The leather of my chair creaked as I leaned back and let out a long sigh.

 The silence of my study feeling like a terrible weight against my chest.

 My knuckles were still stained with the faint, metallic scent of blood despite the proper soap scrubbing I'd given them.

 They also hurt a bit but that's what the whiskey and the pain killers were for.

 Getting rid of the pain that stayed with me after I inflicted it on others.

 This time it was rival I had inflicted pain on.

 He was some arrogant prick from the Moretti line but now he was gone.

 I had personally watched the life flicker out of his eyes, a hollow victory that left nothing but a bitter aftertaste.

 It was always the same.

The adrenaline of the kill would spike, and then the drop would follow, leaving me in this gray, depressing head space where my heart felt like an empty cavern.

I was thirty-eight years old, the head of my very own empire, and I felt like a ghost haunting my own life.

 There was no release for this, no way for me to ease the pressure building behind my ribs.

Just the cold, empty reality that is my life.

 I pressed my fingers to my temples, the flickering fire in the hearth doing little to warm the chill in my bones.

Then, a thought flickered through my head.

A pale face with big, terrified eyes the color of a stormy sea.

'The princess.'

How did I forget about her? I reached for the intercom on my desk.

 A guard on the other side connected and answered.

"Yes, boss?"

 "Bring her to me," I commanded, my tired voice sounding foreign even to my own ears.

 Minutes later, the heavy doors groaned open.

Amaya stepped inside, flanked by two of my men.

She looked small. Even more so In the vastness of the room.

She was wearing a simple, dark dress that clung to her curves, her pale skin practically glowing against the fabric.

 It's hard to explain what I felt seeing her.

It was a sharp, sudden jolt in my gut that I hadn't felt in years.

It wasn't just desire; it was an unexpected pull, a magnetic shift that centered my entire focus on the woman trembling ten feet away from me.

My pulse, usually a steady, icy rhythm, hammered once against my throat.

What was this?

Why was I feeling this way?

Should I be feeling this way?

I kept my expression cold and distant.

 I didn't let a single muscle in my face betray the chaos she was causing in my blood.

 "Leave us" I said to the guards and they obeyed.

 It was just Amaya and I.

We both said nothing while I simply stared, cataloging her every detail.

The way her collarbones looked like fragile glass. The slight tremor in her lower lip.

The way her hair caught the firelight.

 So beautiful.

"You're shaking, princess," I said, my voice dropping an octave.

She didn't answer, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

"Look at me." I commanded.

She lifted her head, and the raw vulnerability there almost made me reach out.

 I considered it but Instead, I stood up and walked toward the grand piano sitting in the shadowed corner of the room.

 It was a masterpiece of ebony and ivory, a relic of a mother who had loved music more than she loved her son.

"Sit," I gestured to the bench. "Play."

She blinked, confusion momentarily overriding her fear.

"What?"

 "My people tell me you used to play the Piano"

 "Yes," She replied and added, "I... I haven't played in a long time"

 "I didn't ask for a history of your hobbies. I told you to play."

She slid onto the bench, her movements stiff.

She hovered her hands over the keys for a long moment before she began. It wasn't a happy song.

It was something melancholic, a classical piece that wept through the room.

It sounded like she was crying through it. I leaned against the mahogany pillar, watching her.

 From this angle, I could see the graceful curve of her neck and the way her lashes cast long, feathered shadows against her cheeks.

 She looked like peace, and I was a man of war.

 Her fingers danced over the ivory, and for the first time that night, the hollow ache in my chest began to recede, replaced by a dark, possessive heat.

 I wanted to see that skin flushed.

 I wanted to hear her make sounds that had nothing to do with music and everything to do with me.

 But I remained still.

 I've always been a man that valued his self control, I was not about to lose that now because of this strange girl.

 The final note of the piano echoed into the rafters, fading into a silence that felt intimate in an odd way.

 Amaya kept her head bowed, her chest heaving slightly as she waited for my judgment.

 I felt the urge to go to her, to tilt her head back and taste the fear and the music on her lips.

 The hunger was so sudden, so sharp, it disgusted me.

 I wasn't going to let my loins dictate my movements.

 I pushed off the pillar, my face returning to the mask of cold indifference that had kept me alive for nearly four decades.

 "Adequate," I said finally.

 She looked up, her eyes searching mine for something but whatever it was, she didn't find it. She looked away then.

 "Go back to your room," I said comfy, turning my back to her. "I have work to do. Do not let me see you again tonight."

 I heard the soft rustle of her dress as she stood, then her frantic footsteps as she hurried toward the door.

 Only when the click of the lock signaled her departure did I let out the breath I had been holding.

 I looked at the piano keys she had touched, then at my own hands. They were shaking.

The isolation of the past two weeks had been a slow, agonizing erosion of my spirit.

