A Cage made of Gold

The moment Alessia stepped into Damian’s home, she realized something—this wasn’t just a house. It was a statement.

Marble floors gleamed under the soft glow of the chandelier above, and floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the sprawling landscape outside. The decor was modern but carried an undeniable edge—like everything in Damian’s world, it was designed to intimidate.

And it worked.

She shifted uncomfortably, gripping the strap of her bag tighter. She had just stepped into a world she didn’t belong to.

Damian walked ahead, his broad shoulders cutting a path through the dimly lit hallway. "You’ll be staying in the west wing," he said, his voice cool, controlled. "It’s private. No one will bother you there."

Alessia let out a sharp breath. "How generous of you."

He glanced at her, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "I don’t recall giving you a choice."

Her jaw tightened. Of course, he didn’t.

"Follow me."

She hesitated, but there was no point in resisting—not when she had nowhere else to go. So, with a reluctant sigh, she followed him deeper into the house.

They stopped in front of a large oak door. Damian pushed it open, revealing a lavish bedroom that could have belonged to royalty. A massive bed sat against the far wall, draped in silk sheets, and a private balcony overlooked the estate.

Alessia stepped inside, taking in the absurd luxury. "This is… excessive."

Damian leaned against the doorway, watching her. "Would you rather sleep in the basement?"

She shot him a glare. "You don’t have a basement."

His smirk deepened. "Are you sure?"

A shiver ran down her spine. She wasn’t.

Rolling her eyes, she walked toward the window, pressing her fingers against the cool glass. The estate stretched far beyond what she could see in the darkness, surrounded by high walls and guarded entrances.

It was beautiful.

And it was a cage.

She turned to face him. "So, what now? Am I your prisoner?"

Damian pushed off the doorframe and stalked toward her, stopping just a breath away. "You’re under my protection," he corrected, his voice low, steady.

"Same thing," she whispered.

His fingers lifted to her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. "No," he murmured. "A prisoner fights to escape. You won’t want to."

Her breath caught.

Because he was right? Or because part of her didn’t mind the way he looked at her? Or maybe part of her wanted him to keep looking that way?

Why?

She didn't know.

It was as if an invisible force was making her obey his orders, no matter how much she resisted it.

She forced herself to step back, breaking the tension. "You’re insufferable."

Damian chuckled, completely unfazed. "Get some rest, Alessia. You’re safe here."

Safe.

She wasn’t sure she believed that.

As the door closed behind him, leaving her alone in the oversized bedroom, she exhaled slowly. She might be safe from the men hunting her…