Eloise didn't breathe. She couldn't. Her lungs seemed to have forgotten their function, paralyzed by the chilling, impossible sentence Luciano had just delivered.
His words—"For freeing me"—hung between them like a blade suspended on a single, frayed thread. A terrifying implication of her accidental importance.
A chill rose from the base of her spine, crawling upward until her whole body trembled, not just from the cold, but from the frigid shock of his intent.
Luciano looked almost… pleased. Or perhaps, unshackled was the better word. his posture relaxed in the way only someone who has just finalized a difficult negotiation can be.
As though something heavy—had fallen from his shoulders, the moment she burned the estate and, ironically, sealed her fate with his.
Before Eloise could process the magnitude of his statement, Luciano glanced at the four men standing sentinel in the echoing foyer. His eyes flicked to Marcos, giving a silent command.
"My fiancée is secured," Luciano's voice cut through the tension, smooth and authoritative. "Your presence is no longer required. Return to your duties."
Marcos and the three other men bowed instantly, deeply, their heads lowered to their boss. Without a word or a sound, they turned and moved, disappearing through a hidden door in the stone wall, leaving Eloise completely alone with the man who claimed ownership over her immediate future.
Now that the guards were gone, the silence was heavy, personal, and profoundly isolating.
"I… I didn't know the estate was yours," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her lips parted, the truth stumbling out in a desperate, pleading rush. "I didn't even know you existed until ten minutes ago."
Luciano didn't blink. He stood there like carved, flawless marble, merciless and beautiful, watching her unravel under the crushing weight of his power.
His fox, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, stretched languidly in his arms.
"I did it out of pain," she continued, the words coming in broken bursts as traumatic memories clawed their way up her throat.
"I did it because I wanted to destroy something William cherished. I wanted him to feel the same crushing pain he gave me. I wanted him to taste ruin." Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, blurring the chandelier's distant light. "It wasn't meant for you."
Silence. Heavy, suffocating. The kind that made her throat close up and the vast, echoing foyer feel impossibly small. The air felt thick, waiting for judgment.
Then, something inside her finally cracked, splintering her fragile pride until it shattered completely. She sank to her knees on the marble floor, the cold biting into her skin. Tears spilled freely this time, hot, helpless, and utterly humiliating.
"I'm sorry," she choked, leaning forward, hands braced against the freezing floor. "I'll… I'll pay the money back. I'll take as many jobs as I can—I'll work two, three shifts a day—anything. Just… just let me go."
Her vision blurred, reducing Luciano to a tall, looming shape of pale light and darkness. "And I don't want to be your fiancée. I'm not ready for any relationship. I can't—"
For a heartbeat, the vast, echoing mansion was silent, save for her ragged breathing.
Then… Luciano laughed.
The sound was low, deep, devastatingly elegant—like velvet stretched taut over a razor-sharp blade.
"Oh, Paloma," he purred, stepping closer, his tailored trouser legs falling beside her trembling hands, the fox's snowy tail brushing softly against his arm. "You think a few jobs will pay off a debt of thirty million dollars?"
Her heart plummeted into an abyss.
"You will die," he continued amusement dripping like poison honey. "And your ghost will still owe me twenty-nine million dollars left to pay."
She choked on a sob, her breath hitching painfully.
His voice softened again, dangerously intimate, and somehow that was worse than his cruelty. "So I suggest you pay the debt another way… by becoming my fiancée."
She stiffened, defiance returning in a fragile, desperate spark, fueled by the memory of William's control.
"No."
The refusal was soft but solid, trembling but real. Her voice, though faint, contained the absolute authority of refusal.
The fox in his arms, silent until now, suddenly—and startlingly—let out a low, rumbling growl, a sound of guttural displeasure, as if personally offended by her insolence.
Luciano's eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw tightening in a way that sent a fresh rush of cold through the room. The air temperature seemed to drop further, responding to his mood.
His voice sliced through the air, all velvet elegance instantly stripped away. "Get up. My fiancée does not kneel in my foyer."
She didn't move.
She couldn't. Kneeling felt safer, less exposed, than standing face-to-face with this predator with nothing but brittle fear holding her bones together.
"I said," he repeated, colder now, his patience dissolving entirely, "Get the fuck up, Eloise."
Still she stayed on her knees, shaking uncontrollably, her hot tears hitting the freezing marble with soft, solitary taps.
Something in Luciano's expression shifted. It wasn't anger. It was something colder, something final and absolute.
