Chapter 8 —And There Was No Going Back Now

• Tony’s day had gone from bad to worse. After a long morning of interrogations, plotting, and general brooding, he found himself in a predicament he hadn’t expected—carrying an unconscious Marissa out of the damp cell where she’d been kept for far too long.
• Her face was pale, her breathing shallow, and her usually fiery eyes were closed. For someone who was supposed to be a mere pawn in his father’s grand scheme, Marissa was causing far more trouble than Tony cared to admit.
• “Why do I even bother?” Tony muttered under his breath, carefully adjusting Marissa’s limp body in his arms. He tried to ignore the unsettling mix of pity and irritation boiling inside him.
• This girl was either the most stubborn person he’d ever met or a fantastic actress. But whether she was truly innocent or a master manipulator, Marissa needed medical attention—much to Tony’s annoyance.
• As Tony trudged through the ornate hallways of the mansion, Marissa’s head resting awkwardly on his shoulder, he did his best to avoid making eye contact with the various house staff who watched him with poorly disguised curiosity. Unfortunately, fate had other plans.
• “Ah, my dear son, parading your damsel through the halls again, I see.” The silky voice of Antonio, Tony’s father, drifted over from the grand staircase. Antonio leaned casually against the banister, a glass of whiskey in one hand and an infuriating smirk plastered across his face.
• Tony bristled instantly. Antonio was the last person he wanted to see right now. “I’m not parading anything, Dad. She’s just…not well.”
• Antonio’s grin widened, and he sauntered over, eyeing Marissa’s unconscious form with a look of exaggerated concern. “Not well, you say? I wonder why that might be. Perhaps because someone has been locking her up in a basement?”
• Tony tightened his grip on Marissa, resisting the urge to snap back. “I’m getting her medical attention, alright? Can we skip the lecture?”
• Antonio ignored him, circling his son like a shark that smelled blood. “You know, Tony, you’re a lot like me at your age. Stubborn, hot-headed, and easily tangled up with pretty little things that are more trouble than they’re worth.” He glanced at Marissa. “Except, of course, this one seems to have really gotten under your skin.”
• Tony’s jaw clenched. “She’s a prisoner, not my girlfriend.”
• Antonio’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Prisoner, girlfriend, what’s the difference these days? You’re carrying her like a princess in a fairy tale.”
• Before Tony could fire back, Marissa stirred slightly in his arms, her head lolling against his chest. Antonio’s grin only grew. “Ah, look, she’s swooning already. You’ve got quite the effect on her, my boy.”
• “Enough,” Tony growled, shooting his father a glare that could melt steel. “I’m taking her to the doctor, and then I’m dropping her back in her cell where she belongs.”
• Antonio raised an eyebrow. “Oh, sure, sure. That’s exactly what a man does when he has no feelings for a woman—rescues her, cradles her like she’s made of porcelain, and makes sure she gets the best care. Very cold-hearted of you, Tony.”
• Tony felt his face flush with frustration. “Just stay out of it, Dad.”
• —
• Tony finally managed to get Marissa to the mansion’s in-house doctor, who examined her with the kind of detached professionalism that Tony wished he could muster himself. Tony stood in the corner, arms crossed, trying not to look too concerned as the doctor took Marissa’s vitals and checked her over.
• “Well,” the doctor began, looking up from his stethoscope with a bemused expression, “she’s severely dehydrated, undernourished, and suffering from high stress levels. If you keep treating her like this, she’s not going to last much longer.”
• Tony grumbled something unintelligible and looked away, trying to avoid the doctor’s judgmental gaze. “Just do what you can.”
• The doctor sighed, shaking his head. “She needs rest, fluids, and proper meals. This isn’t the medieval era, Tony—you can’t just throw someone in a cell and expect them to survive on bread and water.”
• Tony gave a reluctant nod, though his thoughts were elsewhere. This whole ordeal was becoming more complicated than he’d anticipated. He thought he could handle Marissa as just another asset, but every time he tried to put her in a box, she managed to crawl out and surprise him.
