Chapter 4 A Game of Power

The days that followed Lina's first real encounter with Giovanni passed in a blur, each one stretching on endlessly like a silent, suffocating chain. She had hoped that time would ease the tension between them, or at least give her some distance to breathe, but she quickly learned that in Giovanni's world, time moved differently. Every moment felt like an intricate dance of control, power, and manipulation, and Lina had no choice but to follow the rhythm.

The mansion had become her new prison, one she couldn't escape even if she tried. The walls, which had once seemed like nothing more than grand architecture, now felt like cold barriers, watching her every move. The staff-silent, efficient, and emotionless-barely acknowledged her presence, but their eyes always seemed to linger a moment longer than necessary. In a house this large, filled with so many secrets, Lina was certain that everyone knew exactly who she was and what had happened. She was Giovanni's possession now, an object to be controlled, a pawn in a game she couldn't yet comprehend.

She spent most of her days in her room, reading or staring out the window at the distant city skyline. Every so often, she'd catch glimpses of Giovanni as he moved about the mansion-his presence always commanding, always unnervingly calm. It was as if the entire house revolved around him, and everyone within it simply followed his lead.

The evening had arrived again, and Lina had been summoned to meet Giovanni. Her heart fluttered nervously as she stood before the full-length mirror, adjusting the black dress she had been instructed to wear. It was elegant-perhaps too elegant for a simple dinner-but nothing about Giovanni was ever simple. The neckline was high, the fabric smooth against her skin, but it wasn't the dress that made her feel exposed. It was the thought of seeing him again.

She had tried to convince herself that she was prepared, but the truth was, she had no idea what to expect. Every moment in Giovanni's presence was unpredictable, charged with something dangerous, something she wasn't yet ready to understand.

A soft knock on the door snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Miss Romano," a voice called from the other side.

"Come in," she said, trying to steady her breath.

The door creaked open, revealing Luca, Giovanni's right-hand man, once again. His stoic face didn't reveal anything, but Lina couldn't help but feel that same strange unease when he looked at her. She had learned quickly that Luca wasn't a man to be underestimated. His loyalty to Giovanni was unwavering, but there was something cold about him that made her skin crawl.

"Giovanni awaits you in the dining room," Luca said, his voice low but firm.

Lina nodded, the pit in her stomach deepening. "Thank you," she replied, though her voice betrayed her nerves.

Luca didn't respond, simply turning on his heel and leading her down the long, winding halls of the mansion. The walls were decorated with portraits of people she didn't know-wealthy figures with cold, calculating eyes, their expressions forever frozen in time. They watched her as she passed, and it made her feel as though the very house itself was judging her.

Finally, they arrived at the dining room, a large, opulent space with a long, dark mahogany table at its center. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a chandelier hanging high above them. Giovanni was already seated at the head of the table, his eyes flicking up as she entered the room. The moment their gazes met, the world outside seemed to fade away.

Lina stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. Giovanni's presence was overpowering, his gaze heavy on her like a weight she couldn't shake. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his posture relaxed yet commanding, like a lion watching its prey.

"Sit," Giovanni's voice cut through the silence, sharp and final.

Without thinking, Lina moved toward the seat across from him and sat down. She avoided his gaze, focusing on the fine china and the silver cutlery arranged before her. The food, though meticulously prepared, seemed insignificant in comparison to the tension between them. She could feel it, thick in the air, waiting to explode.

Giovanni's fingers drummed lightly on the edge of his wine glass, the sound resonating in the otherwise quiet room. He watched her carefully, his eyes never leaving her face. It was as if he were studying her, observing every reaction, every shift in her expression.

"How are you settling in?" he asked, his voice low, though it held a hint of mockery.

Lina forced herself to meet his gaze, though her heart pounded in her chest. "I'm... getting used to it," she replied carefully, the words feeling inadequate.

Giovanni chuckled, a deep, dark sound that made her stomach twist. "Getting used to it," he repeated, as if savoring the words. "I suppose you will, eventually."

The waiter entered then, and Giovanni's attention shifted, though his gaze still lingered on Lina. The man set a plate of food in front of her-something delicate, expensive, and gourmet-but Lina had lost her appetite. Nothing tasted right anymore.

"Eat," Giovanni commanded, as if his words were an order she had no choice but to follow.

Her eyes flicked from the plate back to him. "I'm not hungry," she said, her voice trembling despite her attempt at strength.

Giovanni's expression hardened. "I'm not asking you to eat because I care whether you're hungry, Lina. I'm asking because I told you to."

Lina's pulse quickened at the authority in his voice. His words were simple, but they carried a weight she couldn't ignore. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Giovanni stood up from the table, his movements fluid and graceful, like a predator on the prowl.

He circled around her, slowly, methodically. His presence was overwhelming, and Lina felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. He stopped behind her, leaning in close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, the tension in his frame.

"You see," Giovanni murmured, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. "In my world, we don't have the luxury of choice. You don't get to choose what you want. You don't get to choose when to eat, when to speak, or when to leave. You belong to me now, Lina."

She could feel the weight of his words settle over her like a dark cloud. Her stomach churned, but she refused to let him see her fear. Instead, she stiffened, straightening in her chair.

"I'm not afraid of you," she said, though her voice wavered more than she wanted to admit.

Giovanni chuckled again, that same dark, knowing sound. "You will be. In time, you'll learn to be afraid of everything I am."

He stepped back, his gaze lingering on her with a cold intensity before he turned and began to walk away. Lina's heart thudded painfully in her chest, but she held her ground, refusing to let him see how much his words had affected her. She had no choice but to play along-for now.

"I'll leave you to your dinner," Giovanni said over his shoulder, his voice a taunting whisper. "But don't forget, Lina-you're mine. And I always get what I want."

As he disappeared from the room, Lina sat frozen in place, her mind racing, her body trembling.

She had been warned. But the question lingered in the back of her mind like a quiet whisper: How far would Giovanni go to make her realize just how deep she was in his world.