The north wing of the Vitale estate was a beautiful tomb. Julian paced the length of his new quarters—a room that felt more like a museum than a bedroom. Every inch of the space was curated perfection: gold-leafed mirrors, velvet drapes the color of dried blood, and a balcony that looked out over the jagged Sicilian cliffs and the churning Tyrrhenian Sea far below.
He was 5'2", and everything in this house was built for giants. The heavy oak door was locked from the outside, and the windows, though offering a breathtaking view, were reinforced with decorative wrought iron that Julian knew wasn't just for show.
By the time the sun began to dip, casting long, bruised shadows across the marble floor, the lock finally clicked.
Dante Vitale entered, and the room immediately felt smaller. He had discarded his suit jacket, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar and sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle and ink. He looked less like a businessman and more like the predator Julian knew he was.
"You haven't touched the food," Dante noted, his voice a low vibration that seemed to rattle the very air in Julian's lungs. He gestured to a silver tray left by a servant earlier—Caponataand fresh bread that Julian had been too terrified to taste.
"I'm not a pet," Julian snapped, though his voice wavered. He tried to stand tall, but even on his tip-toes, he barely reached Dante's chest. "You can't just keep me here. I have a life. I have classes."
Dante crossed the room in two strides, a sudden movement that made Julian's heart skip a beat. He didn't stop until he was looming directly over the younger man, the 14-inch height difference forcing Julian to look up at a sharp, dizzying angle.
"Your old life ended the moment you pointed your lens at my business," Dante said, reaching out to catch a lock of Julian's pale hair between his fingers. His touch was light, but the threat behind it was heavy. "In Sicily, we have a saying: Cu' è surdu, orbu e taci, campa cent'anni 'mpaci.He who is deaf, blind, and silent lives a hundred years in peace. You failed all three."
"So what? You're going to kill me?" Julian's eyes filled with hot, defiant tears.
Dante leaned down, his face inches from Julian's. He could see the gold flecks in the student's blue eyes, the way his pulse thrummed in the hollow of his throat.
"Killing you would be easy, tesoro," Dante whispered, his breath warm against Julian's ear. "You'll stay here. You'll eat. And you will learn that in this house, my word is the only law you answer to."
Dante pulled away, his grey eyes lingering on Julian before he turned toward the door.
"Tonight, we dine together," Dante commanded, not looking back. "Dress in what I've laid out for you. If you aren't ready by eight, I'll come back."
The door slammed shut, the heavy thud of the deadbolt echoing through the room like a gavel. Julian looked toward the bed, where a suit of fine black silk lay waiting—a shadow waiting to consume him.