Riley Collins's POV:

The moment the car lurched forward, my back slammed into the seat, knocking the air from my lungs. My chest throbbed with every breath. Luca's gun still seemed to weigh on my skin, and the scent of gunpowder clung to the memory of his cologne. Worst of all was the image of his brother's blood, dripping through my thoughts like a slow, relentless tap.

"Let me out of this car! Where are you taking me?"

Luca kept his eyes on the road. He didn't look at me as he sped through traffic like he didn't care if we made it. He only slowed down once we hit a quieter street.

"I haven't even seen my sister. Bring me to her. Please," I pleaded.

Tears still clung to my cheeks. I refused to wipe them away with him watching, so I pressed my gaze against the window, wondering how my life had twisted into this nightmare.

Just when I thought the silence might last, he finally unleashed the anger I knew he'd been holding back.

"Start talking. Why did you come looking for me last night?" asked Luca, his voice tight with suspicion.

I kept my lips sealed. I had no idea what he knew or how much danger I was already in. I wasn't about to beg again.

"Did you know Jackson was planning something against me?" he asked, cutting me a sharp look in the rearview mirror.

I jerked my head toward him, my voice rising. "No! I thought that was his apartment! And I just assumed it was him."

"His apartment? Do you really think you can feed me that lie? That place has always belonged to me," he replied loudly.

"To you? He told me it was his. I didn't even know there were two of you. I thought I'd been dealing with him the entire time. I made an agreement with Jackson, and he never followed through. I only went there to collect what he owed, and look how that turned out."

A laugh slipped out of Luca. It was short, cruel, and meant to cut.

"Right. A brilliant deal with a mobster. In his apartment," he scoffed. "Tell me, are you actually that clueless or are you playing a deeper game?"

"Does it ever cross your mind to stop being a jerk? I'm not sure if you know what kind of arrangement I made," I replied, glaring at him through the mirror.

"Damn your arrangement! I don't give a damn! You're married to me now. Forget him. Did you hear me?"

We turned onto a stretch of road bordered by tall pine trees. An iron gate swung open on its own, revealing a mansion guarded by cameras, heavy walls, and men armed to the teeth. My stomach twisted. It looked more like a high-end prison than a home.

Luca slammed the car to a stop and cut the engine. The hush that followed felt heavier than the gunfire at the wedding.

Without warning, he swung toward me, closing the small space between us. I shrank back until my body pressed hard against the door. His arm braced against the window, trapping me in place.

"Tell me something, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice dropping to a slow, venomous whisper. "Why would you sleep with me, if you were engaged to my brother?"

My eyes flew open as a hollow drop rolled through my stomach.

"I was never engaged to anyone!" I said, my voice trembling. "I only... I only went to him because my sister crashed her car and ended up in a coma. He told me he'd keep her machines running for a month if I delivered a suitcase to that same address where I found you yesterday. But the suitcase... it was packed with illegal gems. I didn't even make it inside the apartment before the police took me in."

"When did this happen?"

"A year ago. He told me if I took the blame, he'd make sure my sister stayed alive. Then he offered a million to pay for the surgery that could wake her up."

"So you traded yourself for a million?" he cut in, his tone dripping with contempt. "Charming. What a touching little love tale." A bitter laugh followed. "You think you're worth a fortune, don't you? Tell me something. Did Jackson ever pay for the treatment? Or did both of us make a fool out of you?"

"I was arrested because of him..."

"Oh, poor you. What a bitch."

The insult slapped me harder than any hand. Heat rose beneath my skin, and before I could stop myself, my palm cracked across his cheek.

"I never sold myself! I did what I had to do! There was no scheme, no wedding, nothing!" I yelled.

"You got a death wish? What makes you think you can strike me?" Fury twisted his features, and his whole body started to shake. For a moment, I braced myself, certain he might lose control completely. Instead, his hand slid up and traced my lips with a slow, deliberate touch. "You're going to regret that." Without warning, his mouth crashed down on mine.

I shoved at his chest, desperate to break free, but he held me so tight I couldn't turn away. His kiss tasted like wine—bold and lingering—and my resistance slipped before he finally let me go

It startled me, how long it had been since anyone touched me like that.

"You should be grateful for that tempting mouth of yours. Next time, you might not get off so easy. Think about that before you act." His grip loosened, and I touched trembling fingers to my lips.

"I... I haven't ever been with anyone else. Last night was my first—" I forced in a shaky breath, fighting the urge to cry. "I never slept with Jackson."

He threw back his head and let out a bitter, mocking laugh.