"Fine," he said, turning away with a casual, indifference. He placed the fox gently down on the marble, where the animal stood alert, its silver eyes tracking Eloise. "You don't want to be my fiancée? No problem."
For a fleeting, desperate heartbeat, Eloise felt a dizzying surge of relief. She was free.
Until he added, his voice still low, but laced with iron: "Then jail it is. Thirty years for felony arson, destruction of personal property. I'm sure the state will be thrilled to prosecute the woman who ruined 30 million in assets, regardless of her motives."
It hit her like a physical scream in her chest, stealing all air and relief. Thirty years. Her entire youth. Gone.
Eloise sprang to her feet so fast she nearly slipped on the polished marble. She faced him, panic making her stutter.
"W-wait—thirty—what? You can't—"
She never finished the sentence.
Luciano moved too fast for her mind to register. He was suddenly right in front of her, closing the space in a terrifying blur of motion. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, his long, cold fingers slipping into the soft hair at her nape, controlling her spine with terrifying, ease. He forced her chin up until she was looking directly into his icy, beautiful, and utterly merciless eyes.
His eyes were cold fire, burning without heat.
Her stomach dropped, and a terrifying, heat flooded her limbs—fear, adrenaline… and something else, something deeply disturbing and primal.
"Listen to me very carefully, Paloma," he murmured, his voice quiet, accented, dangerously intimate as he held her captive. "I may have patience for work. For business. For hunting traitors."
His grip tightened further, pulling her flush against the front of his vest, the hardness of his body against hers overwhelming.
"But I have zero tolerance for disrespectand direct disobedience."
Her lips parted, trembling, unable to form a coherent thought, much less a word.
"The next time you disobey me," he leaned closer, his cool breath brushing her cheek, sending a seismic shock through her body, "…that will not end well for you."
Before she could pull away—before she could even formulate a thought of protest—
Luciano bent his head.
And bit her ear.
Lightly. Sensually. Deliberately.
The soft pressure of his teeth on her delicate ear was a shock of exquisite, pain and heat. Heat exploded down her spine, pooling low in her stomach, something molten, humiliating, and overwhelmingly potent blooming between her thighs. Her breath hitched in a sharp, involuntary gasp, a sound of pure surprise and arousal.
Luciano leaned back just enough to see her face—to take in her flushed cheeks, her trembling lashes, the way she couldn't catch her breath, the tears still glistening on her skin. He looked at her like a scientist looking at a successful experiment.
His smile sharpened. Predatory. Satisfied.
"Do you understand?" he asked softly, his voice a chilling caress.
Eloise nodded instinctively, her mind reeling, completely disconnected from her body.
Luciano's voice hardened slightly.
"Words, Paloma."
Her mouth opened, barely forming the sound.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice raw. "I understand."
"Good."
He released her, the loss of his touch almost as disorienting as the touch itself.
Her knees nearly buckled again without his hand holding her upright. She swayed, grabbing at the nearest support pillar, trying to hide the traitorous trembling that racked her body.
Luciano didn't spare her another glance as he called, his voice now crisp and professional,
"Ian."
A tall, dark-haired man appeared instantly from the inner hallway, having clearly been waiting nearby. "Sir."
"Take Miss Winters to the room. See that she is settled and has whatever she requires."
Ian nodded respectfully. "Of course, sir. This way, Miss Winters."
Eloise took one shaky step toward the sweeping staircase before Luciano's voice sliced through the air again like silk, halting her movement instantly.
"Paloma."
She froze, unable to resist the command.
She turned slowly, her breath held painfully tight in her chest.
Luciano's icy eyes dragged over her slowly, as if memorizing the ruined, trembling girl who had set fire to his life and, by doing so, had irrevocably tethered hers to his.
"I will see you at dinner," he said, a small, controlled smile touching the corner of his mouth. "Do not be late."
Her heartbeat thundered a desperate rhythm against her ribs.
"And," he added, brushing his fingers once through the fox's dense, white fur, his eyes never leaving hers, "I have a very nice present prepared for you."
He didn't wait for her reaction.
He turned and walked away, disappearing deeper into the mansion like a king returning to his throne.
His fox followed him with a soft, elegant swish of its tail, throwing one final, disdainful look over its shoulder at the common girl who had just disrupted their existence.
Eloise stood there trembling, her breath unsteady, her throat raw, the ghost of his teeth still burning against the delicate shell of her ear.
Whatever terrifying, calculated game she had just walked into…
It was far, far more dangerous, and infinitely more intimate, than she had ever imagined.