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Chapter 6

Grace's POV

After that strange conversation with Eleonor, I didn’t feel like leaving my room at all. I mean, what would I even do in this house if I did? It’s not like I’m here willingly, and there’s this lingering sense of danger with every step I take.

I sit on the edge of the bed, sighing softly, and I’m surprised by just how comfortable it feels. Damn… even at home, I never had a bed this luxurious.

I let myself fall back, my eyes fixating on the ceiling as Eleonor’s words echo in my head. “You’re special.” What did she mean by that? How could I be special in Elio’s eyes? I’m just a girl who wants to escape the world she was raised in. There’s nothing extraordinary about me.

Sighing again, I sit up, feeling the creeping tendrils of boredom wrapping around me. Deciding to explore my room, I head to the large wardrobe. As I open it, I gasp in surprise. It’s filled—no, overflowing—with clothes, all in my size. I can’t help but wonder how long Elio had been planning to take me.

Everything in this room is just my style…

How? How could my father, the man who warned me time and again about how dangerous Elio was, have dared to betray him? And when exactly did this betrayal happen? Questions swarm my mind, but I quickly shake my head, refusing to let myself dwell on them. Not now.

Just then, a knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts.

"Come in," I say, my voice louder than I intended, betraying my unease.

Eleonor steps in, her face soft and gentle, the same maternal care radiating from her as before. "Grace, darling, do you need anything?" she asks, her tone warm but with an underlying seriousness.

"No," I reply, my voice clipped. "I just want to take a bath and sleep."

She nods understandingly, but I know well enough that my well-being isn’t the only reason she’s here. There’s something more—something unspoken.

"The padrone will be arriving soon," she says, her tone becoming a bit more formal. "He will explain the rules you’ll need to follow while you’re here. I know it’s late, but I suggest you stay awake. It wouldn’t be wise to test his patience tonight."

Of course. Heaven forbid the padrone—Elio—be kept waiting.

I manage to nod, though inside, my stomach churns with a mix of frustration and anxiety. "Fine," I mutter, pushing myself off the bed. "I’ll wait."

Eleonor leaves as quietly as she entered, and now the room feels even more suffocating. Rules. Of course, Elio would have rules. This isn’t just about keeping me here—it’s about control. He’s going to make sure I know exactly where I stand, what’s expected of me.

I make my way to the bathroom, turning on the tap and letting the water run until the tub fills with steam. Slipping out of my clothes, I sink into the warmth, closing my eyes in a futile attempt to relax. But no amount of hot water can wash away the unease settling in my bones. My mind drifts, and before I know it, my thoughts are filled with questions about Elio.

What kind of man is he really? Is he as ruthless as people say? Or is there more to him? I’ve seen the way he commands a room, the way people fear him, but fear and respect are different things, aren’t they?

I’m pulled from my thoughts when I hear footsteps outside the bathroom. My heart races as I realize I can’t ignore it. I reluctantly pull myself out of the bath, wrap a towel around myself, and open the door to find Eleonor waiting patiently.

"Elio is here," she says quietly, as if she can sense my nerves. "He’s waiting for you in the study. Dress quickly."

I nod, my heart pounding in my chest as I quickly throw on a simple, yet elegant, black dress from the wardrobe. It clings to my skin like a second layer, making me feel both vulnerable and prepared for whatever is about to come.

When I enter the study, Elio is already sitting there, waiting for me. He looks up, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. He rises from his seat, his lips curling into a smile that’s equal parts charming and dangerous.

"Ah, buona sera, Grace," he greets me, his voice smooth, each word wrapped in his thick Italian accent. "I trust you're settling in well?"

I swallow hard, trying to steady myself. "As well as I can, considering the circumstances."

He chuckles softly, stepping closer. "I suppose that’s fair," he says, his tone laced with amusement. "But you’ll find that things can go much smoother if you follow the rules, capisci?"

I nod, unable to tear my gaze from his. There’s something about Elio that’s utterly captivating, like a predator that you can’t look away from. He walks around me slowly, as if studying me—assessing me.

"Rule number one," he says, his voice dropping lower. "Non fare domande. Don’t ask questions that you don’t want the answers to. There are things in this world, cara, that are better left unknown."

I clench my fists, feeling the tension in the room rise. "And what if I do ask questions?" I challenge softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Elio stops, his eyes piercing into mine. He’s close now, too close. "Then you’ll find that curiosity comes at a price," he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin. "Capisci?"

I nod, my throat dry. His presence is overwhelming, intoxicating, and I hate how much it affects me. But I can’t let him see that.

"And the other rules?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

He smiles again, a slow, deliberate smile that makes my pulse quicken. "The rest you’ll learn with time," he says. "For now, just know this—you belong to me, Grace. As long as you’re here, sei sotto la mia protezione. You are under my protection."

Those last words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. Protection. Control. I don’t know which one is worse.

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