Chapter 3 - The Golden Bird in an Iron Cage
The aftermath of that dinner changed everything in the Costa estate. Sadie was no longer invisible.
She could feel the eyes of the entire house on her at all times. The guards stationed at the perimeter watched her with a mixture of fear and newfound deference. Mrs. Gable no longer barked orders at her; instead, the older woman spoke to Sadie in hushed, nervous tones, treating her like a live grenade that could detonate at any moment.
Being noticed by the Don was a death sentence in the mafia. It meant you were a target for his enemies, a pawn for his rivals, and entirely at the mercy of his unpredictable whims.
Three days after the roses arrived, Sadie was summoned to the grand library on the second floor.
It was a room she had only ever entered to dust the towering walnut shelves. When she pushed open the heavy double doors, she found Roman standing by the arched panoramic window, looking out over the sprawling estate grounds and the gray Atlantic Ocean beyond.
He was holding a thick leather dossier in his large hands.
“Close the door, Sadie,” Roman commanded without turning around.
She stepped inside and let the latch click softly into place. “Sir. Mrs. Gable said you needed me.”
Roman turned around slowly. In the bright daylight filtering through the high glass, his features were even more striking—a rugged, aristocratic face carved with sharp angles, a faint scar running along his jawline, and dark eyes that seemed capable of seeing through steel.
He threw the dossier onto the heavy mahogany desk between them.
“What is this?” Sadie asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Your life,” Roman said simply.
He walked around the desk, stopping just inches from her, trapping her in his intoxicating aura of cedarwood, leather, and untamed power. He reached out, his warm, calloused fingers brushing against the side of her neck. Sadie gasped, her body freezing as his thumb traced the rapid flutter of her pulse beneath her pale skin.
“Sadie Miller,” Roman murmured, his voice low and hypnotic. “Twenty-four years old. Born in upstate New York. Father was a gambler who died owing five hundred thousand dollars to the Russian mob in Brighton Beach. You took this job three years ago under a fake surname to pay off his debts and disappear.”
Sadie felt all the blood drain from her face. Her knees trembled, and she had to grip the edge of the desk to keep from collapsing.
“You... you know,” she breathed, terror clawing at her throat. “You’re going to give me to the Russians.”
“Do you think so little of me?” Roman growled, his fingers moving upward to lightly cup her chin, forcing her head up until her wide, frightened blue eyes met his dark, possessive ones. “The Russians don’t own your debt anymore, Sadie. I bought it. Yesterday afternoon.”
Sadie stared at him in stunned disbelief. “You... what?”
“I wired five hundred thousand dollars to Moscow. Your father’s ledger is wiped clean. The men who were hunting your family are dead or looking for other work.” Roman leaned down until his breath stirred the loose strands of hair around her temple. “You don’t owe them a single penny. You owe me.”
“Why would you do that?” Sadie’s voice cracked with emotion, a mix of sheer relief and overwhelming dread tearing through her chest. “I’m just a maid! I clean your floors! I have nothing to give you!”
“Because I decided you are mine,” Roman whispered, his grip on her chin tightening just enough to emphasize his words. “You don’t belong in a basement room wearing rags. You don’t belong taking flowers from delivery boys who can’t even look you in the eye. Starting today, your quarters are on the second floor, next to mine.”
“No,” Sadie blurted out before she could stop herself.
The word hung in the air like a gunshot.
Roman’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous spark flashing in the dark depths. The temperature in the room plummeted. “No?”
Sadie swallowed hard, realizing her mistake, but the sheer desperation of a trapped animal took over. “Please, Mr. Costa. I just want to work. I want to pay my debts and leave. I don’t want to be part of this world. I don’t belong here.”
Roman let out a low, humorless laugh that sent shivers down her spine. He released her chin, only to step closer, boxing her against the massive mahogany desk.
“You think you have a choice, little bird?” Roman said, his voice dripping with dark amusement and unyielding authority. “The moment you stepped into this house, you entered my world. And I don’t let go of what’s mine. You will move your things to the master suite wing. You will wear the dresses I have bought for you. You will sit at my table.”
He leaned in so close his lips brushed the sensitive skin just below her ear. “And if you run, Sadie... I will tear this country apart piece by piece until I find you. Do you understand me?”
Sadie could only nod, tears of helplessness stinging the corners of her eyes.
“Good,” Roman whispered, his tone softening into something dangerously tender. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, snapping it open to reveal a magnificent diamond necklace with a blood-red ruby at its center.
Without waiting for her permission, he reached behind her neck and fastened the cold, heavy platinum chain around her throat. The ruby rested right above the collar of her cheap gray maid uniform—a dazzling symbol of ownership.
May you like
“Wear it tonight,” Roman ordered softly, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. “We have an uninvited guest arriving, and I want everyone to know who you belong to.”
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