Everything was expensive. Beautiful. Cold.
Like living inside a very pretty coffin.
I walked to the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. The gardens below were immaculate. Not a leaf out of place. Not a flower wilting. Everything controlled and perfect and completely lifeless.
That's what my life was going to be. Controlled. Perfect. Lifeless.
And somewhere in this massivehouse was Kai.
My stomach twisted.
Kai. God. What were the odds? What kind of cosmic joke was this? Out of all the men in all the clubs in this entire city, I'd slept with the one man I absolutely, positively could not have slept with.
I pressed my hands against my face, trying to breathe through the panic building in my chest.
The man I'd given my virginity to—the man whose touch I could still feel like a brand on my skin was about to become my stepson. I was going to marry his father. We were going to live in the same house. See each other every day. Pretend that night never happened.
Except I couldn't pretend. Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. Felt him. Heard his voice in my ear telling me exactly what he was going to do to me.
This was sick. Wrong. Completely insane.
And the way he'd looked at me in that study when he'd realized who I was? That hadn't been embarrassment or regret or any of the normal emotions a person should feel in that situation.
That had been possession. Hunger. Something dark and dangerous that made every survival instinct I had scream to run.
Except I couldn't run. Because Uncle Vincent had made it very clear what would happen if I tried.
I started unpacking, just to have something to do with my hands. My clothes looked wrong here. Too young. Too casual. Too much like someone who wasn't about to become a mob wife.
I was hanging up a dress when the tears started.
God, I was so tired of crying. So tired of being sad and scared and angry. But I couldn't stop. The tears just came, hot and furious, and before I knew it I was sitting on the floor with my back against the bed, sobbing like my heart was breaking.
Because it was. It had been breaking for weeks now. First Mama, wasting away in that hospital bed. Then Papa, blown apart because I'd asked him to help me. And now this. Trapped. Alone. With no way out.
A knock on the door made me scramble to my feet, wiping frantically at my face.
"Yes?"
Uncle Vincent walked in without waiting for permission.
Of course he did. Why would anyone in this family believe in basic human decency like knocking and waiting for a response?
"Aria. Good. You're settling in."
His eyes swept over me, cataloging my red face and swollen eyes with the same detached assessment he'd use for livestock.
"I'm leaving now. But I wanted to remind you—the family is counting on you. Maria, Carlos, Rosa, all of them. Their lives depend on you doing exactly what's expected. No drama. No problems. No attempts to run." His smile was cold. "I'd hate for anyone to get hurt because you decided to be selfish."
"I understand."
"Good. Don Salvatore is a powerful man. You should be grateful he still wants you after everything that's happened. Don't disappoint him. Don't disappoint me." He moved toward the door, then paused. "Oh, and Aria? I'll be checking in regularly. Just to make sure you're... adjusting well."
Then he was gone, leaving me alone in this beautiful prison.
I finished unpacking in numb silence. Hung up clothes I'd probably never wear. Put away books I wouldn't be able to focus on. Arranged toiletries in a bathroom I'd never feel comfortable in.
By the time Mrs. Rossi brought dinner, I'd managed to pull myself together. Somewhat.
