THE KILLER THAT CLAIMED (A dark, mafia romance)

The isolation of the past two weeks had been a slow, agonizing erosion of my spirit. The guest unit, that's if you could even call it that, was nothing but a reinforced, luxury suite with bolted windows. This so called "guest unit" had become my entire world. I had memorized every grain in the oak flooring and every shadow that crawled across the ceiling at night. Boring activity but there was very little to do. I wasn't even allowed to interact with anyone else who wasn't Bane and I HATED interacting with Bane. The guards had come for me that morning with a set of orders from their boss. I was being moved to the main house.  Why? I had no idea.  As they walked by me across the meticulously manicured grounds of the Valak estate, the sheer scale of Bane's world finally hit me. The main house dominated the very space it occupied.  It was a fortress of marble and glass, a monument to a man who didn't just want to live.  He was a king and he wanted everyone to remember his reign. My heart hammered. Moving to the main house meant I was no longer a prisoner being "vetted."  I was being integrated into this monster's world. I was being branded as his. The doors to the main foyer swung open, and I was greeted by a blast of chilled air and the scent of expensive lilies. "This way, Miss Vancouver," one of the men muttered. I followed him up a sweeping staircase that felt like it belonged in a palace. My legs felt weak, the silk of my dress rustling against my legs with every trembling step. We stopped in front of a double-door suite in the east wing.  When the guard pushed them open, I gasped.  It was beautiful. Unbelievably so. The room was bathed in soft creams and golds, with a balcony that overlooked the Roman skyline in the distance. It was a room designed for a princess, just like Bane had labeled me. This was just another fancy prison. "Your staff are waiting over here for you," the guard said, stepping aside. Three women stood in a neat row near the walk-in closet. They looked up as I entered, their expressions a mixture of professional neutrality and guarded curiosity. "Good day, Miss Amaya. I am Elena," the oldest of the three said, stepping forward. She had grey hair pulled into a bun so tight it seemed to pull the skin of her forehead smooth. "I am the head of your domestic staff. These," she gestured to two younger staff members, "are Maria and Sofia. They will handle your wardrobe, your meals, and your personal needs." I stood there, unsure of what to say.  "I... I don't need all this," I whispered, my voice sounding thin.  "Mr. Valak insists," Elena replied, her tone leaving no room for argument. "He has reached out to several designers. Your wardrobe will be updated weekly. You are to be ready for dinner by seven each evening. Mr. Valak does not like to be kept waiting."  I remembered rule number three in that moment. Always appear presentable.  "Understood," I said, my throat dry. The women began to move with a practiced efficiency that I had only seen back in my father's mansion. Maria began unpacking the few things I had brought from the isolation unit, while Sofia started drawing a bath in the ensuite, the sound of rushing water echoing off the marble walls.  They didn't talk to me; they had more important things to handle and all I had to do was get out of their way.   I sat on the edge of the massive bed, the velvet duvet feeling unnervingly soft. I was settling into a routine that wasn't mine.  I was not meant to be here.Even now, my mind kept thinking of ways I could escape.  An hour passed in a blur of steam, scented oils, and the silent, judging eyes of my new attendants.  They had dressed me in a tea-length dress of pale lavender, the fabric so light it felt like a second skin.  They had brushed my hair until it shone like spun silver and applied just enough makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes.  When they finally left I walked over to the window, looking out at the gardens.  I could see guards patrolling the perimeter, their weapons glinting in the Italian sun.  Bane's voice echoed in my head; "No leaving the premises."  I turned away from the window, feeling the familiar prickle of tears.  I couldn't do this.  I couldn't just sit here and wait to be summoned like a pet.  Suddenly, the heavy door to my suite creaked open.  I stiffened, expecting Elena or perhaps Bane himself.  I stood up, my hands clasping together in front of my stomach, bracing for whatever command was coming next.  But it wasn't Bane. A woman walked in, and for a moment, the air in the room seemed to move in her direction.  She was a striking woman.  Tall and athletic, with the kind of commanding presence that reminded me of Bane.  She looked like an Amazon stepped out of a myth, her skin a warm bronze and her hair that was a vibrant, fiery red that cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall of flames.  She had a handsome face.  She wasn't dressed like the staff. She wore a sleek, tailored suit that looked quite expensive.  She was wearing a wide, genuine smile.  It was the first warm thing I had seen in weeks.  She closed the door behind her, her eyes scanning me from head to toe.  There was no judgment in her gaze, only a deep, vibrating curiosity.  "Well," she said, her voice rich and melodic, carrying a hint of a laugh. "He certainly has a type, doesn't he?"  I blinked, taken aback.  "I... I'm sorry?"  She laughed then and started walking toward me, her stride confident and long.  As she got closer, I noticed the faint family resemblance in the structure of her jaw and the intensity of her eyes.  It was a softened, more vibrant version of the darkness that lived in Bane.  She didn't look at me like I was a prisoner or a victim.  She looked at me the way a child would at an interesting jigsaw puzzle.  She tilted her head, a lock of red hair falling over her shoulder.  Her smile widened, showing white, even teeth.  "You must be Amaya," she said, her voice warm, "It's so nice to finally meet you. My name's Regina Valak"