The guest unit, that's if you could even call it that, was nothing but a reinforced, luxury suite with bolted windows.

This so called "guest unit" had become my entire world.

I had memorized every grain in the oak flooring and every shadow that crawled across the ceiling at night.

Boring activity but there was very little to do.

I wasn't even allowed to interact with anyone else who wasn't Bane and I HATED interacting with Bane.

The guards had come for me that morning with a set of orders from their boss.

I was being moved to the main house.

 Why? I had no idea.

 As they walked by me across the meticulously manicured grounds of the Valak estate, the sheer scale of Bane's world finally hit me.

The main house dominated the very space it occupied.

 It was a fortress of marble and glass, a monument to a man who didn't just want to live.

 He was a king and he wanted everyone to remember his reign.

My heart hammered. Moving to the main house meant I was no longer a prisoner being "vetted."

 I was being integrated into this monster's world.

I was being branded as his.

The doors to the main foyer swung open, and I was greeted by a blast of chilled air and the scent of expensive lilies.

"This way, Miss Vancouver," one of the men muttered.

I followed him up a sweeping staircase that felt like it belonged in a palace.

My legs felt weak, the silk of my dress rustling against my legs with every trembling step.

We stopped in front of a double-door suite in the east wing.

 When the guard pushed them open, I gasped.

 It was beautiful. Unbelievably so.

The room was bathed in soft creams and golds, with a balcony that overlooked the Roman skyline in the distance.

It was a room designed for a princess, just like Bane had labeled me.

This was just another fancy prison.

"Your staff are waiting over here for you," the guard said, stepping aside.

Three women stood in a neat row near the walk-in closet.

They looked up as I entered, their expressions a mixture of professional neutrality and guarded curiosity.

"Good day, Miss Amaya. I am Elena," the oldest of the three said, stepping forward.

She had grey hair pulled into a bun so tight it seemed to pull the skin of her forehead smooth.

"I am the head of your domestic staff. These," she gestured to two younger staff members, "are Maria and Sofia. They will handle your wardrobe, your meals, and your personal needs."

I stood there, unsure of what to say.

 "I... I don't need all this," I whispered, my voice sounding thin.

 "Mr. Valak insists," Elena replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"He has reached out to several designers. Your wardrobe will be updated weekly. You are to be ready for dinner by seven each evening. Mr. Valak does not like to be kept waiting."

 I remembered rule number three in that moment.

Always appear presentable.

 "Understood," I said, my throat dry.

The women began to move with a practiced efficiency that I had only seen back in my father's mansion.

Maria began unpacking the few things I had brought from the isolation unit, while Sofia started drawing a bath in the ensuite, the sound of rushing water echoing off the marble walls.

 They didn't talk to me; they had more important things to handle and all I had to do was get out of their way.

  I sat on the edge of the massive bed, the velvet duvet feeling unnervingly soft.

I was settling into a routine that wasn't mine.

 I was not meant to be here.Even now, my mind kept thinking of ways I could escape.

 An hour passed in a blur of steam, scented oils, and the silent, judging eyes of my new attendants.

 They had dressed me in a tea-length dress of pale lavender, the fabric so light it felt like a second skin.

 They had brushed my hair until it shone like spun silver and applied just enough makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes.

 When they finally left I walked over to the window, looking out at the gardens.

 I could see guards patrolling the perimeter, their weapons glinting in the Italian sun.

 Bane's voice echoed in my head; "No leaving the premises."

 I turned away from the window, feeling the familiar prickle of tears.

 I couldn't do this.

 I couldn't just sit here and wait to be summoned like a pet.

 Suddenly, the heavy door to my suite creaked open.

 I stiffened, expecting Elena or perhaps Bane himself.

 I stood up, my hands clasping together in front of my stomach, bracing for whatever command was coming next.

 But it wasn't Bane.

A woman walked in, and for a moment, the air in the room seemed to move in her direction.

 She was a striking woman.

 Tall and athletic, with the kind of commanding presence that reminded me of Bane.

 She looked like an Amazon stepped out of a myth, her skin a warm bronze and her hair that was a vibrant, fiery red that cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall of flames.

 She had a handsome face.

 She wasn't dressed like the staff.

She wore a sleek, tailored suit that looked quite expensive.

 She was wearing a wide, genuine smile.

 It was the first warm thing I had seen in weeks.

 She closed the door behind her, her eyes scanning me from head to toe.

 There was no judgment in her gaze, only a deep, vibrating curiosity.

 "Well," she said, her voice rich and melodic, carrying a hint of a laugh.

"He certainly has a type, doesn't he?"

 I blinked, taken aback.

 "I... I'm sorry?"

 She laughed then and started walking toward me, her stride confident and long.

 As she got closer, I noticed the faint family resemblance in the structure of her jaw and the intensity of her eyes.

