Wife of Alessandro de luca

Rose clutched the thin silk of her nightdress like a lifeline, her fingers trembling as she sat on the edge of the bed. Her pulse drummed loud in her ears.

Three hours ago, she had stood before an altar. A bride in ivory. A pawn in a game she didn't understand.

Now, she was alone in a mansion soaked in silence, in a bedroom far too lavish for someone who felt like a prisoner.

His bedroom.

The man she had just married-Alessandro De Luca was no husband. He was a shadow wrapped in tailored suits and a name that made grown men shiver.

He had left after the wedding, without a word. No explanation. No glance her way.

And now... he was back.

She heard the heavy click of his shoes before she saw him, broad shoulders cutting through the dim light as he entered the room like he owned it. Owned her.

Not a word.

Not a look.

He walked past her, shedding his jacket and undoing his cufflinks with clinical detachment. She watched as he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water soon filling the silence.

She didn't breathe. Not properly.

When he reemerged, damp hair slicked back and a towel slung low around his hips, he moved with quiet, predatory calm. He opened a drawer, and what he pulled out made her blood run cold.

Protection. A handful. More than necessary.

Her eyes widened. "Alessandro..."

He didn't meet her gaze. His voice was flat, void of emotion. "Lie down. Flat on your back."

The command shattered the stillness like a slap.

Her body stiffened. "W-what? What do you mean?" The fear in her voice betrayed her.

He finally looked at her, cold eyes sharp as blades. "I don't like repeating myself. Lie down. Now."

"No. No, I'm not doing that. I'm not an animal," she said, voice cracking but firm.

His jaw clenched. A dangerous stillness settled over him. Then came the quiet, lethal reply:

"Perhaps cuffing you would be more effective."

He turned to the drawer again, searching for something she didn't want to see.