Chapter 7 Bound By Desire

• The days blended into each other, each one feeling longer than the last. It had been three days since Marco had brought Sofia to the penthouse, and he had not shown his face since. The silence was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional footsteps outside the door.
• Sofia’s phone had been taken away, leaving her completely cut off from the outside world. There was no TV or radio in the room, so any news of what was happening beyond the walls was beyond her reach. She felt like she was floating in a void, trapped in a luxurious cage that was as beautiful as it was suffocating.
• Each morning, a female servant entered the room quietly, bringing trays of food and fulfilling Sofia’s basic needs. The woman was older, perhaps in her late forties, with kind eyes but an expression that revealed nothing. She was polite but distant, refusing to answer Sofia’s questions.
• “Where am I?” Sofia had asked on the first day, her voice hoarse with anxiety. “Where is Marco?”
• The woman had simply smiled, her eyes soft with a mix of pity and professionalism. “Eat, Miss Reyes,” she had said in accented English, setting the tray on the table by the window. “You need your strength.”
• Every day was the same—three meals brought in and taken away if left untouched, a knock at the door signaling the servant’s presence but no sign of Marco. Sofia’s emotions swung between frustration, fear, and a simmering anger that burned beneath her calm facade.
• On the night of the third day, the servant’s demeanor was different. She entered the room with a bright red dress draped over her arm, a pair of matching heels in one hand, and a jewelry box in the other.
• Sofia’s brows knitted together as she sat up on the bed. “What’s this?” she asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
• The servant smiled, this time with a touch of warmth. “Mr. Vitale asked me to bring this for you,” she said. “You are to wear it tonight. He will take you to dinner.”
• Sofia’s eyes widened. It wasn’t just the unexpected mention of dinner with Marco that startled her, but the dress itself. It was a deep, ruby red, the kind of color that screamed both elegance and danger. The fabric was silky, draping beautifully, with a high slit that suggested both sophistication and allure.
• The heels were delicate but high, clearly expensive, and designed to make a statement. But it was the necklace that truly caught Sofia’s attention—a dazzling diamond piece that glittered even in the dim light of the room. It was more than just a piece of jewelry; it was a symbol of wealth, power, and possession.
• Sofia’s throat tightened as she looked at the dress and accessories laid out before her. “Why does he want me to wear this?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
• The servant’s smile remained gentle but firm. “Mr. Vitale has his reasons, Miss Reyes,” she replied. “But I was also instructed to help you get ready. May I?”
• Sofia hesitated, torn between defiance and the realization that she had little choice in the matter. The idea of dressing up for Marco—of being made to look desirable for the man who had taken her—felt humiliating. And yet, there was a part of her that was curious, a part that wondered what Marco’s intentions were.
• “Fine,” she said finally, her voice resigned. “But I won’t make it easy for him.”
• The servant’s expression remained unchanged, but there was a hint of understanding in her eyes. She set the dress down gently on the bed, moving to open the small suitcase Sofia had brought with her the night she was taken.
• “Let’s start with your hair,” the woman suggested, motioning for Sofia to sit at the small vanity in the corner of the room. “Mr. Vitale prefers a certain style.”
• Sofia’s frustration flared at the words. “Is that so?” she muttered under her breath, but she sat down in front of the mirror, her reflection showing a mix of exhaustion and defiance.
• The servant’s hands were skilled, working through Sofia’s tangled hair with surprising gentleness. “You should relax, Miss Reyes,” she said softly. “Tension won’t do you any good.”
• Sofia glanced at the woman’s face in the mirror, searching for any hint of sympathy or understanding. “What’s your name?” she asked suddenly, desperate for some semblance of normalcy.
• The woman paused briefly before answering. “Anna,” she said simply. “Just Anna.”
• Sofia nodded, feeling a small sense of relief at having something—anything—to grasp onto. “Anna… why do you work for him? For Marco?”
• Anna’s hands paused again, just for a second. “It is not my place to question Mr. Vitale’s actions,” she replied carefully. “I do what is required of me, just as you will.”
• Sofia’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I never chose to be here,” she said quietly, her voice filled with both anger and vulnerability.
• Anna’s expression softened, but her words were still measured. “No one ever does,” she said, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. “But we adapt. It’s how we survive.”
• The words struck Sofia harder than she expected, a cold truth that seemed to resonate deep within her. She wanted to argue, to fight against the idea that she had to accept her situation, but a part of her knew that survival sometimes meant compromise.
• Anna’s hands moved to Sofia’s face, applying makeup with practiced skill. Sofia closed her eyes, letting the gentle brush strokes calm her nerves, even if only temporarily. The room was silent, save for the soft rustling of fabric and the faint sound of Anna’s breathing.
• As Anna worked, Sofia’s thoughts drifted to the man she was preparing to meet. Marco’s presence had been both terrifying and magnetic, a mix of power and darkness that made her skin crawl and her heart race. The way he looked at her, as if she were both a challenge and a prize, unsettled her in ways she couldn’t fully understand.
• But beneath the fear, there was a flicker of something else—a forbidden curiosity, a twisted allure that she despised but couldn’t completely deny. It was as if Marco’s raw power had a way of reaching into the darkest corners of her mind, stirring emotions she never knew existed.
• “Are you ready to put on the dress, Miss Reyes?” Anna asked gently, breaking Sofia’s train of thought.
• Sofia opened her eyes, seeing her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was styled in soft waves, framing her face in a way that accentuated her features. The makeup was elegant, enhancing her natural beauty without being overly dramatic. She looked… different. Not the girl who had stumbled into a dangerous world, but someone who could belong to it.
• “Yes,” she said quietly, a mix of determination and dread in her voice. “Let’s do this.”
• Anna picked up the red dress, holding it out for Sofia to step into. As she helped Sofia fasten the zipper, there was a strange intimacy in the act, a silent acknowledgment of the twisted reality they both existed in.
• Sofia took a deep breath, feeling the soft fabric against her skin. It was luxurious, almost sinful, and it fit her perfectly, hugging her curves in a way that was both elegant and provocative. She glanced at herself in the mirror, a wave of conflicting emotions washing over her.
• “It suits you,” Anna said, her voice quiet but genuine. “You look… powerful.”
• Sofia’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Is that what he wants?” she asked, her tone bitter. “To make me look like one of them?”
• Anna didn’t answer, but there was a hint of something in her eyes—something that Sofia couldn’t quite decipher.
• And as she adjusted the diamond necklace around her neck, Sofia felt the weight of the evening ahead settle over her like a shroud.