Breaking Point

Alessia had always been stubborn. But Damian Russo was relentless.

For the next few days, she tried to ignore him—to pretend like the memory of his whispered promise didn’t linger in her thoughts. She tried to convince herself that his presence didn’t affect her, that the way he looked at her didn’t set her skin ablaze.

It was a lie.

Every morning, she would see him at breakfast, his dark eyes studying her over the rim of his coffee cup. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t have to. His presence was enough.

He was in control. Always.

And she hated that.

One evening, as she wandered the halls of the estate, she found herself drawn toward the sound of voices—low and tense.

She followed the sound to Damian’s study. The door was slightly ajar.

"She stays here. End of discussion," Damian’s voice was sharp, final.

A second voice, one she didn’t recognize, responded. "You think keeping her locked up is going to protect her forever?"

Alessia frowned. Were they talking about her?

Damian’s response was immediate. "I don’t care what anyone thinks. She stays where I can keep her safe."

Something inside her snapped.

Without thinking, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. "I’m standing right here, you know."

The room fell silent.

Damian turned slowly, his expression unreadable. The other man—a tall, lean figure with sharp eyes—raised an eyebrow.

Damian exhaled through his nose. "Alessia."

She crossed her arms, ignoring the tension in the room. "If you’re going to discuss my life like I’m a business deal, at least have the decency to include me in the conversation."

The other man chuckled. "I like her."

Damian shot him a glare.

Alessia, undeterred, took a step forward. "I don’t need to be protected like some helpless damsel, Damian."

He tilted his head, studying her. Then, in a smooth, deliberate motion, he closed the space between them.

"Tell me, Alessia," he murmured, voice low. "Do you think those men who chased you that night were just looking to scare you?"

She swallowed hard but didn’t back down. "No."

His fingers grazed her wrist, the touch barely there, but enough to make her shiver. "Do you think they would have let you go if I hadn’t intervened?"

NO. She knew she wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for Damian.

A lump formed in her throat.

"You’re not a prisoner here," he continued, his voice softer now, but still laced with steel. "But you are in my world now. And in my world, protection isn’t a choice."

Her pulse hammered. "So what? I’m supposed to trust you?"

His dark eyes locked onto hers, intense and unwavering. "Yes."

She wasn’t sure what terrified her more—the idea that she might actually trust him… or the fact that she wanted to.

Either way, she wasn't the one in charge of power.

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