Isabella had not awakened.
He stepped out, opened her door, and carefully lifted her into his arms.
She stirred slightly but remained asleep.
Dante carried her through the entrance of his mansion and walked straight to his personal bedroom.
The room was spacious and luxurious, with a large bed, elegant furniture, and tall windows covered by heavy curtains.
He gently laid Isabella on the bed.
For a few seconds, he simply stood there, watching her sleep.
Then he secured one of her hands to the bed frame with a handcuff.
Isabella did not wake.
She had no idea that her escape had ended before it had even begun.
Dante straightened and looked down at her.
“You wanted to run away from me,” he whispered. “Let's see how far you get now.”
He turned off the bedside light and slept next to her sleeping.
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains.
Isabella suddenly opened her eyes.
For a moment, she did not recognize the room.
Then she tried to sit up.
Something pulled at her wrist.
She looked down.
A handcuff was fastened around one of her hands, its other end secured to the bed frame.
Her eyes widened.
“What...?”
She pulled at it.
The metal refused to move.
“No! No!”
She began tugging harder, panic spreading through her body.
“Help! Somebody, help me!”
A calm voice interrupted her screams.
“Why are you screaming?”
Isabella stopped.
She slowly turned her head.
Dante was sitting on the sofa across from the bed, drinking a cup of tea in his nightdress as though he were enjoying an ordinary morning at home.
He looked at her with a faint, mocking smile.
“Good morning, Sweetheart. Did you sleep well in your new home?”
She stared at him in disbelief.
“Where am I?”
Dante took another sip of tea.
“Your new home.”
“Let me go!”
“Such a rude way to greet someone in the morning.”
“Dante!”
His smile widened slightly.
“Now you remember my name.”
Isabella pulled at the handcuff again.
Then she noticed something else.
She was no longer wearing the clothes she had worn the previous night. Instead, she was dressed in a new fancy nightdress.
Her face drained of colour.
“Who changed my clothes?”
Dante placed his teacup on the table.
“I did.”
She stared at him.
“You... what?”
“I removed your clothes and changed you into that nightdress.”
He leaned back against the sofa.
“I bought it for you myself.”
Isabella's face turned pale.
“You changed my clothes?”
“What? Did you expect me to call a maid?”
He glanced around the room.
“There are no maids here, Isabella. I acquired this mansion for us. Only for us.”
She looked at him as though he had lost his mind.
“For me?”
“Yes.” His expression hardened. “This is my home. And from today onward, it is your prison.”
He stood up and approached the bed.
“You are not going anywhere.”