When Isla's estranged father steals millions from the Moretti family and vanishes, Dominic takes Isla as collateral. But he doesn't just want repayment-he wants her. Dominic drags her into his opulent, dangerous world and makes her an offer: either rot in a cell in his mansion or become his personal possession until her father shows up. What starts as captivity turns into a twisted obsession. Dominic pushes, breaks, and reshapes Isla's world-and her heart. But she's not as breakable as he thought, and Dominic starts to realize he might've met his match. As the secrets of her past unravel and the enemies of the mafia close in, the line between love and control begins to blur.
Chapter 1 The Debt
ISLA
Rain soaked through my hoodie as I hurried across the cracked pavement of 12th Avenue. My hands clutched my art portfolio like it could shield me from reality. Another exhibit rejection. Another door closed.
I was used to failure by now, but it still stung like open skin.
The lights in my building flickered. My cheap apartment was just five minutes away, and all I wanted was to crawl into bed, blast sad music, and forget the world existed.
That's when I noticed it.
A black car.
Not just any car-sleek, polished, and utterly out of place in this grimy part of the city. Its engine purred low, like it was waiting. Watching.
My stomach tightened.
I kept walking, faster now, my boots slapping against puddles. Don't look. Don't stop.
But then I heard them.
Footsteps.
I spun around just as a hand clamped onto my wrist.
"Miss Isla Monroe?"
I yanked my arm back with a gasp. Two men stood behind me-tall, suited, and terrifying. The kind of men who didn't just look dangerous. They were.
"Who are you?" My voice wavered despite my best effort to keep it steady.
"We're not here to hurt you," the one on the left said, though his grip said otherwise. "We've been asked to bring you to Mr. Dominic Moretti."
The name hit like a jolt of electricity.
"I don't know him," I lied quickly. "I've never met him."
"You don't have to know him," the other man replied. "Your father does."
Before I could run, scream, or even breathe, a needle of panic stabbed into my spine-and the world went black.
---
DOMINIC
She was smaller than I imagined.
The girl they dropped in front of me was pale, drenched, and trembling. She blinked awake in the leather chair across from my desk, her face etched with confusion and fear.
Not fear of me yet. That would come.
"Do you know who I am?" I asked, folding my hands beneath my chin.
She sat upright slowly, eyes locking on mine. Green. Defiant. I liked that.
"Dominic Moretti," she murmured. "I've heard of you."
"I'm sure you have," I said. "And do you know why you're here?"
She shook her head. "I didn't do anything."
"No," I agreed. "But your father did."
Her brows pulled together. "I haven't seen him in years."
"And yet, he used your name," I said, rising from my chair. "Transferred over three million dollars out of my accounts. Gone, just like that. Then he vanished. Clever bastard."
She stood too, chest heaving. "I had nothing to do with that! I don't even speak to him!"
"I believe you."
Her breath caught in her throat. "Then let me go."
I walked around the desk, stopping a breath away. "Your father thinks he can disappear and leave his debts behind. That's not how it works in my world, sweetheart."
Her fists clenched. "So what? You're going to kill me for it?"
"No." I leaned in, my voice low and calm. "You're not going to die. You're going to stay."
---
ISLA
I took a step back, but his hand shot out, gripping my chin. Not hard. But firm. Dominant.
"I'm not yours," I spat.
His eyes flicked down my body, slow and unapologetic.
"You are now."