"Oh, is that so? You certainly didn't act innocent with me last night."

Shame pressed me into the seat, and I twisted away, clutching the cushion while my breath came in short, shallow bursts.

I wanted to defend myself, to explain, but he wasn't listening. He never cared that I had never been with anyone before.

Suddenly, last night's memories crashed into me.

I'd spent a year locked away, waiting for Mr. Black to hold up his end of the deal. He vanished without a word. Out of sheer desperation, I found myself back at the apartment where all of this had started.

I never figured out who actually opened that door—I just assumed it was him. The same piercing eyes, that powerful build, and brown hair peppered with streaks of gray around the ears.

He didn't look the least bit startled. Instead, his gaze raked over me, cold and calculating.

"Well, isn't this interesting," he said, his tone cold. "Did my brother really think I'd fall for a pretty distraction?"

Clinging to the doorframe, I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs.

"I don't know anything about your brother. I'm here for you. You owe me, and I want what's mine," I responded, steadying my voice as best I could.

A flicker of suspicion sharpened his expression. The tension in my shoulders, the way I kept my hood up, every silent second—I could tell he saw right through me.

"Oh, that's how it is? Tell me, how much did he promise for a night with me?"

"That's not—" I started, but he didn't care about explanations. His hands gripped my waist, rough and unyielding, pulling me closer.

I fought back at first, but the thought of Emma's life fading away forced me to stop. If this was the price, then I would pay it.

I told myself that if giving up my body sealed the deal, then so be it. Walking away meant turning my back on her—and I couldn't do that.

"Get rid of that hood. I want to see exactly who I'm dealing with," he insisted, his grip tightening as if daring me to resist.

Standing in front of him, I felt stripped bare. Even with my clothes still on, his eyes left me feeling like there was nowhere left to hide. I wished I could simply vanish.

He spun me around and jerked the hood from my head, his knuckles pressing hard against my skin as though he wanted to squeeze the air right out of me, dragging me closer until escape was impossible.

"You don't smell like someone who's desperate for work."

"I'm not here for that. All I need is my money."

"Is that so? I wonder..."

Each time he brushed against me, every time he leaned in far too close, I swallowed my fear and focused on what truly mattered. I thought of that promise. I pictured the surgery, the endless hours at the hospital, the machines that kept Emma breathing.

He pressed his hand against my back, forcing me to stand still.

"Open wider, little slut..." His fingers pushed into me. It hurt more than I expected, but I stayed quiet.

When he was done, he pulled away without meeting my eyes and dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the floor like that was all I was worth.

"But you promised a million. That was the deal," I whispered, my voice thin and shaking.

A sharp, cold laugh burst from him, the sound cutting through the room like a blade.

"You can tell my brother I'm done letting him treat me like a fool. And next time, he better send someone who can keep their hunger hidden."

"Brother? What are you talking about?"

Without warning, he pulled out a gun and aimed it straight at my forehead.

"I'm tired of pretending. I'm sick of liars. Get out."

The moment he tossed the folded note at me, I scrambled to grab my things and slipped back into my clothes.

"This can't be all there is. Please. We made an agreement. I did everything I was supposed to. You owe me what you promised."

He curled his lip, the disgust plain in his voice. "A million? Who do you think you are? Get out of my sight before I decide you're not worth the oxygen you're wasting."

Before I could blink, the door slammed against my face, the echo ringing in my ears.

Until that moment, I never knew Jackson even had a brother. I never imagined that brother would be Luca.

And now I couldn't stop wondering why he revealed all of that to me. What kind of war were they fighting that made them willing to tear each other apart?

Riley Collins's POV:

Snapping back to the present, I caught Luca staring at me. There was surprise flickering across his face, but it quickly gave way to something much colder.

"No blood, not a scratch. And for someone who swears she's never touched another man, you sure know how to act the part of a whore." His gaze drifted from my lips to my lap, lingering a little too long on the neckline of my dress. "You should watch yourself, darling. Liars don't last long in this world—and I take real pleasure in making sure of it."

Without waiting for a reply, Luca yanked the door open and stormed out, slamming it behind him. Footsteps sounded outside as someone approached.

"Take Mrs. Black to my suite," he instructed one of his men.

"Whoa, boss. You're married now? But..."

"Yeah, I went through with it." Luca's voice was low and bitter. "That son of a bitch Jackson played me— handed over a fake will. The real one's getting read tomorrow, and I had to be married to keep control of Amercana. I wired his office last night. It was this or hand everything over to a snake."

He gripped his gun so tightly his knuckles paled, eyes blazing with anger.