• —
• While Tony tried to distract himself with paperwork, Antonio wasn’t about to let his son off the hook. He strolled into Tony’s office uninvited, as usual, plopping down in a leather chair and kicking his feet up on the desk. “So, how’s the princess doing? You got her some nice, fluffy pillows and a five-star meal yet?”
• Tony shot him a glare. “Can’t you find someone else to bother?”
• Antonio laughed, a deep, throaty sound that echoed through the office. “Oh, Tony. You’re so easy to rile up. It’s almost too much fun. But seriously, you’re playing a dangerous game with this one.”
• “I’m not playing any games,” Tony snapped. “She’s just another problem to deal with. Nothing more.”
• Antonio leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You keep telling yourself that, son. But every time I see you with her, it’s like watching a bad romance novel unfold. You’re practically tripping over yourself trying to keep her alive.”
• Tony felt his temper flare. “I’m doing what’s necessary. That’s all.”
• “Necessary?” Antonio echoed, feigning shock. “Is that what they’re calling it these days? Because it looks an awful lot like you’re playing knight in shining armor. Next thing you know, you’ll be writing poetry and picking out wedding rings.”
• Tony slammed a stack of papers onto his desk. “She’s a liability, not a love interest.”
• Antonio’s laughter only grew louder. “Keep telling yourself that, Tony. But don’t be surprised when you find yourself planning a honeymoon.”
• —
• As the day went on, Tony found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything other than Marissa. She was recovering slowly, but the more time Tony spent near her, the more conflicted he felt.
• He hated how she seemed to be getting under his skin, how every sharp word she spoke clung to him long after he’d left her room. He was supposed to be in control, yet every time he saw her, he felt that control slipping.
• One evening, while Tony was staring blankly at his computer screen, Antonio barged in again, holding a bouquet of roses in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. “I brought you some props for your grand declaration of love. I figured you’d need them soon.”
• Tony rolled his eyes, his patience wearing thin. “Dad, I swear, if you don’t—”
• “Oh, relax, Tony,” Antonio interrupted, tossing the roses onto the desk. “I’m just preparing for the inevitable. You’re halfway to a rom-com, whether you admit it or not.”
• Tony shoved the flowers aside. “This isn’t funny.”
• “Of course it is!” Antonio said, popping the champagne with a loud *pop* and pouring himself a glass. “Watching you fumble around like a teenager with his first crush—it’s hilarious. But hey, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you really do just want to keep her locked up forever.”
• Tony threw his hands up in exasperation. “What do you want from me, Dad? You want me to admit I care about her? Fine! She’s different, okay? But that doesn’t mean anything. She’s still just a… a…”
• “A girl who’s got you wrapped around her little finger,” Antonio finished, sipping his champagne smugly. “And don’t act so surprised. We all knew it would happen sooner or later.”
• Tony slumped back in his chair, glaring at the ceiling as if it might offer some sort of escape from this relentless torment. “You’re impossible.”
• “And you’re in love,” Antonio sang, raising his glass in a mocking toast. “Welcome to the club.”
• —
• That night, Tony found himself standing outside Marissa’s room, conflicted as ever. He could hear her soft breathing from inside, a sound that was both infuriatingly peaceful and maddeningly comforting.
• What was it about her that made everything so damn complicated?
• He pushed the door open quietly, just to check on her one last time. Marissa was awake, propped up on a stack of pillows and sipping water from a cup. She looked up when he entered, her expression wary but curious.
• “What do you want now?” she asked, her voice hoarse but defiant.
• Tony hesitated, then shrugged awkwardly. “Just… making sure you’re not dead.”
• Marissa smirked. “You really are terrible at this whole villain thing, you know.”
• Tony rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. “Yeah, well… maybe I’m just having an off week.”
• Marissa rolled her eyes but didn’t push him away.
• For a moment, they sat in silence, two people caught in a bizarre, twisted dance neither fully understood.
• And as Tony watched her drift back to sleep, he realized with a sinking feeling that Antonio might just be right.
• Tony was in way over his head—and there was no going back now.