Chapter 7 BREAKFAST WITH THE DON
JASMINE’S POV:
I couldn’t sleep even after the door to my room had closed.
The bed was soft. I wrapped myself in silk sheets as I stared up at the ceiling, staring into nothingness. My body was exhausted, but my mind refused to follow.
La Prescelta.
The word kept on echoing in my head. I couldn’t have been mistaken. I couldn’t be.
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening in the sheets.
That title wasn’t something you tossed around lightly. Not in that world, nor among men like Moretti.
I knew what it meant. Anyone with even a passing familiarity with the underworld knew. La Prescelta wasn’t a mistress. It wasn’t a whore nor a casual indulgence. She was chosen and claimed publicly and privately. A woman marked as belonging to a Don, protected with violence, envied with resentment, and targeted with blood.
She was a symbol, a weakness. A declaration of intent.
So why would he choose me? Out of millions of women, models, socialites, daughters of powerful families…why me?
My chest tightened. It didn’t make sense. I was no one in his world. Only a supermodel who made one reckless mistake. One impulsive kiss driven by anger and confusion and too many emotions colliding at once.
A kiss shouldn’t cost me my life.
I turned onto my side, gazing out the window. I thought about calling someone. Anyone. My fingers twitched with instinct, already imagining the sound of my best friends’ voices grounding me, reminding me who I was before all of this.
But I couldn’t. And I wouldn’t. Because pulling them into this world, even unknowingly, would be signing their death warrants. This house, this cage, existed because I’d chosen to protect them. Because disappearing was safer than dragging them down with me.
So I told myself that I would wait. That I would endure until the coast was clear. Only then would I reclaim my life.
That thought steadied me enough so that I could bring myself to sleep finally.
I didn’t know how much I had slept, but when I opened my eyes again, light poured all over the room. Soft and golden.
I blinked, momentarily disoriented, before noticing the woman standing by my bedside.
She wore a modest black uniform with her hands clasped respectfully in front of her. Her eyes lifted when she noticed I was awake.
“Good morning, Miss,” she said gently.
I pushed myself up. “Who are you?”
“Ana,” she replied. “I’m here to assist you.”
Assist? Of course.
Before I could ask anything else, she moved, laying out clothes on the bed. My breath caught.
The dress was stunning; a dark emerald silk that hugged my curves and dipped in all the wrong places, with a daring neckline and a high slit. Elegant yet revealing at the same time.
“You’re to wear this,” Ana said calmly.
“For what?” I asked.
She hesitated only briefly. “You are to have breakfast with my Master.”
My stomach dropped.
I didn’t argue. Because I’d already learnt that arguing here was pointless.
I dressed in silence, letting Ana fasten the delicate clasps, brushed my hair back, and slipped the shoes onto my feet. When she stepped aside, I met my reflection, and I could barely recognize myself.
"You look really beautiful, Miss," Ana said, face down as if she expected me to snap at her.
“I look… curated,” I mumbled, more to myself than her.
With a sigh, I turned and made my way out of the room and down to the dining hall.
It was massive, all dark wood and polished stone. Sunlight flooded through the tall windows, illuminating the space as servants moved quietly around the long table, setting plates of food that looked more like art than meals.
I sat and waited. Minutes passed. Ten. Maybe more. Then the doors opened.
Moretti entered.
He wore a crisp tailored black suit, though his tie was loosened and his dark hair was slightly dishevelled. He looked… dangerously tired.
My eyes were drawn to the dark red stain on his white collar.
Blood.
“What happened?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He lifted his eyes to mine, a slow smile spreading across his lips.
“Business.”
He took his seat across from me, unbothered, as servants poured coffee and retreated.
We sat in thick and uncomfortable silence. But in that silence, he watched me.
I forced myself to pick up my fork, cutting into the steak placed before me. The act of eating felt surreal, but I was hungry all the same.
“You’re being compliant,” he observed.
I shrugged, taking a bite. “Well, for one, I’m stuck in God-knows-where with no one except your men and maids. I have no free will. No internet. No outside contact. Only the heavens know if the media has started a search for me.”
I swallowed, meeting his gaze steadily.
“And you’ve titled me as your La Prescelta. I don’t know what that means entirely, but I do know this.” My voice hardened. “You could kill me, and no one would ever know. So yes. I’m at your mercy. Why wouldn’t I be compliant?”
He stared at me for a long moment.
“You were targeted for death,” he said finally. “I saved you.”
Nice one, Sherlock. He wanted to play the hero.
A bitter laugh escaped me. “It’s because of you that I was targeted.”
His eyes darkened.
“You kissed me.”
My hands flew into the air, making my fork clatter loudly against the table and skidding away.
“Oh, don’t you dare,” I snapped, anger written all over my face. “If I’d known a reckless kiss would destroy my life, I would’ve kissed a frog instead; at least then the fairy tale would make sense.”
I continued, bitter and sharp. “I kissed you because I was angry, confused, and overwhelmed. Not because I wanted this.”
Without warning, Nikolai slammed his fist down with enough force to rattle the plates.
I froze.
He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. When he opened them again, the amusement was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous. One I couldn’t decipher.
“Go to your room,” he said, his voice cold and resolute. “NOW.”
Fear shot through me, fast and merciless.
I didn’t argue with him. I just stood quickly and rushed back to my room, the sound of my footsteps echoing.
The door shut behind me with a soft click. And I slid down against it, breathing hard.
What just happened?
The image of his eyes played in my mind, rendering my body useless with fear.
I thought I had seen every part of Moretti, but this… this scared me.