Chapter 2: The Terms

I have no choice. I stand there in the silence of the locked living room, the weight of my reality finally sinking in. If I want the blood of the men who broke my family, I have to play by the rules of the man who wants to own me. I agree to stay. I’ll hide here, in the one place my father’s enemies would never think to look, and once I have my revenge, I’ll disappear. For now, Simo Vane is my protector, even if he feels more like a captor.

Simo looks past me and raises a hand. A woman in a neat uniform, Emma, appears from the shadows of the hallway.

“Emma,” Simo says, his voice cold and commanding. “Serve breakfast for two in the dining room.”

Emma nods quickly, her eyes darting to me for a split second before she walks out to fulfill the order. I watch her go and then turn back to him, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I’m not hungry,” I say.

Simo doesn’t even blink. He steps closer, his presence looming over me. “You can die of starvation for all I care, but as long as you are in my house, I am sheltering you. That means you are in my care. When I say you eat, you eat. That is final.”

His arrogance makes my blood boil, but he doesn’t give me a chance to argue.

“Go back to the room and freshen up,” he says, already turning away.

“Wait,” I call out, stopping him. “Am I not getting my own room? A house this big must have dozens of guest suites. I want my own space.”

Simo stops and looks back at me over his shoulder, a dark, knowing glint in his eyes. “I was actually considering that. Right up until you decided to threaten to leave the moment you got what you wanted.”

He turns fully now, taking a slow step toward me that makes my heart skip a beat.

“Since you’re such a flight risk, you’ll be staying with me in my private suite. That is where you will be sleeping, Ria. Under my eye. Every single night.”

I stand there, completely shocked, my mouth slightly open as I try to process what he just said. Sleeping in his room? Sharing a space with the man who looks at me like I’m his most prized possession?

Before I can find the words to protest or scream, he is already walking out, his head down as he taps away on his phone. He doesn’t look back, leaving me standing in the middle of the room with the crushing realization that my cage just got a lot smaller.

I walk into the dining room, the heels of my feet silent against the polished floor. Simo is already there, seated at the head of a long, dark wood table that looks like it belongs in a museum. There is no denying it; he is a very handsome guy. He has the sexiest look I’ve ever seen on a man, a dangerous mix of sharp jawline and heavy-lidded eyes.

The moment I enter, his gaze locks onto me. He stares at me from head to toe, his eyes lingering on the way his long white button-down shirt hangs off my frame. It’s the only thing I could find in his closet. The hem hits high on my thighs, leaving them completely exposed as I walk. I see his throat move as he swallows, his eyes darkening as they track the movement of my legs.

“My face is up here,” I say, throwing the sarcasm at him like a shield.

I pull out a chair and sit down, trying to ignore the way the air in the room suddenly feels twice as hot. Simo doesn’t look away. Instead, a slow, predator-like smirk plays on his lips.

“My shirt looks good on you, Ria,” he teases, his voice dropping to that low, gravelly register that makes my skin prickle. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Makes it much easier for me to undress you later.”

My heart throbs against my ribs, a wild, erratic beat that I’m sure he can see in the pulse of my neck. I lift my chin, refusing to let him see me crumble. “I’m not scared of you, Simo.”

He lets out a soft, dry laugh, the sound vibrating in the space between us.

“It sucks wearing your shirt anyway,” I add, looking down at the oversized cuffs I had to roll up multiple times. “But of course, I didn’t exactly have time to pack a suitcase before my house was blown apart.”

“I’ll take care of the clothes,” he says, his tone shifting back to that casual, dominant authority. “Now eat.”

I pick up my fork and start eating, the food tasting like ash despite how perfect it looks. Simo eats peacefully, but he doesn’t give me any privacy. He stares at me more often than he looks at his own plate. Every time I glance up, his eyes are there, heavy and expectant. I try my best to avoid his gaze, focusing on anything else in the room, but I can feel his stare like a physical touch against my skin.

The maid clears the table in a heavy, suffocating silence. I wait until the door clicks shut behind her before I turn my focus back to the man sitting across from me. I lean forward, my hands flat on the polished wood.

“What’s the plan, Simo? I need to know how I’m getting my revenge. I need to be involved. I want the names of the people who shattered my family.”

Simo leans back, watching me with a maddeningly calm expression. “Slow down, Ria. You’re still raw. If we’re doing this, I need the shipping codes to your father’s eastern ports. I need full access to the manifests and the docking schedules.”

“No,” I snap, my voice echoing in the vast room. “Those codes are my father’s legacy. They stay with me. I’m not just handing his life’s work over to a Vane.”

“Then I can’t help you,” he says, his eyes turning cold. “This is exactly why your father ended up in a body bag. He spent years playing the master, thinking he was untouchable while he collected enemies like trophies. He was an arrogant man, Ria, and he was a fool.”

I slam my hands against the table and stand up so fast my chair screeches. “Don’t you dare insult him. You didn’t know him. You only knew the man who beat you at your own game for thirty years! You’re just a scavenger waiting to pick at his bones!”

Simo stands too, his massive frame looming over me, his shadow stretching across the table until it swallows me whole. “I knew him well enough to know he left his daughter vulnerable. If I’m going to use my men to clean up his mess, I need those codes. I need to control the flow of what comes in and out of this city.”

“You don’t want to help me,” I shout, stepping around the table until I’m inches from his chest. The scent of his expensive cologne hits me, mixing with the adrenaline. “You’re using my father’s death to stage a hostile takeover! You want to be the king of the ports, and you think I’m the key to the gate.”

“His legacy is a pile of ash!” Simo roars, his composure finally snapping. He grabs my upper arms, his grip firm and searingly hot. “Those codes aren’t a legacy, they’re a target. As long as you hold them, you’re a dead woman. Give them to me, and the target moves to my back!”

“I’d rather burn them to the ground than see a Vane flag flying over my father’s docks!” I spit back, my eyes boring into his.

We are breathing the same air, my chest heaving against his, the tension between us so thick it feels like it could combust. His eyes drop to my lips, his grip tightening, and for a heartbeat, the anger shifts into something electric and dangerous.

The heavy double doors swing open, shattering the moment. Simo’s right-hand man walks in, holding a phone that is vibrating in his palm. “Boss,” he says urgently. “This has been ringing nonstop since we pulled it from the wreck.”

I recognize the casing immediately. It’s my father’s personal phone. I snatch it from his hand, my heart stopping when I look at the screen. The caller ID displays Dad. My thumb trembles as I swipe to answer.

“Hello?” I whisper.

“Hello, Ria,” a familiar, gravelly voice answers.

My blood turns to ice. “Uncle Marco?”

I look at Simo, my eyes wide with terror. I grip the phone so hard my knuckles turn white, my voice barely a breath as I ask the question that makes my world tilt.

 “How are you calling me from my father’s stolen phone?”