Chapter 2 The Game of Control

Lina woke up the next morning to an unfamiliar silence. The air felt thick with tension, and for the first time in days, she noticed how much the world had shifted around her. Her father had sold her, and she was now under the control of Giovanni Moretti-a man whose very presence seemed to bend the room to his will. She wasn't sure if that scared her more than the reality of the situation or if she was just caught in the whirlwind of everything happening so fast.

She rolled over in the plush, velvet sheets of the bed. It was huge, the size of a small kingdom, with dark wood furnishings and heavy curtains that blocked the early morning light. The room felt like a cocoon-beautiful, isolated, and completely cut off from the world she once knew. Her clothes from yesterday-the black dress she'd worn to meet Giovanni-lay discarded on the floor, the silk crumpled and twisted as if mocking her helplessness.

It had all happened so fast. Her father had made the deal without consulting her, forcing her into the arms of a dangerous man for the sake of his debts. And now, here she was-captive in a world she didn't understand, one that promised no escape and no mercy.

Lina pushed herself up from the bed and walked toward the tall, gilded mirror by the door. Her reflection stared back at her with a kind of cold disbelief. She looked the same-dark, flowing hair, wide hazel eyes that always seemed to hold a quiet storm, a figure that was nothing extraordinary, yet somehow striking. But it was her eyes that spoke the truth. They had always been filled with dreams and hopes of something more than this. Now, they were haunted, caught between the promise of danger and the certainty of her fate.

With a sigh, Lina turned away and crossed to the desk where a small note had been left for her. It was written in neat, precise handwriting.

Breakfast is at 8:00. Don't be late.

Lina's stomach churned at the idea of sitting across from Giovanni again. The man who'd looked at her with such dark intent, as if he were peeling back the layers of her soul with every glance. She had no illusions about what he wanted. But it was the way he'd spoken to her last night, so sure, so certain that she would be his. It was as if she were already his property, already a part of his life, and that alone unsettled her more than anything.

The house was enormous-too big for just one person. Or perhaps it wasn't just one person. The feeling that she was being watched followed her down the halls, despite the emptiness of the mansion. Every step she took echoed like a soft reminder of her new reality. The house itself felt like a maze of power-every room a symbol of Giovanni's control, every corner steeped in luxury, in secrets.

When she entered the dining room, she froze.

Giovanni was already there, sitting at the far end of the long wooden table. His back was straight, his gaze sharp as he looked at something on his phone. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black slacks, the sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms covered in tattoos-delicate, intricate designs that hinted at a life of power and violence.

He didn't acknowledge her arrival, but she knew he was aware of every movement she made. Giovanni didn't need to look up to know she'd entered. He always knew.

Lina hesitated for a moment before walking toward the seat across from him. She could feel his gaze follow her as she took a seat, the chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound that seemed to rip the tension between them wide open.

"Good morning," Giovanni finally said, his voice low, controlled, like a predator greeting its prey. He didn't look up from his phone as he spoke, and yet, there was a weight to his words, a gravity that felt suffocating.

Lina didn't respond immediately. She studied the table in front of her, the fine china, the silver cutlery. It all seemed so foreign, so extravagant. She had grown up with money, yes, but nothing like this. Nothing like Giovanni's world.

"Good morning," she said finally, her voice steady, though she could feel the nervous energy crawling under her skin.

Giovanni put down his phone and looked at her then, his eyes dark and unreadable. There was a sharpness to his gaze that made her throat dry. She swallowed hard, willing herself not to look away.

"You're quiet this morning," he said, his voice almost amused. "You weren't so quiet last night."

Lina stiffened at the memory of their conversation. His words-the way he'd looked at her. She had tried to push it out of her mind, but now, with him sitting right across from her, it was all flooding back.

"I have nothing to say to you," she said, her voice more clipped than she intended. "You've made your point."

Giovanni's lips curled slightly, the smallest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That's where you're wrong, Lina," he said softly, leaning forward ever so slightly. "You don't have a choice. You're here because I wanted you here. And you're going to stay here because I'm not the kind of man who lets things go."

Lina's heart raced in her chest, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. "You think I'm just going to roll over for you? You think you can control me like that?"

His smile deepened, and for a brief moment, there was something dangerous in his eyes-a promise of something dark, something he hadn't yet shown her. "You'll learn that I'm not a man who makes empty promises," he said, his voice as cold and calm as ever.

The silence stretched between them as a waiter came in with breakfast-a spread of fresh fruit, eggs, and pastries. Giovanni's eyes didn't leave hers, his intensity unshakable as if every move she made was being scrutinized under a microscope.

Lina forced herself to take a bite of the croissant in front of her, her hands trembling slightly. She wasn't sure if it was from the fear or the strange pull she felt toward him-something she didn't want to acknowledge. Her body felt tight, trapped in a vice of his power, his presence.

"Tell me," Giovanni said, breaking the silence, "what are you so afraid of?"

Lina looked up sharply, her heart thumping in her chest. "I'm not afraid of you," she said, though her voice lacked the conviction she hoped for.

His eyes narrowed, and she could see that he wasn't buying it.

"I think you are," he said simply, his tone not cruel, just matter-of-fact. "But don't worry. In time, I'll show you that you're exactly where you belong."

The words struck her like a blow, but she refused to let him see how much they affected her. Instead, she stood, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I'll be in my room."

Giovanni's gaze followed her, but he didn't try to stop her. His silence spoke louder than anything else.

As she walked out of the room, the sound of her footsteps echoed in her mind, reminding her that, despite her resistance, she was already part of his world. And there was no way out.