Scarlett's sympathetic voice crackles through the speaker. "That's insane! What are you, a teenager?"
"Apparently in this house, I'm less than that." I stop at the window, staring out at the manicured gardens below—another beautiful prison. "He acts like I'm some delicate possession that might break if exposed to fresh air."
"What exactly did he say?" Scarlett asks.
"That I have to ask him before doing anything." My free hand balls into a fist. "He grabbed my chin, Scar. Like I'm some child needing discipline."
"He put his hands on you?" Scarlett's voice sharpens with alarm.
I swallow hard. "It wasn't..." I trail off, unsure how to explain. It wasn't violent, but it was controlling, possessive—a claim of ownership. "It wasn't like that. But it was humiliating."
"Zoe, maybe this whole revenge plan isn't worth?—"
"Don't," I cut her off. "Don't say it."
Silence stretches between us. I can practically hear her concern through the phone.
"I knew this wouldn't be easy," I continue, softening my voice careful not to be heard. "I just didn't expect to feel so... trapped. It's only been one day and I'm already suffocating."
"So what's your plan?" Scarlett asks.
"I need to study him. Learn his weaknesses. Byron's intel was thorough about Feretti's business, but I need to understand the man himself."
"The way to a man's secrets is through his inner circle," Scarlett suggests.
The seed of an idea begins to take root. "If Damiano wants the perfect wife in public, I'll give him exactly that. I'll be so damn charming his family and associates will adore me. Then when he pulls his controlling bullshit, they'll see him as the problem, not me."
"Playing the long game," Scarlett says approvingly. "Smart."
"I've waited twelve years for justice," I remind her, my voice hardening. "I can be patient a little longer."
A knock at my door makes me jump. "I've got to go."
"Be careful, Zoe," Scarlett warns. "And call me?—"
"When I can," I finish. "I promise."
CHAPTER TEN
Itake another drag of my cigar, watching the smoke curl toward the ceiling as I lean back in my leather chair. The weight of family business settles around me like a familiar shroud. Across the desk, Enzo thumbs through financial reports while Alessio stands by the window, his profile sharp against the afternoon light.
"The Colombians are pushing again," Enzo says without looking up. "Their new guy thinks he can negotiate better terms."
I exhale slowly. "Let him think that for now."
Three days since the wedding. I've barely seen Zoe except at dinner, where she sits across from me with those defiant green eyes that spark something primalinside me. She's been spending most of her time with Lucrezia, charming my sister completely.
"Damiano? Did you hear what I said?" Enzo's voice pulls me back.
"The Colombians can wait."
Alessio shifts his stance, catching my attention. "Zoe seems to be settling in." His tone is carefully neutral, but I catch the question beneath.
"Lucrezia loves her new project," I say, tapping ash into the crystal ashtray. "They've been redecorating the east wing."
What I don't say is how I find myself looking for Zoe throughout the day.
"You trust her with Lucrezia?" Alessio asks.