I sat in the car a moment longer, steadying my breath. I knew the Blacks were trouble, all of them. But my sister was out there somewhere. For her sake, I had to keep going.

When I finally got out, I blinked back tears and swallowed my rage. I followed directions, ignoring the curious stares of the staff, and tried to carry myself with dignity.

It was later, as I sat in the unfamiliar bedroom, that Luca reappeared at the door.

"I've got things to handle. You're staying right here."

"What do you expect from me?" I blurted out, surprised at my own boldness. He stared back, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, as if he was wondering if I was really willing to play this part.

"For starters, you'll act like a proper wife. That means no wandering off. If I want you around, you'll show up when I say so." My gaze landed on a heavy vase on the dresser, and for a split second, I pictured smashing it over his head— but I kept my composure.

"You'll keep the house in order, come with me to every business or... less official meeting, and, above all, steer clear of Jackson. Is that understood?"

Drawing in a steady breath, I reminded myself he only responded to power moves and negotiation. I exhaled slowly and stepped closer, keeping my voice steady.

"I can play whatever role you want. All I ask is that you let me see my sister. Please, keep her safe. That's all I need from you, Mr. Black."

He gripped my chin, lifting it so I had to meet his gaze. "Do I really look that old to you? Or did you call Jackson 'Mr. Black' too?"

I pulled away from his touch, swallowing the urge to lash out. Every muscle in my body screamed to fight, but I forced myself to stay calm.

"Then tell me—what should I call you?"

He circled around me, moving slowly enough that I could feel the heat of his stare pressing into my skin.

His voice was low, barely more than a growl. "That depends..."

Out of nowhere, his hand landed sharply on me, making me jump and suck in a breath.

"In public, I answer to Luca. I don't care for formalities. But in this house, you call me 'boss.' Understood?"

"Fine. Boss."

The moment Luca disappeared through the doorway and I heard the door click shut, all the rage I'd bottled up came spilling out.

"Arrogant... filthy bastard..." I muttered through clenched teeth, pacing the length of the cold, oversized room. Every inch of the place screamed of Luca—dark, imposing, expensive.

"Call me boss." I mimicked under my breath, jaw locked tight. "Who does he think he is?"

Fury churned inside me. I'd never met anyone like him. Jackson was rotten, but at least he wore his cruelty out in the open. Luca played the gentleman, but the venom was always just beneath the surface. It made him infinitely more dangerous.

I squeezed my face in my hands, forcing myself not to shout. This wasn't the moment to unravel. Emma was counting on me.

Just then, three solid knocks echoed through the room.

"Ma'am?" a deep voice called from the hallway. "The boss left instructions for your duties."

I couldn't help rolling my eyes as I crossed the room to open the door. The man outside wore a crisp black suit and handed over a thick stack of papers, along with a small bottle of pills clipped to the top.

"Just leave it on the table," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady and not let my disgust show.

He offered a flat, "Good luck," and walked off without waiting for a reply.

I closed the door quietly behind him, then made my way to the dark leather armchair, lowering myself with slow caution, half expecting the whole world to collapse beneath me. I sorted through the bundle, my curiosity giving way to disbelief as I read each rule.

Rules and duties for Mrs. Black:

1. Wake up by 6AM. The bed must be made by 6:15. I can't stand walking past a messy room.

2. Only wear what's provided in the closet on the right. You'll get a notice when it's ready.

3. Take the pill attached. I don't want any children. Ever.

4. No animals in the house.

5. Don't touch or ask about the weapons.

6. Be prepared for meetings every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

7. No questions about my work—especially nothing about Jackson.

8. Obey my mother. No arguments. No excuses.

9. Never enter my main room unless I call for you.

10. Don't smile. I hate smiles. Don't smile at me or any man who works for me.

My hands shook as I stared at the last rule. Fury rushed up my throat. With a snarl, I flung the papers across the room, the bottle rolling until it hit the edge of the carpet.

"Don't smile? Is this supposed to be a marriage or some kind of prison?"

I picked up the little bottle and turned it over in my hand, my gaze lingering on it for a long moment. Every detail of this arrangement screamed control—what I wore, when I woke, even if and when I could have a child. He wanted power over every inch of my life, right down to my smile.

But I wasn't some trophy for his shelf. I wasn't going to let him turn me into a puppet.

Moving to the mirror, I traced the cool surface with my fingertips, studying my reflection in the white dress. The symbolism was almost cruel— a picture of innocence in a world where there was none.

