Chapter 101: 101 ~ Mira
The next morning, I woke up with that familiar heaviness pressing against my chest.
The city outside hummed faintly, but inside, silence wrapped the house like a chokehold. This house had never been home. Not two years ago, not now. And yet here I was again. I was trapped, collared by Jace Romano’s obsession, pretending the walls weren’t suffocating me every second they kept me in.
Except this time, things were different. I wasn’t that naïve girl who let him bend me until I broke. I was stronger. Sharper. I had something to fight for beyond anger.
Revenge.
Massimo’s texts burned on my phone, tucked neatly under a fake app only I knew how to hide. He wanted that document. He wanted me to play my part.
And deep down, I wanted it too. Because if it was true that Jace’s father was the reason I had no family, then the Romanos deserved to crumble.
The faint knock on my door snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Come in," I said, already knowing who it was.
Of course it was him.
Jace leaned against the doorframe, impossibly put together for this early in the morning. Black shirt, tailored slacks, not a single hair out of place. He looked like sin carved into a man, and it made me furious that I noticed.
"Pack your things," he said simply.
I frowned. "Excuse me?"
His lips twitched like he enjoyed the look on my face. "We’re going back to LA. Tonight."
For a second, my breath stalled. LA. His new home ground. His kingdom. If New York was a cage, Los Angeles would be his fortress. If I hated being trapped here, what would it feel like there?
Still, I schooled my face, keeping my voice cool. "Why? Didn’t enjoy kidnapping me in this city enough?"
"Don’t tempt me to do it again," he said, stepping further inside. "New York was just the beginning. LA is where I want you. Where I can keep you close."
I scoffed. "You mean where you can keep me under lock and key without witnesses."
His gaze flicked to the half-open suitcase on the floor. Empty. Waiting. "Start packing, Mira. Or I’ll do it for you."
I didn’t move. I didn’t blink. I just folded my arms and tilted my chin high. "Go ahead. Fold my underwear too while you’re at it. I’d love to see you humbled."
For the first time, his lips curved into something resembling real amusement. But it didn’t reach his eyes. Those eyes stayed sharp, unreadable, the way they always did when he thought he’d already won.
Without another word, he turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.
And just like that, the air felt heavier again.
The flight was late that night.
We were finally returning to LA. I was somewhat relieved. It had been such a long week of being cooped up in the same house as Jace.
I was finally about to get my freedom again.
He didn’t give me a chance to resist even if it was forced. Of course he didn’t. When you were Jace Romano, resistance wasn’t a possibility. Men carried our luggage. Cars lined the driveway. His hand rested firmly at the small of my back as we walked to the jet, like he was both guiding me and branding me all over again.
"Keep your hand to yourself," I hissed under my breath.
"Too late," he said smoothly. "It’s already claiming what’s mine."
I ignored him, my heels clicking against the pavement as I climbed the steps to the jet.
Inside, luxury wrapped around me. The cream leather seats, mahogany tables, soft golden light. I hated how comfortable it all looked. Like he wanted to erase the idea of captivity by drowning it in wealth.
I sat far from him, sliding into a seat near the window, but of course he followed, sitting directly across from me.
The engines hummed to life. The jet lifted off, New York fading beneath us until it was just a sea of city lights swallowed by darkness.
I kept my eyes glued to the window. Anything to avoid looking at him.
Minutes stretched. Silence draped the cabin thick enough to choke on. Finally, I spoke.
"You can do what you like in LA, Jace, but it won’t change anything."
His voice came low, dangerous. "It changes everything. In LA, you’re mine completely. I’m not letting you go back to that apartment Massimo got you."
I let out a humorless laugh. "You keep repeating that like it’s supposed to hypnotize me. Newsflash - it doesn’t."
His gaze pinned me, unflinching. "It doesn’t have to hypnotize you. It’s the truth. I’ll say it over and over again until it sinks in."
I turned back to the window, heart pounding despite my resolve.
