"You’ll keep your ears and eyes open. You’ll make that husband of yours love you and trust you, and then you’ll report everything back to me."
I freeze. He isn’t letting me go. He’s embedding me deeper.
"And you’ll please him," he adds, his voice a hiss now, hot and venomous. "In public. In private. In and out of bed. Or you’ll answer to me."
My stomach twists, but my face remains a mask—pale silk and silent. I know better than to show fear. Deep down, though, I know that I won't do any of these things.He can't force me back to him once I'm Roberto's. He can't force me to do anything.
Something like hope swells inside my chest. It’s small. Fragile. But it’s there. From what I’ve gotten to know of Roberto, he’s not like them. He’s ambitious, yes. Calculating, sure. But cruel? No. Not in the way my father and Angelo are. There’s a line in him he doesn’t cross, and maybe that’s naïve, but I’ve spent my life with monsters. I know the difference between cold and evil.
And I’m almost certain—almost—that if I told him what my father expects… he’d protect me if I tell him the truth. Not today. Not here. Not with the weight of my father’s eyes burning into the back of my skull. But one day. When it’s quiet. When we’re alone. I’ll tell him everything. I’m done being silent. Done being a pawn. If this marriage is the only exit I’m getting, then I’m going to use it.
Fully.
My father reaches for the door handle. "You’ll remember your place, Sophia."
I nod. "Yes, Papa."
But in my mind, the words shift.You’ll remember mine.Right now, I'm Carlos Orsi's daughter, but in a few minutes, I'm going to be Mrs. Roberto Giordano. One day, I'll be his queen, and in between, I'm most definitely not going to be my father's pawn.
My father opens the door, and we step out into the hall as the music swells, echoing up the marble stairwell. My heart beats once—twice—then calms. I take his arm and walk with him down the steps and into the light. Cameras flash. People stand. Faces blur.
And there, at the end of the aisle, is Roberto.
Waiting.
Steady.
Smiling.
He doesn’t look like a hero. He doesn’t look like the man I once prayed for. But he looks safe. And sometimes, safe is enough.
Still… as we walk, something pricks the back of my neck. A pulse of heat. A flicker. Like a warning. It's in the glint in Roberto's eyes. A flash, there and gone so fast I almost think I imagined it. I haven’t seen that glint before. Not in all the months of gentle smiles and polite conversation. Not in the way he touched my hand or asked me about my favorite books.
This look is… sharper.
Hungrier.
And then it’s gone, smoothed over by charm and ceremony. The mask is back in place so neatly I almost call myself silly for noticing at all. Almost.
But the prickling under my skin doesn’t stop. Not when we stand before the priest and say our vows. Not when I say "I do" and hear itechoed back to me. Not even when the room erupts in applause and rose petals fall like confetti around us.
Roberto’s hand is firm on my lower back as we walk among the guests. It stays there through the endless congratulations, the toasts, the kisses on both cheeks. But the longer it lingers, the more I notice it’s not just a touch. It’s a hold.
A grip.
One that tightens just a little too much when no one’s watching. Not painful. Not quite. Just enough to remind me that I belong to him now. The touch makes my stomach flutter, and not in the way it’s supposed to. Not in excitement. Not in nerves. Something darker. A kind of… an unease I can’t name. Something primal whispering that something isn’t right.
I glance around, half-expecting—half-hoping—to see Raffael standing in the shadows. Watching. Scowling. Waiting to stop this.
But he’s not here. Of course not.
He left. He made his choice. And I made mine. Not that I ever had one.
Dinner passes in a blur of candlelight and speeches. I manage smiles. I sip champagne, and the wine helps just enough to dull the edge of whatever’s clawing at my gut.
We dance our first dance under a canopy of gold light. Roberto’s hand is warm at my waist. His smile isperfect. His movements are graceful. To anyone watching, we look like a fairytale. And I want to believe it's true. So, so much.
But every time his eyes meet mine, that glint is there again. Faint and flickering.