"Fine, Luca Black," I whispered, voice steady with resolve. "You'll get your dutiful wife. You'll get your perfect actress. For everyone else's sake. But trust me—someday, you'll pay for all of this."

I straightened up, forced myself to take a deep breath, and pressed down the ache in my chest. Without flinching, I twisted the cap off the bottle and swallowed the pill— not because he ordered it, but because there was no way I'd ever bring a child into this nightmare. Emma still came first.

With new determination, I strode out of the room. The halls felt even more cavernous and cold, every polished surface a reminder of how completely I was trapped.

But I needed a phone. I had to find out about Emma. She was all that mattered now.

Rounding a corner, I nearly collided with an older woman, impeccably dressed and silver-haired.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," I exclaimed, still catching my breath. "I hope I didn't hurt you."

She knitted her brows for a moment, but the smile she offered was gentle.

"It's quite all right, dear. You look a bit shaken, though. Are you sure you're all right?"

I took a shaky breath, debating whether or not I should trust her.

"I... I need to use a phone. It's urgent—I have to call the hospital about my sister."

She studied me for a moment, her eyes searching mine. At last, she nodded.

"There's a telephone at the end of this hallway, right by the stairs. And there's a private line in your room, too. I'm sure Mr. Black wouldn't mind you using it."

The mention of Luca's last name sent a chill through me.

"Actually... I'm not so sure about that. He isn't fond of surprises—and he definitely doesn't like anyone breaking his rules."

Her lips curled in a knowing smile, as if she understood exactly what I meant.

"Thank you," I managed to reply, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I'll be quick, I promise."

She guided me down the corridor and pointed to an old rotary phone perched on a dark wooden table.

My hands were trembling as I dialed, each number making my chest feel tighter.

The line rang.

"St. James Hospital, good afternoon."

I swallowed against the dryness in my throat.

"Hi. I need information about Emma Collins, please. I'm her sister, Riley."

There was a click on the line, and then—silence.

"Please hold a moment."

The silence on the line stretched, every heartbeat making it harder to breathe. My palms grew clammy, and I pressed the receiver tighter.

"Miss Emma's condition took a turn for the worse this morning. Things have escalated quickly... She'll need surgery very soon, or..."

My knees threatened to give way. I gripped the edge of the dresser for support.

"Or what?" My voice was so faint I almost didn't recognize it.

"If she doesn't have the operation, she may not survive."

Everything around me faded into white noise. I stared at nothing, unable to process the words. My hands were shaking so hard the phone nearly slipped. Tears threatened to spill over.

Trapped in this gilded prison, surrounded by people I couldn't trust, my only family was slipping away.

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the wave of panic.

What should I do? Should I beg Luca for help—or risk everything by trying to find Jackson?

Riley Collins's POV:

The rest of the day slipped by with me lying on the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, searching for answers that never came. My mind chased itself in frantic loops—Emma's fate, Luca's power, and my own helplessness in this twisted house.

Simply asking for what I wanted wouldn't get me anywhere. Screaming would be useless, maybe even dangerous. Luca only paid attention when challenged, when something or someone broke through his armor.

If I needed anything from him, I'd have to beat him at his own game.

The thought of seducing Luca Black made my heart hammer in my chest. Trying to charm a man like him felt about as safe as putting my hand in a lion's mouth. Still, it was the only card I had left to play. If I could hold his interest, maybe I could finally fight for what truly mattered: getting to Emma.

As the sky faded to gray, someone knocked softly on my door. A woman entered, pushing a clothing rack lined with care, as though she carried priceless treasures.

"The boss asked me to deliver these for you, ma'am. Each outfit is labeled for a specific day." She spoke quietly, eyes averted, her tone as distant as the rest of the house.

So this was it—Luca's idea of control. Handpicking every dress, deciding how I would look, as if I were some living doll.

I stepped closer, running my hand along the designer fabrics, the pristine tailoring. Every dress was beautiful, elegant, impossibly expensive—and each one screamed restriction. No plunging necklines. No daring slits. Nothing but decorum and distance.

"Perfect. He wants a showpiece, not a partner," I muttered to myself, a cold smile tugging at my lips.

As I slid open the dresser drawer, my fingers paused. Nestled among the carefully folded fabrics was a scrap of black lace—tiny, barely there, unmistakably lingerie.

"What is this supposed to be?" I muttered, holding it up gingerly between two fingers.

I turned the fabric over, baffled by its shape, trying to figure out which end was which. That's when I heard the door creak behind me.

"Already planning your seduction, are you?" His voice, smooth and edged with sarcasm, sliced through the room.

