Each word hits like a slap.
"She was his daughter?—"
"He's a businessman." Lorenzo cuts me off. "Luna was a tool that failed. You're a tool he's trying to cash in. That's all."
Pietro watches our exchange with interest, like we're entertainment at dinner theater.
"The only reason Francesco's hitting us," Lorenzo continues, his voice taking on a teaching tone, like he's explaining math to a slow student, "is because he wants a piece of what we have. Territory. Routes. Money. Power."
He spreads his hands on the table, palms down. "If this was about Luna, if it was vendetta, we'd all be dead by nowafter Luna's death. Francesco doesn't do things halfway when it's personal. But business?" He shrugs. "Business is negotiable. Business is about leverage and profit margins."
"His god is money and authority," Nico adds from across the table. "Always has been. Family is just another currency to him."
The truth of it sits heavy in my chest. I think about how quickly Francesco moved after Mom's death. No mourning period for his sister. Just straight to negotiations, using me as collateral.
"The only real problem," Lorenzo says, drawing my attention back, "will be Daniil himself."
"The Russian won't give up easily," Pietro agrees. "He's already paid Francesco. In his mind, you're bought and paid for."
"But the Morozovs have territory in New York, not Chicago," Lorenzo points out. "They only started operating here after Francesco opened the door. Without Francesco's support, Daniil has no legitimate claim to Chicago territory."
"He could still come for her," Vittoria says quietly. "Out of pride if nothing else."
"Why would you do this?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "What do you get out of it?"
Lorenzo's eyes lock onto mine.
"Tell me something, Sophia." His voice is soft, dangerous. "What do you think happens to people who know too much about our business?"
Every hair on my body stands up. The room suddenly feels too small, the walls pressing in.
"People who've seen our faces, heard our plans, know our weaknesses?" He continues, never breaking eye contact. "What do you think we usually do with them?"
My mouth goes dry. I know the answer. Everyone at this table knows the answer.
"Keeping enemies close means we lose less," Lorenzo says, his tone shifting back to business. "You'll still work to get us that ledger. You'll help us get Francesco exactly where we want him. The marriage?" He waves a hand dismissively. "Just papers. Legal protection while we handle business."
Each word is a knife sliding between my ribs.
"After we have Francesco dealt with and you decide what you want to do with your life, we end the marriage. Simple annulment. You go your way, we go ours."
I want to scream at him. Want to throw something harder than bread at his perfect, emotionless face.
Part of me thought—God, how stupid—part of me thought maybe he actually wanted to keep me safe. That maybe there was something more behind this proposal than just business strategy.
Which is ridiculous. Completely, utterly ridiculous.
He didn't even know I existed until I knocked on his door a week ago. I was nothing to him. Still am nothing. Just another piece to move around his board, another tool to use against Francesco.
But knowing that doesn't stop my traitorous heart from cracking. Doesn't stop the pain that spreads through my chest like poison.
BecauseI'm in love with him.
I'm completely, desperately in love with Lorenzo Sartori.
And now I'm sitting at his family's dinner table while he discusses marrying me like it's a business merger. Like I'm inventory to be acquired and later liquidated.
"It's a solid plan," Nico says, breaking through my spiral.
