"Don Salvatore is a powerful man. You should be grateful he still wants you."
"Once you're married, you'll be protected. The Don's wife is untouchable."
"Your parents would be proud you're doing your duty. Finally."
That last one made me want to vomit.
The Accardi estate looked like a tomb.
Massive walls. Cameras everywhere. Armed guards. The house was beautiful in a cold, dead way.
Luca Moretti met us at the entrance.
"Miss Romano. Vincent. Don Salvatore is waiting."
The hallways were oppressive. Dark wood, expensive art, everything perfect and unwelcoming.
Don Salvatore walked into his study, and every instinct screamed to run.
Fifties. Tall. Perfectly styled gray hair. Expensive suit. But his eyes—pale blue, cold, empty—made my skin crawl.
He looked at me like I was an object he'd purchased.
"Vincent. Thank you for delivering the girl."
The girl. Not even my name.
"Stand up, Aria."
I stood.
He circled me slowly. Assessing. Cataloging. Checking for defects.
"You'll do. Your father kept you sheltered. Good. A wife should be pure. Women with too much freedom become difficult." He stopped in front of me. "But you understand your place, don't you?"
I nodded, hating myself.
"Good girl." He patted my cheek like I was a dog. "Sit."
I sat.
"Your father and I had an agreement. His death doesn't change that. You'll marry me in three months. You'll learn to run my household. You'll obey me in all things. When I speak, you listen. When I give an order, you follow it immediately. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Don Salvatore."
"You will not embarrass me. You will not question my decisions. You will not involve yourself in business. Your role is simple—be a proper wife. Manage the household. Host when required. Produce heirs when I decide. Everything else is beyond your concern. Women who forget their place tend to meet unfortunate ends."
The threat was casual. Friendly even.
"I understand."
"Excellent. My son will show you to your rooms. Vincent and I have business."
"Luca, fetch Kai."
Footsteps.
The door opened.
