2. His first command

Her name was Isla, though she doubted it meant much to him. Not that she had intended to tell him; it had slipped out when he’d pressed her just a little harder. And now, as she sat in his lavish office, each passing second only intensified her unease. The man who owned her was Dante—a name that rolled off his tongue with quiet menace when he introduced himself. Isla had a sense he rarely bothered with introductions.

Dante paced back and forth, his eyes flickering over her in intervals as if calculating something—an analysis she had no way of interpreting. She shifted in the leather chair, feeling a sense of imbalance between them, as though she were a specimen under his microscope.

“So, Isla,” he finally said, leaning against his desk with a casual elegance that did nothing to soften the intensity of his gaze. “Do you have any idea what’s expected of you?”

Her throat tightened, and she shook her head slowly. “Not…exactly.”

Dante’s lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Honest, I see. Well, that’s refreshing.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “The men who brought you to me…did they tell you anything?”

“They didn’t tell me much,” she muttered, refusing to meet his gaze directly. “Just that…someone would be paying to keep me here.”

He tilted his head, his eyes sharpening. “They left out quite a bit, then.” He leaned forward, his voice low and dangerous. “Let me make things clear, Isla. You’re here because you have a role to fulfill—one that might just save your life if you play it well.”

Her stomach churned at his words. “And what if I refuse?”

“Refuse?” he repeated with a dry laugh, as if she’d said something absurd. He pushed off the desk and circled her chair slowly, like a predator inspecting its prey. “You misunderstand, Isla. In this world, refusal isn’t an option.”

Her heart hammered as he came to a stop in front of her, his gaze holding hers captive. She wanted to look away, but his intensity pulled her in, leaving her unable to break eye contact.

“And what if I don’t play this role of yours well enough?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dante considered her, amusement flashing in his eyes. “That’s entirely up to you. But failure here has consequences far worse than you can imagine.” He reached out, almost absently, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She stiffened at his touch, her entire body on high alert. “You’re resilient, aren’t you?”

She didn’t respond, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. She’d had to be resilient, her entire life a testament to survival in one form or another. But she wasn’t about to admit that to him.

Dante’s fingers trailed from her hair to her chin, tilting her head up slightly so she had no choice but to look directly into his dark, penetrating gaze. “What I need from you, Isla, is simple,” he said, his voice low, almost hypnotic. “Loyalty. Obedience. And above all…discretion.”

She clenched her jaw, trying to maintain her composure. “And what do I get in return?”

He gave her a humorless smile. “Your life, for one.”

Isla’s mouth went dry, but she refused to flinch. “That’s hardly a bargain.”

His grip on her chin tightened slightly, just enough to send a silent warning. “Then consider it a gift,” he replied smoothly. “A gift that few in my world receive.”

The weight of his words settled over her, and she realized that resistance here was not just foolish but dangerous. The walls seemed to close in, leaving her feeling trapped, outmaneuvered. For the first time, she truly felt the gravity of her situation.

“So,” Dante continued, his tone softening just a fraction, “are you going to accept your place here, or do I need to remind you of the alternative?”

Her heartbeat quickened, her mind racing. She wasn’t sure what he meant by “alternative,” but she had a sick feeling she didn’t want to find out. Inhaling shakily, she nodded, barely managing a whisper. “Fine.”

Dante’s expression shifted, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He released her chin and took a step back, observing her as though she were a puzzle he had finally solved. “Good. I knew you’d see sense.” He moved toward a small cabinet and pulled out a glass, pouring a measure of amber liquid before returning to her. “This is the beginning of a new life, Isla. One that might suit you, if you’re willing to adapt.”

Isla glanced at the drink he offered, hesitating. She knew better than to trust anything he handed her, but refusing seemed unwise. She took the glass, feeling the cool weight of it in her hand.

“Drink,” he commanded, watching her closely.

She lifted the glass to her lips, the sharp, smoky flavor filling her mouth as she took a tentative sip. It burned down her throat, but she managed not to cough, refusing to show any sign of weakness.

“Good,” he said with a slight nod, approving. “You’re learning.”

She set the glass down, fixing him with a wary gaze. “Now what?”

“Now,” he replied, his tone turning businesslike, “I’ll introduce you to your duties.”

He motioned for her to follow as he walked out of the office, his stride confident and unhurried. Isla trailed behind him, her mind a storm of emotions as she took in the opulent surroundings—rooms adorned with marble, floors lined with luxurious carpets, and chandeliers casting a soft glow over everything. This place was a fortress, and she was beginning to understand just how deep in she was.

They came to a halt in a spacious room filled with racks of clothing, shelves stacked with boxes, and cases of fine jewelry. Dante turned to her, his expression unreadable. “From now on, you represent me. How you present yourself reflects on me, so you’ll be dressed accordingly.”

She frowned, casting a wary look at the extravagant garments. “I don’t understand. What exactly am I supposed to be… representing?”

Dante raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. “You’ll be accompanying me to events, maintaining appearances, and ensuring that you act as a…valuable asset. If people believe you’re important to me, they’ll think twice before making certain moves. You’re part of my strategy.”

Her blood chilled at his words, the implications settling heavily in her mind. “So I’m a pawn.”

He shrugged, an unapologetic glint in his eyes. “Think of yourself as a shield if it makes you feel better. Either way, it’s a role that will ensure your survival—if you play it well.”

Isla forced herself to take a steadying breath. “And if I don’t play it well?”

Dante’s gaze darkened, and he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Then you won’t last very long in my world, Isla. But something tells me you have what it takes.”

The weight of his words lingered as he gestured toward the clothing racks. “Choose something fitting. We leave for an event in an hour.”

She glanced at the array of elegant dresses, feeling a wave of resentment rise up within her. But she pushed it down, understanding that for now, defiance would only lead to trouble. Swallowing her pride, she picked a dark gown that seemed appropriate, slipping behind a privacy screen to change.

When she reemerged, Dante’s gaze swept over her, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw approval flicker in his eyes. “Good. You look the part.”

She met his gaze, a touch of defiance glinting in her eyes. “I may look the part, but I won’t be as easily controlled as you think.”

A slow, amused smile spread across his face. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?” He offered her his arm, a mock chivalrous gesture that only reminded her of the chains binding her to him.

Reluctantly, she took his arm, each step beside him a reminder of the dangerous game she was now entangled in. As they walked toward the unknown together, Isla felt the weight of her fate settle on her shoulders, knowing full well that escape was a distant dream in Dante’s world.