Truth. He spoke like he owned it, like he could shape it with his hands. But truth wasn’t his to wield. Not anymore.
Hours later, when the jet finally descended, LA sprawled beneath us like an endless kingdom of lights. My stomach tightened.
The car waiting for us at the private hangar was sleek, black, and intimidating. Very much like the man beside me.
The ride into the city was quiet. Too quiet. I kept my face blank, but my mind spun. Massimo was right. If the document wasn’t in New York, it had to be here. Jace’s stronghold. This was his home now so it just had to be.
Which meant if I played my cards right, I’d find it.
But first, I had to survive being under his roof again which I didn’t plan to do permanently.
But true to his word, Jace did not take me to my apartment.
The last thing I expected was for him to take me to a fancy penthouse apartment. I envisioned Jace as a man who would not live anywhere but a mansion but apparently I didn’t know him that much.
The car door opened, and Jace’s hand extended. I stared at it like it was a snake.
Then, with my head held high, I stepped out on my own.
The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped into his world.
The penthouse was everything I expected from Jace Romano and yet worse, because it was... beautiful. Not the kind of beauty you wanted to admire, but the kind that forced you to.
Floor to ceiling windows stretched across the entire length of the living room, spilling LA’s city lights into the space like diamonds scattered on velvet. At night, the skyline looked endless. It was cold, glittering and untouchable. Just like him.
Marble floors gleamed under soft recessed lights, smooth and spotless, like no one actually lived here. Everything was sharp edges and luxury black leather sofas positioned with military precision, glass tables with chrome bases, art pieces on the walls that probably cost more than my restaurants combined. The kind of art that wasn’t chosen for its meaning, but because it screamed money.
The air smelled faintly of expensive cologne and aged whiskey. Masculine. Possessive. Jace.
To the left, an open kitchen gleamed with stainless steel appliances that looked unused, like the only thing that had ever been prepared there was ice for his scotch. The counters were spotless, the bar stools lined perfectly like soldiers waiting for orders.
A grand staircase, spiraling up to the second level, drew my eyes. Of course his bedroom would be up there, overlooking the city like a king surveying his empire.
I hated that part of me admired it. Hated that my chest tightened at how untouchably perfect it all was.
Because it wasn’t a home. It was a fortress dressed as one. A penthouse designed not for comfort, but control. Every detail said power. Every surface screamed ownership.
And now, somehow, it was supposed to be mine too. Or at least that’s what he thinks.
I swallowed, refusing to let him see how much it struck me.
"Nice cage," I muttered under my breath, letting my fingers trail briefly across the cold marble of the counter before pulling them back. "Almost makes you forget it’s still a prison."
I hated that it still felt familiar.
"I’ll have a room prepared," he said casually, shrugging off his jacket as if this were just another night.
"Good. I need a lot of space" I said sharply. "Far from you."
He glanced over his shoulder, smirking. "Don’t worry. You’ll still hear me."
Heat rose in my cheeks, fury sparking in my veins. I marched past him, heading for the stairs, determined not to let him see that he could still get under my skin.
But when I reached my supposed room I paused. My suitcase was already there, unpacked neatly. Dresses hung in the closet. Perfumes lined the vanity. Everything laid out like I belonged here.
Like it was waiting for me.
I sat on the edge of the bed, trembling with a mix of rage and disbelief.
He thought he could trap me here again. Thought he could cage me with silk sheets and diamond chandeliers.
But I wasn’t the same Mira anymore.
And I swore to myself, right there in that gilded room, that I would find what Massimo wanted. That I would burn down everything Jace thought was his truth.
Even if it meant burning myself with it.
That night, as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, I heard footsteps outside. Slow. Heavy. Familiar.
He didn’t come in. Not this time. But he lingered. Long enough that I knew he was standing just outside my door.
And for the first time since the jet landed, a shiver ran through me.
Because I knew one thing with terrifying certainty.
Los Angeles was about to break me all over again.