Vittoria's wine glass freezes halfway to her lips. Nico's chair creaks as he leans back. Pietro's expression doesn't change, but his stillness speaks volumes. Even Liam shifts slightly from his position by the door.
Sophia's face drains of color.
"Explain." Pietro's single word carries the weight of command.
I keep my voice steady, businesslike. This is strategy, nothing more. "Francesco wants us out of the picture because he can't work with us. We're too strong, too established. But if Sophia marries into our family, we flip the entire narrative."
"How?" Nico asks, skepticism thick in his voice.
"Think about it." I lean forward, selling the plan like it's not tearing something inside me. "Right now, Francesco's telling everyone she's been kidnapped. But what if the story becomes that she fell in love with one of us? That she chose to be here?"
Pietro's eyes narrow, considering. "Francesco would look like a fool."
"More than that." I force myself to continue. "He'd look like the villain. Trying to sell his own niece to Russians when she's already in love with someone else. The other families would see him as dishonorable, breaking the most basic family codes."
"And the man who marries her?" Pietro asks, his gaze sharp. "What's his angle?"
"He wants the alliance. Through her." The words taste bitter. "Francesco can't touch her without declaring war on her husband's family. And if that husband is a Sartori, Francesco knows he can't win that war."
Silence stretches through the room. I can feel Sophia's eyes on me, but I don't look at her. Can't look at her.
"It's brilliant," Vittoria says quietly. "Francesco loses his bargaining chip with the Russians. Daniil can't claim a married woman without starting a war with us. And the other families..." She pauses, working through the implications. "They'd see it as a love match. The Torrino-Sartori feud ending through marriage. It's almost romantic."
"Romantic." Pietro's voice drips sarcasm. "And which of my brothers volunteers for this romantic arrangement?"
The question hangs in the air. Nico's already shaking his head—he doesn't trust any Torrino, especially not after whatever happened with Luna. Pietro himself is not an option. He's with Nora but even if he wasn't he wouldn't. Bruno is in a coma.
That leaves me.
Sophia
The room tilts. My lungs forget how to work.
Marriage. To a Sartori.
The word echoes in my skull like a gunshot in an empty warehouse. I grip the edge of the table, trying to anchor myself to something solid while everything spins.
This isn't how I thought things would go. I came here for protection, not... this.
"Why?" The word scrapes past my throat. "Why would Francesco believe it?"
Lorenzo's eyes finally meet mine. Dark, calculating, completely unreadable.
"Because it makes sense," he says, voice flat. "You've been here over a week. You left after you found out that you're supposed to marry another man but you can't because you're in love with someone else."
My stomach churns. He makes it sound so clinical, like I'm just another piece on his chess board.
"But after Luna—" I start, then stop when every muscle in Lorenzo's body goes rigid.
"What about Luna?" He asks.
I swallow hard. "After what happened between you two, why would Francesco believe you'd want another Torrino woman? Why would he be okay with it?"
Lorenzo laughs.
It's not a pleasant sound. It's sharp and bitter. The laugh of someone who's seen too much, lost too much, and finds dark humor in the cruelty of the world.
"You think Francesco gives a shit about what happened to Luna?" He leans back in his chair, that terrible smile still playing at his lips. "You think he cares what happens to you?"
