Aurora's heart pounded as she stood before the large dining table, her gaze flickering between the untouched plates of gourmet food and the man sitting at the head of the table—Lorenzo. The dim chandelier above cast a golden glow on his sharp features, highlighting the dangerous aura that surrounded him. He was dressed in a crisp black suit, exuding authority even as he leaned back in his chair, watching her with unreadable eyes.
She had been brought here against her will, locked inside his world like a caged bird. And now, he expected her to sit and eat dinner with him as if they were anything other than captor and captive.
"I'm not hungry," she muttered, crossing her arms.
Lorenzo arched a brow, his fingers tapping against the armrest. "You haven't eaten all day."
She lifted her chin. "I lost my appetite the moment I was kidnapped."
A muscle in his jaw twitched, but instead of responding, he picked up a piece of steak with his fork and sliced through it effortlessly. "Sit," he ordered, his voice calm but firm.
Aurora clenched her fists, resisting the urge to obey. Every part of her wanted to defy him, to prove she wouldn't be another pawn in his twisted game. But the grumbling of her stomach betrayed her resolve, and she hesitated.
Lorenzo smirked. "Ah, so you are hungry."
She exhaled sharply and dropped into the chair across from him, glaring as she reached for the fork. If she had to eat, she would do it on her terms—not because he ordered her to.
Silence stretched between them as she chewed, the tension in the air thick enough to suffocate her. Finally, she broke it. "Why are you keeping me here?" Her voice was softer than she intended, but her defiance still burned in her eyes.
Lorenzo set his knife down with deliberate slowness. "Because I don't trust your family, and I don't trust you."
Aurora's stomach tightened. "I don't know anything about my family's business," she shot back. "I wasn't involved."
He studied her for a long moment, his gaze piercing through her like he could strip away her very soul. "That's what you claim. But you carry their blood. And blood, cara mia, does not lie."
Her breath hitched. There it was again—that chilling certainty that he had already judged her guilty. No matter what she said, no matter how she protested, he had already decided her fate.
"What do you want from me?" she whispered.
Lorenzo leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "I want you to understand something, Aurora." His voice was low, intimate, as if he were sharing a secret just for her. "You don't get to leave until I say so. You are mine, whether you like it or not."
A shiver ran down her spine. The words weren't just a threat—they were a promise. And she wasn't sure which terrified her more.
But if he thought she would break easily, he was wrong.
Aurora met his gaze head-on. "I may be trapped here, but I will never be yours."
Lorenzo smirked again, but this time, there was something darker behind his eyes. "We'll see about that."
And just like that, the dinner was over. But the war between them had only just begun.