Dangerous Minds

07

ALEJANDRO

I'm resolute: no one steals from me without consequences. Today, I'll ensure Ella Gibson faces the repercussions of her actions. I descend to the basement, where she's been held since yesterday. Though I could lock her up, I choose not to; she'll remain here, confined but not mistreated.

As I enter, she's awake, avoiding eye contact. 'Good morning, criminal,' I say with a smile, but she ignores me. My patience wears thin; I repeat, louder, 'I said good morning, criminal!'

Her defiance fuels my frustration. She stole from my brother and tried to deceive me. I need to break her confidence.

I stand before her, silent, until she finally looks up. Her eyes blaze with anger and pain. 'My name is not criminal, you asshole. I'm Ella Gibson,' she spits.

I chuckle, intrigued by her ferocity. 'Isn't Ella Gibson synonymous with criminal?' I taunt.

Her response is swift and venomous: 'Fuck you."

"Day one of your punishment has begun, Ella," I declare, my voice firm. "Choose your consequence wisely."

Her smile hints at defiance. "Really, Mr. Valentin? You think I'm intimidated?"

"Amused, perhaps?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Far beyond amusement," she retorts, her confidence unwavering.

I grip her hand firmly, leading her to the bathroom. Her subtle winces betray her tough exterior.

Inside, I release her, and she stumbles, her disheveled appearance a testament to her overnight confinement. "Shower. You reek of decay. Clean up, or you'll remain a mess."

I exit, instructing my butler, "Guard her. If she escapes, you'll regret it."

"No, sir," he responds, understanding the warning.

As I pour myself a whisky, Marcus approaches. "Where is she?"

I sidestep his question. "Greetings, Marcus. Care to explain your sudden interest?"

"Cut the games, Alejandro. I need to see her, ensure she's safe."

"My trust in you is shaken, Marcus. Your actions nearly cost her life."

Marcus's determination is palpable, but I remain cautious.

"I'm not planning to harm her, please let me see her," Marcus requests.

I shake my head firmly. "Not now. She's my responsibility."

Marcus's eyes narrow. "Why?"

"She hacked my location, surveilled me. I was her next target after you. Leave her to me."

Marcus's astonishment is palpable. "What is she, a ghost?"

I shrug. "If she robbed me, Anderson would be next. Maybe."

My attention shifts as one of my men interrupts, "Boss, Lucas is here."

The commotion outside grows louder; Lucas is fighting to gain entry.

Marcus raises an eyebrow. "Who is that?"

I wave dismissively. "No one important."

Lucas's demands echo through the hallway: "Let me go! I want her back! He knows what I want!"

I signal my man to escort Lucas in.

As Marcus exits, he remarks, "Billionaire trouble in paradise. I'll catch up with you later. Remember, don't harm her; she's beautiful."

I retort dryly, "Do you ever sleep, considering how obsessed you are with her?"

Marcus shrugs and departs.

I lean against my whisky collection counter, awaiting Lucas's arrival with a mix of annoyance and anticipation.

Fuck him.

Lucas stands before me, chest heaving from his altercation with my butlers. His sweat-drenched blue shirt clings to his frame.

"What do you—"

He interrupts, his voice laced with desperation. "Where's my sister, you filthy coward?"

I raise an eyebrow, incredulous. "Do I have her locked away? Did I swallow her whole?"

Lucas's eyes blaze. "Alejandro, I know she lived with you. She's just a child. Where is she?"

I lean against the counter, hands clasped, my gaze piercing with anger.

Lucas takes a deep breath, composing himself. "Look, man, we go way back. Money changes people, but some things are worth more. Bring my sister home."

I down my last whisky, my voice dripping venom. "Even if I considered finding her, I'd keep her for myself. Maybe, just maybe, I'd return her to her family."

Lucas opens his mouth to protest, but I signal my man to escort him out.

As he's dragged away, I'm consumed by a familiar rage. My past, once tainted by love and vulnerability, is best left buried. Lucas's persistence threatens to unearth emotions I've long suppressed.

"I hate her," I seethe, the words echoing within me. "I hate her life, her existence. She's poison."

My whisky glass shatters on the floor, a testament to the turmoil brewing inside.

I hurl the bottle to the ground, the shards of glass splintering outward like my fractured calm. "Damn it!" I bellow, my anger and exasperation tearing free.

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