The wine was expensive. Smooth. Probably cost more than my entire wardrobe back home. We drank it like it was cheap beer at a college party, sprawled across Lia's massive bed, talking about everything and nothing.
Books we loved. Music that made us feel something. Dreams we'd probably never get to live.
"I wanted to go to college." Lia was on her third glass, her words slightly slurred. "Like, a real college. With dorms and terrible cafeteria food and professors who don't care if you're mafia royalty. I wanted to study art history. Spend four years learning about dead painters and pretending I was normal."
"That's exactly what I wanted." The admission slipped out before I could stop it. "Papa was going to let me apply. Before... before everything."
"Before he arranged your marriage to my father."
"Before he died." The words hurt to say. "I asked him to find another way. Asked him to call off the engagement. And he was going to meet with your father when it happened."
Lia's hand found mine. Squeezed. "That's not your fault. You couldn't have known what would happen."
"Feels like it is."
"Feelings lie sometimes." She took another sip of wine, her expression distant. "My mom used to tell me that. Before she died."
There was something in the way she said it. Something careful. Like she was testing whether I could be trusted with more.
I didn't push. If Lia wanted to talk about her mother, she would. If not, I wouldn't force it.
"What was she like? Your mom?"
Lia's face softened. "Kind. Too kind for this life, probably. She loved books and gardens and music. Used to play piano for hours. Made this house feel less like a prison and more like a home." She paused. "She died when Kai and I were just kids. It was... hard. Losing her changed everything."
The pain in her voice was real and raw. I squeezed her hand back.
"I'm sorry. Losing a parent is... there's no word for it."
"No. There really isn't." She shook her head, clearly not wanting to dwell. "But hey, at least we have each other now, right? Two girls trapped in the same nightmare. We might as well be friends through it."
"I'd like that. Being friends."
And I meant it. For the first time since Mama died, I felt like I had someone who understood. Someone who got what it was like to be powerless. To be trapped. To be counting down days until you could breathe again.
By the time Lia passed out—lightweight, apparently—it was evening. I tucked her under a blanket, cleaned up the wine glasses, and slipped out of her room.
The house felt different without Salvatore. Less oppressive. Like the walls themselves could breathe easier without his presence suffocating everything.
I wandered aimlessly, not ready to go back to my room. Not ready to be alone with my thoughts.
The library called to me. I'd noticed it during Kai's tour but hadn't explored yet. Now seemed like a good time.
It was beautiful. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, leather chairs, huge windows overlooking the gardens. The kind of room you could get lost in for hours.
I picked a book at random—some classic I'd been meaning to read—and curled up in one of the chairs. Tried to focus on the words. Failed miserably.
All I could think about was Salvatore's expectations. His demand for a virgin bride. The way he'd touched my hand like he owned me.
I wasn't a virgin. And there was no way to fake it. No way to hide it.
Which meant in three months, on my wedding night, everything was going to fall apart.
"You look like you're planning a murder."
I nearly threw the book across the room.
Kai stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with that casual confidence that made my stomach flip. He'd changed since breakfast—dark jeans that hung low on his hips, black t-shirt that clung to muscles I remembered feeling under my hands. His hair was slightly messy like he'd been running his fingers through it.
