CHAPTER 4: GOLDEN CAGE
~SIMONE~
The first feeling was pain, a relentless beating at my temples that throbbed in time with my heartbeat. The second was silk against my skin, cool and unfamiliar.
My eyes flew open, the memory of blood and gunshots still echoing in my mind.
This wasn't my room.
Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, brightening an opulent bedroom that rivaled even the Alejandro estate in its luxury.
Cream-colored walls decorated with priceless art. A crystal chandelier hangs from a coffered ceiling. Decorated furniture crafted from rich mahogany.
A prison disguised as paradise.
I bolted upright, immediately regretting the sudden movement as nausea swept through me. My wedding dress was gone.
In its place were silk pajamas in deep burgundy, someone had changed my clothes while I was unconscious. The violation made bile rise in my throat.
My father was dead.
The truth hit me anew, stealing my breath. Don Vincenzo Alejandro, the most feared and respected man in Sicily, had bled out in my arms on what should have been the happiest day of my life.
And now I was... where? Captive? Kidnapped?
I forced myself to stand, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to pull me back into darkness.
The windows revealed a stunning view of the Mediterranean, with waves crashing against jagged cliffs far below. A beautiful view I couldn't reach...the windows didn't open.
The bedroom door was equally stubborn when I tried the handle.
My hands flew to my neck, searching.
The sapphire pendant...my father's final gift, with its hidden compartment...was gone. Panic surged through me, stronger even than grief.
I scanned the room for weapons, for anything I could use. A heavy vase, perhaps. A letter opener is on the desk. I grabbed the latter, hiding it up my sleeve just as a key turned in the lock.
The golden-eyed stranger from the cathedral entered, carrying a silver breakfast tray.
He'd changed from his blood-spattered suit into a crisp white shirt and tailored black pants that called attention to his tall, muscular frame.
Without the chaos of the shooting, I could see him now, devastatingly handsome in a dangerous way, with sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw darkened by stubble, and those scary amber eyes that seemed to miss nothing.
"You're awake," he observed, his deep voice carrying the faintest accent I couldn't place. "Good. You've been unconscious for nearly twenty hours."
"Where am I?" My voice came out hoarse, raw from screaming.
"My villa," he replied, setting the tray on a nearby table. "Northern Sicily, about two hours from Palermo. You're safe here."
"Safe?" I laughed, the sound brittle even to my ears. "With my father's murderer?"
Something dangerous flashed across his face...not anger, exactly, but a cold calculation that made the hairs on my neck stand on end.
"I didn't kill your father, Simone." He gestured to the breakfast tray. "You should eat. The doctor said you're dehydrated."
I glanced at the elegant spread—fresh fruit, pastries, coffee in a silver pot. "How civilized of you to feed your prisoner."
"Guest," he corrected with a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Though one with... limited mobility, for the time being."
"What do you want from me?" I demanded, tightening my grip on the hidden letter opener. "Ransom? Information? Because I have neither."
He moved toward the windows, looking out at the sea with his back partly turned to me...a planned show of confidence. He didn't consider me a threat.
"What I want," he said slowly, "is for you to understand your new reality."
In one fluid move, I lunged, bringing the letter opener to his throat. He didn't flinch, didn't even seem surprised. Those golden eyes simply watched me with something close to amusement.
"My reality," I hissed, pressing the dull blade against his skin, "is that you stormed into my wedding, my father was murdered, and now I'm being held against my will by Nicholas Stravkos...yes, I know exactly who you are."
His lips curved into a cold smile. "Then you know that threatening me with a glorified butter knife is about as effective as threatening a shark with a water pistol."
Before I could react, his hand closed around my wrist in an iron grip, twisting until the letter opener clattered to the floor.
I refused to cry out, matching his stare with equal intensity.
"I admire your spirit," he said, still holding my wrist. "Most people in your position would be begging for mercy, not plotting my demise with stationery."
"I'm not most people."
"No," he agreed, releasing me with unexpected gentleness. "You're not."
