Chapter 9 The mansion
The cars slowed as we reached the gates. They were tall, black, and lined with sharp spikes that seemed to stab at the sky.
It was already late into the day and I wondered just how long we’d been flying in the air. A part of me was astounded by how meticulated the plan was.
The gates didn't open right away. For a moment, everything went still, as if even the evening was waiting for permission to move.
Then, slowly, the iron doors swung wide, letting us in. What stood before me stole my breath.
I'd grown up in luxury too, but this... this was something else entirely.
The mansion looked like something out of a dark gothic movie with the impressive architecture and dome shaped roof.
Was it possible to hate the owner and still love the house?
Guards lined the driveway like statues, their eyes sharp, and hands never straying far from the weapons holstered at their sides.
I shrank back into my corner of the car. Back home, we had guards too but this was different. These men weren't just protecting a home, they were defending a a legacy.
I pressed my lips together, thoughts racing faster than the tires crunching gravel beneath us. Who lived like this? Who needed this?
Of course… Who was I kidding?
Nobody but Giovanni De Santis would.
The cars stopped at the grand steps and cold air rushed in as the door opened. I stepped out, my heels clicking against marble, my dress catching in the breeze.
For a heartbeat, I let myself imagine running past the iron gates, vanishing into the dark.
But the men at every corner killed that thought before it was born. There was no escape. Not from this place or from him.
Enzo hopped out first, stretching like it was nothing. "Home sweet home," he muttered with a grin.
I didn't answer. My eyes stayed fixed on the mansion towering over us, its shadows swallowing me whole.
Finally, Giovanni stepped out and the men straightened as he passed, their gazes lowered, in submission.
None of them said a word, but I could catch their gazes flick towards me. But Giovanni never looked, not even once.
Still, I followed. What choice did I have?
The heavy doors opened, and I stepped into the house.
The first thing that hit me was the silence, it was the kind that made your skin prickle.
Dark marble floors stretched beneath my feet, and above me, crystal chandeliers poured golden light across the vast hall, but it mixed with shadows from the black décor.
Nothing in this house was soft, not even the light.
Black marble pillars rose against gold frames and heavy curtains draped the windows like shadows.
My heels clicked softly against the marble as we walked deeper. Along the hallway, artwork of different paintings caught my eye, all of them as dark and twisted as the owner.
Enzo whistled low, hands in his pockets. "Still creepy as hell in here," he muttered, more amused than unsettled.
I wanted to ask how he could be so calm, but the words stuck in my throat.
We turned another corner, and the air shifted. The hall was darker here, until a set of double doors opened into a room that swallowed light whole.
Giovanni's office.
He walked ahead, stopping behind the desk but not sitting. His gaze slid toward me and I stiffened.
I tore my eyes away and studied the room instead.
The walls were lined with shelves that held both books and blades, even ancient relics.
Giovanni's taste was no doubt expensive but it was intimidating too.
His voice finally came, "Sit."
It was just one word, but the command was heavy. My legs moved before my mind could protest, carrying me toward one of the black leather chairs facing his desk.
The cushion gave under me, but the chill in the room remained.
Giovanni sat at last, and only then did the guards near the door shift. They filed out of the room one by one, including Enzo, and only two of us remained.
I clasped my hands in my lap, and tried not to stare at him, but my eyes roamed the room again.
Giovanni just sat there, one hand resting lightly against the armrest, watching me.
The silence dragged until I thought I might choke on it.
"You like my office?" His voice was a low timbre. He asked it in a way that sounded like there was only one right answer.
My throat tightened. I swallowed, forcing the words out. "It's... beautiful."
A hint of a smile touched his mouth. "Beautiful," he repeated, leaning back in his chair.
His eyes never left mine, and the intensity of his gaze made something in my stomach tighten. "Beauty isn't free, Arya. Every piece in this room was bought with something." His gaze sharpened, pinning me in place. "Do you understand that?"
My palms grew damp against my lap and I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I truly did.
But the way he looked at me told me that sooner or later, I would.
"Do you truly understand that?" He stood slowly, and walked around the desk with predatory grace. "Because right now, you're one of those pieces."
My breath caught as he stopped in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
His smile was dark, and knowing. I finally decided to ask the question I’d been dying to since we came down from the jet.
“Tell me the truth, Giovanni.” The name rolled out of my tongue with surprising ease. “Why did you bring me here?”