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?

Riley Collins POV:

Any hint of a smile vanished when I walked through the door and spotted Luca inside. He stood with his back to me, slipping off his shoes as if he belonged here—like this place was his private sanctuary instead of my gilded cage.

"Did you lose your way, or are you planning to redecorate my prison?" I stopped just inside the threshold, voice steady.

He didn't even bother to turn, loosening his tie with a slow indifference that set my nerves on edge.

Eventually, he glanced over, calm as ever. "I figured it was obvious. We're married, remember? Married couples share a room. If I ever grow bored, I can always spend the night elsewhere. But tonight, I'll be staying here."

A hollow laugh slipped out. "You call this marriage? That contract was signed with threats and loaded guns, Luca. You put one to my head and locked me up, don't pretend you've forgotten."

He shrugged, a careless motion. "Still counts. My signature's on the paperwork. And this bed's not exactly cramped."

Crossing my arms, I stepped further into the room.

"Then I'll take the floor," I responded, reaching for a blanket.

A quiet, derisive chuckle escaped him. He closed the distance at a lazy pace, the air around him thick with warning. I stayed rooted, but my pulse hammered when he gently pulled the blanket away.

He moved in until there was nowhere left for me to retreat, the wall pressing cold against my back. One hand braced near my head, the other hidden away in his pocket, and I found myself distracted by the warmth of his cologne.

Why did he always have to smell so damn good?

"Are you going to swing at me if I move any closer?" he said in a low voice, leaning in until his breath warmed my cheek. He took his time staring at my mouth and the clean lines of my jaw. He didn't look young. He carried the kind of age that settled around forty. "Or are you going to start begging when I'm inside you again?"

My throat tightened. I despised how easily he could take control with a single look. His body hovered near mine. T he smell of expensive cigarettes, leather, and some cologne he probably knew could get under my skin wrapped around me.

"I liked the way you looked down there. Even with that terrible hood and that awful outfit. Your pussy holds tight around me. Maybe I'll taste your lips next." His whisper brushed my ear as my hand searched for something steady and found the wall.

Nothing stung worse than knowing I actually wanted him. Some reckless urge in me wanted his lips against mine. That would put an end to this twisted back-and-forth. That would let me feel anything besides this fear that had clung to me all day, after everything we'd survived.

He just laughed. The sound cut through the tension. He drew back a step and looked at me with the kind of scorn that made my skin crawl.

"Calm down, princess. Tonight isn't the night."

My fists tightened at my sides. I forced myself to inhale and steady my nerves.

"If you're desperate for my attention, you're going to have to step up your game. My lovers have some sense of style. Right now, you look like you escaped from a church retreat."

The heat of embarrassment and anger flushed through me.

"Oh, I thought you had a thing for meek little brides. Maybe that's why you have to drag the bride to the altar and rob your own brother at the wedding."

He went rigid. The look in his eyes shifted, something raw and dangerous surfacing.

"What's the matter? Did I hit a nerve?" I asked, the sarcasm heavy in my voice. "Don't worry, 'boss.' You're not the only one who's not in the mood tonight."

I half-expected him to shove me away or storm off. But instead, he stepped closer. In one quick motion, he seized my wrist and yanked me forward. Before I could even catch my breath, he tore my coat off with a rough tug.

"Luca!" I shouted, struggling to break free, but he was already fumbling with the zipper of my pants, his anger boiling over.

"You really know how to wind me up, and now you want to back out? Sorry, but I'm not letting you walk away."

"Stop it!" I screamed, my voice breaking through the room. Fear hammered in my chest, sharp and relentless. "I'm telling you, I don't want this. Just stop!"

For a brief moment, he went still. His jaw tightened. His eyes bored into me, cold and unflinching.

"I said no," I repeated, standing my ground. "You don't get to decide when you touch me."

Neither of us moved. The air crackled, heavy with all the things neither world should have ever shared.

Holding back his anger, Luca let out a slow breath. He snatched my coat from the chair and tossed it in my direction.

"Put this on."

"Are you walking out?" I asked, my hands shaking as I caught the coat.

"I'm staying. We'll deal with this tomorrow," he said, his back turned. "Trust me, darling, when I'm interested, I make it worth your while. All it takes is the right outfit, the right attitude... You'll be begging for it again. A stack of cash makes anyone eager."

"You're an idiot. I'm not some thing you can buy."

"You only offered yourself because you thought he was the one, didn't you?" he said as his fingers tightened around my cheeks, forcing me to meet his stare. "Go on. Let your mind wander to that fool again, and you'll learn exactly who you're dealing with. If I ever catch you dreaming about Jackson, Riley, I'll end you."

"Relax. I can't stand either of you. Whether it's you or him, it makes no difference. The feeling is the same. I lost a year of my life because of him, locked away. And I got dragged into a marriage with a gun pointed at my head. You have no idea how much that broke me."

He went quiet after that. His eyes drifted over me once, slow and unreadable, before he dismissed me altogether.

"Get some rest, Riley. Your little speech tired me out." He removed his clothes until he was standing in nothing but his underwear. Then he fell into bed without a care.

"You've got a good body," he added. His toned stomach flexed as he shifted, and I hated myself for noticing.

I stayed rooted to the spot. My breath came too fast. My coat hung uselessly in my arms, and my pants were still ripped open around my ankles.

I should have been terrified.

Yet what rose inside me wasn't fear. Hatred spread through me like fire.

Some twisted urge in me wanted to stare at Luca while he lounged in his underwear, hoping for the kind of comfort he'd never offer. I wished he would reach out, wrap his arms around me, press his lips to mine, and promise me that things would turn out fine. That fantasy faded as quickly as it appeared. He wasn't the type to offer kindness, and there was nobody else waiting to pick up the pieces.

That's fine. I'll figure it all out on my own.