The car ride is suffocatingly silent. Sienna sits stiffly, arms crossed, her nails digging into her skin as she stares out the tinted window. The glittering lights of the city fade behind them, replaced by the winding roads of the outskirts. The reality of her situation settles deeper with every mile—this isn't just a nightmare she can wake up from.
Matteo sits beside her, a picture of effortless control. One hand rests on his knee, the other taps idly on the leather-wrapped steering wheel. He doesn't look at her—not yet—but his presence alone is enough to remind her who holds the reins now.
The weight of the contract she signed still lingers on her fingers, as if the ink has seeped into her skin, binding her to a fate she never chose. She clenches her jaw, her heart pounding with every second of silence. The car, though spacious, feels like a cage.
Finally, she snaps.
"You can't seriously expect me to just sit there and play house for you."
Matteo's gaze flickers toward her, unreadable. "You already signed, Sienna. Your words mean nothing if your actions say otherwise."
She tightens her arms around herself. "I signed to keep my body off-limits. That doesn't mean I belong to you."
His lips curve—not quite a smirk, but something close. "That's where you're wrong. You're mine, whether you like it or not. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."
A sharp pang of defiance flares in her chest, but she swallows it down. She won't let him see her anger, won't give him the satisfaction of knowing just how deeply this situation is breaking her.
Outside, the scenery shifts, the streets narrowing as the buildings disappear. The road ahead is lined with tall trees, their shadows stretching long beneath the glow of streetlights.
Matteo finally speaks again, amusement laced in his tone.
"You're not asking where we're going?"
Sienna glares at him. "Does it matter? You'll take me there whether I want to go or not."
His low chuckle fills the space between them. "Smart girl."
The silence returns, heavier this time, stretching long enough that Sienna almost starts to believe the conversation is over. The only sounds are the quiet hum of the engine and the occasional faint rustling of trees against the wind.
Then, after what feels like an eternity, Matteo's voice cuts through the stillness.
"The wedding will be in a week."
Sienna's head snaps toward him. "What?"
His eyes remain fixed on the road ahead, his voice calm and unwavering. "For appearances, of course. A formal ceremony. You'll have a week to prepare—your dress, whatever else women do for weddings. You should start planning."
She stares at him, disbelief tightening her throat. "You think I care about a wedding? You expect me to just... smile and play the happy bride?"
Matteo finally turns to her, his expression unreadable. "I don't expect anything, Sienna. But I do expect you to be ready."
Her fingers dig into the fabric of her skirt as frustration surges inside her. A wedding. As if this entire situation wasn't humiliating enough, he now expected her to parade around in white, vow herself to him in front of an audience, and pretend that she was marrying him of her own free will.
"You're unbelievable," she mutters, shaking her head. "You can't just throw a wedding at me like it's some business meeting on your calendar."
Matteo doesn't react immediately. Then, with an almost lazy tilt of his head, he says, "That's exactly what it is."
Her breath catches in her throat.
"This marriage isn't about you, Sienna. It's about power. Image. Control." His voice is smooth, like he's explaining something obvious. "You and I both know love has nothing to do with it."
Her stomach twists. She should've expected that answer, but hearing it aloud still sends a cold shiver down her spine.
She turns away from him, pressing her forehead against the cool window. The outside world is a blur, a dark nothingness, mirroring the way her own future now feels—uncertain, inescapable.
A part of her wants to scream. Another part of her wants to fight. But deep down, she knows the truth—she's been cornered, outmaneuvered, trapped.
The car slowed to a stop in front of the estate, its towering silhouette casting an imposing shadow under the pale glow of the moon. The air felt heavier here, charged with an unspoken warning.
Matteo stepped out first, then turned back, holding the door open for her. His gaze was unreadable, his voice calm yet edged with something she couldn't quite place. "Welcome home, Sienna."
Home. The word felt foreign.
She hesitated before stepping out, her heels clicking against the polished stone driveway. The mansion loomed before her—dark, vast, and unwelcoming. High walls encased the property like a fortress, as if the outside world had been deliberately shut out.
A gust of wind sent a shiver down her spine, but she wasn't sure if it was the cold—or something else.
Matteo started walking, expecting her to follow. She did, but with each step, a deeper sense of unease settled in. She could feel it—the shift in her life, the unspoken reality of what she had signed herself into.
A single thought whispered through her mind.
This is not my home.
This is my cage.
And somewhere in the depths of this house, behind the locked doors and elegant walls, something told her she hadn't yet seen the full extent of what she had truly walked into.
Not yet.