 It was a softened, more vibrant version of the darkness that lived in Bane.

 She didn't look at me like I was a prisoner or a victim.

 She looked at me the way a child would at an interesting jigsaw puzzle.

 She tilted her head, a lock of red hair falling over her shoulder.

 Her smile widened, showing white, even teeth.

 "You must be Amaya," she said, her voice warm, "It's so nice to finally meet you. My name's Regina Valak"

Regina Valak didn't move like any other person that I had come across in all my time here.

She moved the same way that her brother did; like she owned the air she breathed, and for a second, I felt a sharp pang of envy so strong it made my stomach ache.

She was free.

She was the definition of what I wanted to be, of what I should have been.

 Instead I was traded from dangerous man to the next.

Regina stood in the center of my new, gilded cage, her red hair looking like a splash of blood against the cream-colored walls.

Her smile stayed fixed on her face.

It was wide, bright, and entirely too much for a room that had rested within the walls of a mansion so utterly depressing.

"You're quieter than I expected," Regina said.

She didn't take her eyes off me as she walked over to the velvet armchair near the balcony and dropped into it, crossing one long, silk-clad leg over the other.

"Bane said you were a beautiful young lady but I must say he was greatly under exaggerating"

I stayed standing.

My hands were still knotted together at my waist, my knuckles white.

 "I appreciate the compliment. Thank you"

Regina tilted her head.

Her eyes were sharp, scanning me with an unnerving level of perception.

"You're hate it here don't you, Amaya? You despise my brother too on some level. I'd be shocked if you didn't"

I didn't answer.

I didn't know how to tell her that being alive now felt like a chore.

That every breath I took felt like I was stealing it from this evil man who had already decided I was his property.

 I didn't know how to tell her that if I had the chance I would kill her brother and then I would kill her for being what I could not.

"Look," Regina said, her voice softening. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

 "I know how you ended up here, Amaya. I know about your father. I know about the wedding night. And I know about the cell."

 I winced.

Hearing her say it out loud made it feel realer, dirtier.

"I'm sorry," she said, and for the first time, the smile vanished.

 Her expression turned solemn, almost grieving.

 "I'm truly sorry you had to get caught in the crossfire of a stupid cartel war. Men like my brother and Raul... they play for keeps, and they don't care who gets stepped on while they're moving their pieces. You were just a casualty of a territory dispute that had nothing to do with you."

The room was still silent.

 I still had nothing to say to this woman.

I could only look down at the Persian rug, tracing the intricate patterns with my eyes.

What was I supposed to say to that?

 "Oh, thank you for acknowledging I'm a victim? Thank you for the apology on behalf of the man who currently holds the keys to my life?!!"

The words felt stuck in my throat, dry and useless.

 I wanted to believe her.

I wanted to reach out to that warmth because it was the only thing in this house that didn't feel like ice.

But then I remembered the guards. I remembered the rules.

I remembered the way Bane had turned me into his little property.

I remembered he was HER BROTHER and I said nothing.

I don't think I even wanted to look at her in that moment.

 "You don't have to say anything," Regina said, sensing the wall I was building.

She stood up, the movement fluid and effortless.

 "I wouldn't trust me either if I were you. In this house, trust is a luxury we usually can't afford."

She walked toward the door, then stopped, looking back over her shoulder.

 "Bane's rules are... specific," she said, a small, mischievous smirk returning to her lips.

"He's not a jailer in the way you think. You're free to roam the estate grounds, Amaya. As long as you stay inside the walls, the guards won't touch you. Go outside. Get some sun on that pale skin of yours before you start looking like one of the ghosts in the hallway."

 I blinked.

 "I can go outside?" "Within the walls," she clarified.

 "Think of it as a very large, very beautiful yard. I spend most of my time in the conservatory or the gym. I hope to run into you soon. Maybe we can find something to talk about that isn't my brother's brooding."

 She winked at me. "See you around, Amaya," she said.

 Then, she was gone.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me alone in the silence.

 I stood there for a long time, staring at the spot where she had been.

 I walked over to the balcony doors and pushed them open.

 The Roman air was warm, smelling of ancient stone and blooming jasmine.

 Below me, the gardens stretched out in a sea of green and floral colors. I saw the guards, their black suits stark against the flowers.

 Regina was warm. She was welcoming.

 She was the first person who had looked at me like a human being instead of a contract or a conquest.

 That was something nice that I could try to get used to.

 But as I watched her red hair disappear around the corner of the stone path below, I felt a familiar shiver.

 She was a Valak.

 She had the same blood as the man who had stolen me.

 I wanted to believe she was a friend. I wanted it so badly it hurt.

 But as I gripped the cold marble of the balcony railing, I knew I couldn't afford to be naive.

 I was in the lion's den, and even if one of the lions was offering me a smile, I was still the prey.