I stepped back, rubbing my wrist. "My necklace. Where is it?"
"Being cleaned. Blood has a tendency to tarnish silver settings." He studied me with unnerving focus.
"It will be returned to you, along with appropriate clothing. The staff has burned your wedding dress...it was beyond salvaging."
Something primitive and furious rose within me.
Every violation...my father's murder, my kidnapping, the theft of my clothes and jewelry...fueled a rage I'd never known I was capable of.
In one swift movement, I grabbed the breakfast tray and hurled it at him, sending china, silver, and food flying.
Nicholas sidestepped most of it, though coffee splashed across his white shirt. His expression didn't change, not even a hint of anger.
That controlled calm angered me more than any reaction would have.
"Why?" I screamed, voice breaking. "Why did you kill him? Why take me? What do you WANT?"
He removed a pristine handkerchief from his pocket, methodically dabbing at the coffee stains. "Are you finished?"
I spat at him, a direct hit on his cheek.
For the first time, something genuine crossed his face....surprise, followed by something darker. He wiped his cheek slowly, deliberately.
"That," he said quietly, "was your one free act of defiance. There won't be another."
"Or what? You'll kill me too?"
"No, Simone. I went to considerable trouble to acquire you alive." He tucked the handkerchief away, his composure restored.
"But there are many rooms in this house, some far less comfortable than this one."
I crossed my arms, hating the way my body trembled with exhaustion and anger. "Why am I here? Just tell me that."
Nicholas crossed to a wingback chair and sat, gesturing for me to do the same. I remained standing.
"Your father and I had a complicated relationship," he began, watching me carefully. "One that goes back further than you know. I arrived at the cathedral to prevent his assassination, not participate in it."
"Liar."
"The facts support my version, not yours. Who gains from Don Alejandro's death? Not me—our territories don't overlap, and we had a respectful détente." His eyes narrowed slightly. "But your uncles? They gain everything."
A chill ran through me as I recalled the priest's words at the church. 'The uncles... they nodded to someone just before...'
"My uncles wouldn't..."
"They would and they did," Nicholas interrupted flatly. "Baron and Hector Alejandro have been planning this coup for over a year. Your wedding provided the perfect opportunity, all major players in one location, security focused on external threats rather than internal ones."
I shook my head, desperate to deny what instinct told me was true. My uncles had always been ambitious, upset with my father's power, and dismissive of me as his heir.
Nicholas continued, relentless. "I've been tracking their movements for months. I intercepted communications, followed money trails, and flipped some of their men. I knew exactly what they planned...I just arrived fifteen minutes too late to stop it."
"Why would you try to save him at all?" I challenged. "The Stravkos and Alejandro families have been rivals for decades."
Something shifted in his expression.. a flash of what might have been genuine emotion before the mask returned.
"As I said, it's complicated."
"Then uncomplicate it," I demanded.
He stood, moving toward me with predatory grace. I forced myself not to back away, even as he stopped close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
"Your uncles sold you to me yesterday, princess," Nicholas said, his voice soft, almost intimate. "Right before they arranged your father's assassination."
The world wavered beneath my feet. I reached out instinctively, my hand finding his chest for support. Under my palm, his heartbeat was steady and strong while mine threatened to shatter my ribs.
"No," I whispered, but even as denial left my lips, pieces clicked into place...my uncles' strange behavior in recent weeks, the way they'd pushed for this marriage despite Rafael's obvious unsuitability, their insistence that security protocols be changed at the last minute.
"I have the contract," Nicholas continued, making no move to dislodge my hand from his chest. "Signed by both Baron and Hector Alejandro. You, in exchange for their safety and continued operation under Stravkos' protection."
My knees gave way. Nicholas caught me before I hit the floor, lifting me effortlessly and carrying me to the bed.
I was too shocked to resist, my mind racing to process this betrayal that went beyond anything I'd imagined.
"Why?" I asked, voice barely audible. "Why would you want me?"
Those golden eyes held mine, revealing nothing yet somehow everything.
"That," he said, "is the most interesting question of all."