unprompted hospitality, and a little flustered—both by his attention to detail, and his ability to effortlessly collect personal information on me. Sweet and maybe a little creepy, but I'll take it. "Oh. Thank you."

"You're free to use the amenities here. This is your home too, for now," he says simply.

Again, that subtle shift between us. I'm still wary, but I sense Marco may not be the monster I first thought. At least when he's at home.

After he leaves, I wander the silent halls alone. Despite the luxury, an unease prickles my skin. Marco's world, whatever business he's engaged in, feels dangerous. But it does feel safe being surrounded by his team of security guards and state-of-the-art security equipment. More safe from threats from the outside, at least.

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