I went rigid. Every muscle in my body clenched, the lace still dangling from my hand.

"I expected you to be cleverer than this. Pulling stunts like that won't work on me. I despise women who use tricks like that."

My mind scrambled for a response. I tossed the lingerie onto the bed with an exaggerated sigh and turned to face him, forcing nonchalance into my voice.

"Is that so, boss?" I retorted. "Because if your rules are anything to go by, there's nothing in this world you actually like. As for this— clearly not mine. Someone must've left it behind. I find it cheap, anyway."

He advanced, every step measured and quietly menacing. His stare was frigid, his jaw set like stone.

"That belonged to someone from my past," he replied flatly.

"Send her my best, then," I responded dryly, turning away and tossing the lace into the drawer as if I were throwing out a scrap of trash. "Anyone who'd wear something like that deserves a medal."

"What exactly are you after, Riley?"

I spun around slowly to face him.

"All I want is to see my sister. That's it. At least for now."

He watched me for a long moment, the air between us thick enough to cut. My own breath sounded too quick, betraying my nerves.

"I know I have nothing left that you haven't already claimed with this ridiculous marriage," I continued, forcing my pride down. "But if there's any decency left in you at all, let me visit her. Just one time. That's all I'm asking."

He stepped back, his expression unreadable.

"I don't have time for your pleas. My days are packed with meetings, contracts, sometimes dodging bullets or putting others in the ground," he said with a careless shrug. "But then again, maybe if you beg, I'll think about it."

Rage threatened to spill over, but the thought of Emma—hooked up to those machines—kept me in check.

"I'll do whatever you want."

His eyes gleamed with something like triumph, hungry to see just how much I would endure.

"Anything, huh? Perfect. I want you to sort, clean, and catalog the entire house archive. Five rooms filled with decades' worth of files and junk. Nobody's touched it since my father was alive. I expect it done by tomorrow night."

The air left my lungs. I took a step back, disbelief written all over my face.

"That's not even possible!"

"I thought you said 'anything.' Well, here's your chance." He gave a cold half-smile, already turning away. "Impress me."

I drew in a long, shaky breath, forcing myself to steady my nerves.

"Fine. But you'd better keep your promise."

He stopped and returned, closing the distance between us. His hand found my chin, tilting my face up, and I burned with resentment at his touch.

"Let's get this clear, sweetheart. In this house, I call the shots. I decide whether you get up or stay down, whether you open your legs or keep them closed. But you're lucky—I don't break my word. Finish what I asked, and you'll get your favor. Just one. Don't forget it."

He leaned in, aiming for a kiss, but I turned away before his lips could find mine. That flicker of rejection was all it took to sour his mood.

Without a word, he spun on his heel and strode out, leaving a chill in his wake. I had no idea what it would cost me, but I knew there'd be a price.

---

Hours later, I was buried in dust and paperwork in the heart of the library, sleeves rolled up and hair pulled back. Chalk and marker stained my hands as I sorted crumbling files, made notes on an old chalkboard, and stacked documents by color, date, and urgency.

The job unearthed a mess—contracts that didn't add up, records that repeated, even a signature that didn't look like his father's at all.

I forced myself to focus, trying not to think about Luca. If I finished before morning, maybe I'd have a chance to see Emma sooner.

Just then, steady footsteps echoed behind me. I turned, and there was Luca, framed in the doorway.

"I've cracked a filing system even your guards didn't know about," I said, not bothering to hide the pride in my voice. "There are odd papers in here. For instance, I just uncovered a contract with your father's name forged on it."

He stayed silent for a moment.

"You've read through all of it?"

"Not yet. But I've figured out exactly where people hide things they don't want found. Bring me a laptop— I'll scan and digitize everything. As for your assignment... consider it finished."

He ran a hand along his jaw, studying me with a mix of suspicion and something almost like reluctant admiration.

"Go. You can see your sister. Seven in the morning. There'll be a car waiting. I've got no patience for more of this."

I dropped what I was doing and faced him fully.

"Thank you..."

"Don't thank me. I still don't trust you."

"You don't have to. Just make sure Emma stays alive."

His eyes lingered on me for a second longer, then he turned away and strode out of the library.

I stood there, drenched in sweat and dust, muscles aching. But for the first time since being trapped in this house, a smile broke through— small, secret, meant only for myself. I'd actually won something, however small.

The victory vanished when I returned to my room.

Luca was already there, his back to me as he loosened his tie and stepped out of his shoes with infuriating ease, as if this was just another ordinary night.

Dread pooled in my stomach. What is he planning now?