Page 40 of Brutal Vows

My jaw drops and my stomach with it. “A hundred thousand dollars? What on earth⁠—”

“Too little?” he says as he holds the card out to me.

“Good god, Luca, a month? For what?”

He grinds his jaw, staring at me.

“Princess.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his thighs with a sigh. “There’s been a shift. This thing with Gabi… I’m not sure you understand the situation. For now, you’re here, properly Rapunzeled for lack of a better word, and you’re going to have to entertain yourself. I dunno. Write a book, paint our fine landscape from this window, make a quilt, bake sourdough, practice piano, work toward doing a recording. We surely can arrange something like that here? In the apartment?”

“With these acoustics? They’re terrible! You’ll have to cover the whole place in carpet first,” I spit out, saying the only thing that is clear in my head. My body went numb at the words Rapunzeled and entertain yourself. Right now, I’m still in shock, but I’m reeling because being locked up in a Boston high-rise was never my plan.

“Really?”

He is clueless. Tiny flames of fury are licking at my insides. I am powerless—again. “What do you mean by Rapunzeled?”

He drops his gaze, and when his eyes come back up, they hold an apology. But it’s an anchor chain twisting around me, squeezing out all air as it locks me in place.

“This is now your tower, so grow a terrarium or a rainforest or something in this glass cube you’re stuck in. Your stay is free, but sanity…sanity costs money. Therefore the credit card. You needed money, didn’t you?”

All the money in the world, but I’m stuck. I’m quivering now, blood careening through my veins, blind spots dotting my vision. “Do you mean I don’t get to go out at all?”

“Everything you need is here.”

No, it isn’t. Nothing I need is here. “That isn’t an answer,” I hiss.

“Well, you can’t leave this apartment. Not until this situation with Gabi is resolved.”

“But that could take—” I break off, head spinning, pressure pulsing in my temples. “That could take months, if not years.”

“I wouldn’t know. You tell me. Italians have a different take on time than the rest of the world.”

Time isn’t the issue and yet it’s the most important thing here. He doesn’t trust me to stay put. He doesn’t trust me. He’s going to keep me caged⁠—

“Fuck you!” I screech, turning on him with claws raised, ready to hit and scratch.

He pre-empts me, just as he did with our first kiss, and has my wrists trapped in his hands before I can get in even one slap or scratch. He staves me off; I struggle, but it’s a joke. Worst of all, his grip is so gentle, I won’t even bruise.

“We don’t do that type of shit here, princess,” he says, so calmly the words chill me. “Not unless it’s for fun…if you know what I mean.”

My chest heaves, his sexual innuendo coursing through me, pulsing where I touched myself earlier. And then, I really lose it. I start to fight as if my last breath depends on it, jerking at his hold, shifting, trying to lift a knee to shove it into his groin.

But he is faster. He’s up from his seated position in a flash and somehow has me on my back, hands trapped above my head. I gasp as his body bears down on me, solid, warm, unforgiving in its male strength.

I can hardly breathe with his weight on me, but he shifts and this is even worse. His thigh rests between mine, and through the layers of our jeans, I can feel his length, the hardening ridge of his cock, pressing into my sex.

“Well, that took an unexpected turn,” he murmurs as he pushes himself up a little on one hand, the other still handcuffing both of mine, staring into my eyes. A hint of a smile plays on his lips. “Your reaction wasn’t entirely unexpected, but you’re killing the messenger here.”

“The messenger—” I choke out, hating the hot tears of helpless frustration burning behind my eyes. “Who the fuck decided this? Ivan?” Fuck my brother to still have a hold on me despite pawning me off to Il Consiglio.

“No. Matty and Nicky walked in while I was with Ben, and we’re all in mutual agreement that this is for the best. For your own safety.”

Fuck my safety. Sitting here is going to kill me. “So I have no agency because some fucknut Russian is looking for your sister?”

“Yeah. Before you spit at me in rage, let me finish. I’m going to need your phone too, to see what you get up to during your ample free time.”

My last connection to Masha⁠—

I can’t let him have it⁠—