Chapter 4

Dante's smile was a dare, a challenge wrapped in a veneer of charm. His words carried weight, but Sophia refused to be cowed by them. Her heart raced, but she wouldn't let him see how his presence unsettled her.

She took a step forward, her voice steady despite the tension thickening in the air. "You may think you can control everything, but I'm not like the others. I won't just fall in line."

Dante leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharpening with interest. "You think you're different? You think you can resist what's already set in motion?"

"I don't belong to you, no matter what you think," Sophia shot back, her voice unwavering. She could feel the storm building between them, the unspoken battle for control. She wasn't foolish enough to think she could win outright, but she had no intention of losing herself either.

Dante's smile didn't fade, but the air around him shifted, a darker energy radiating from him. "You're in my world now, Sophia. I suggest you learn to play by my rules."

Her chest tightened, but she stood her ground, unwilling to back down. "I'll play your game for now, but don't think for a second that you've won."

Dante stood slowly, the chair scraping against the polished floor as he moved. His height and presence loomed over her, casting a shadow that made the room feel even smaller. When he spoke again, his voice was low and controlled, each word deliberate. "Winning isn't a matter of choice here. It's inevitable."

Sophia swallowed hard but refused to break eye contact. The tension between them crackled like electricity, charged with both defiance and something else-something more dangerous, more primal. She could feel it in the way his gaze lingered on her, how the distance between them felt both threatening and intoxicating.

He took a step closer, his fingers brushing her chin as he tilted her face up to meet his gaze fully. "You might fight now, but eventually... you'll see the truth."

She pulled her face away from his touch, her skin burning where his fingers had grazed it. "Don't touch me."

Dante's smile faltered, his eyes narrowing for a brief second, but he quickly recovered, his composure as sharp as ever. "You'll learn, Sophia. One way or another."

Sophia turned away from him, her heart pounding as she forced herself to walk toward the large windows that overlooked the vast estate. The mansion's grounds stretched out in an endless maze of gardens and pathways, but the beauty of the view only made her feel more trapped. She could see freedom, but it was so far out of reach, an illusion she couldn't grasp.

Dante's footsteps were quiet behind her as he moved closer. "Your mother's treatment has already begun. She'll have the best doctors,   

"-the finest care that money can buy," Dante finished, his voice soft, almost coaxing. "You see, I always keep my promises."

Sophia's hands tightened into fists at her sides. It was hard to concentrate on his words when all she could feel was the suffocating weight of his presence. "And what about your other promises, Dante? The ones you haven't made yet but plan to force on me?"

Dante's eyes darkened as he approached, standing just behind her. "Sophia, you and I both know that this is a negotiation, whether you want to admit it or not. You want your mother alive. I want... you."

Her breath hitched at his words. There was no mistaking his meaning-the way his voice curled around the phrase like a possessive whisper. A shiver slid down her spine, but she turned slowly, forcing herself to meet his gaze, not wanting to let fear control her.

"You don't know anything about me," she said, her voice edged with defiance. "What you want isn't something you can just buy."

Dante smiled then, a slow, deliberate expression that made her skin prickle with unease. "Everything has a price, Sophia. Even you. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."

Sophia crossed her arms, glaring at him, refusing to give in to the fear his words provoked. "You may have control over my circumstances, but not over me. You don't own me, Dante. You never will."

His smile faded, and in its place, something far more intense simmered in his eyes. He closed the distance between them, his hand brushing against her arm, the contact sending an unwanted thrill through her. "You're strong. I like that. But don't mistake my patience for weakness. You are mine, whether you acknowledge it now or later."

Sophia jerked her arm away from his touch, the fire of her anger rising to the surface. "I'll never be yours. You think you can just buy me? You don't understand anything about who I am."

Dante's jaw clenched, his gaze narrowing. For the first time, there was a flicker of something like frustration in his expression. "You will learn, Sophia. In time, you'll see that fighting me only makes things harder for you."

"Or maybe I'll just keep fighting until I find a way out," she snapped, her heart hammering in her chest. She knew she was playing a dangerous game, but she refused to be another pawn in his world.

Dante studied her, his gaze roaming her face as though trying to decipher the thoughts behind her defiant words. Then, unexpectedly, he stepped back, his face unreadable once more. "You're free to fight, if that's what you choose. It won't change the outcome."

Sophia stared at him, the tension between them like a live wire, vibrating with unspoken threats and promises. But then he turned, walking toward the door as if their conversation was done, leaving her standing there, shaken and frustrated by how easily he dismissed her resistance.

Just before he exited the room, Dante paused, glancing back at her over his shoulder. "We'll be leaving soon. You'll want to be ready."

"Leaving?" she echoed, her brow furrowing. "Leaving for where?"

His lips curved into a shadow of a smile, a hint of mischief there. "You'll find out."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Sophia in the silence of the room, her mind spinning. The ground beneath her feet felt unstable, like everything she thought she could control was slipping through her fingers. She'd made her position clear-she wouldn't be his, not in the way he wanted. But something about the way he looked at her, the way he spoke, told her that Dante wasn't the kind of man who easily took no for an answer.

She turned back to the window, staring out at the vast gardens again. Her mind was a whirl of thoughts-her mother, her own trapped future, and the inescapable pull she felt toward Dante, despite every fiber of her being telling her to run.

Sophia's hands rested on the cool glass as she looked out over the estate. She had to stay sharp. Dante DeLuca might think he had her cornered, but she wasn't about to lie down and let him control her fate.

Not yet.

Not ever.