I laugh, enjoying how she flinches at the sound. “She already has. It’s been dismissed due to lack of evidence of foul play.” I watch her absorb this information, see the hope drain from herfeatures. “You’re an adult who left of her own accord, according to the official record. The marriage paperwork is filed. There’s no crime here, Giuliana. Just a woman choosing to start a new life with her fiancé.”
“Choosing,” she repeats bitterly.
“The documents you signed say you chose freely.” I shrug. “That’s all that matters legally.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, pushing scallops around her plate without eating.
When she speaks again, her voice is different—harder, colder, like she’s made some internal decision. “You know what’s interesting about political alliances?”
Oh, this I have to hear. “What’s that?”
“They only work when both parties believe they’re getting something of value.” She finally meets my eyes, and there’s a defiance there that should irritate me but instead intrigues me. “Viktor Torrino expects a wife who makes you look stable and committed. But what happens when he realizes I’m a prisoner? That this marriage is built on coercion rather than partnership?”
The threat is almost cute in its naivety.
She actually thinks she has leverage here.
As if I’d bring her anywhere near Viktor Torrino without ensuring she’s completely compliant first.
And even if she did try to expose the coercion, who would Viktor believe?
A proven crime lord he’s negotiated with for months or a hysterical bride making wild accusations?
“He won’t realize that, because you’re going to play your role perfectly.”
“Am I?” She leans back in her chair, mimicking my casual posture in a way that’s almost mocking. “Because it seems to me that you need me cooperative for this alliance to work. And cooperation requires incentive.”
How adorable.
As if I haven’t already planned for every possible scenario, including a recalcitrant bride.
There are ways to ensure cooperation that don’t require her willing participation—pharmaceuticals, for instance, or simply the threat of what happens to her father if she steps out of line during the Torrino meeting.
But I’m going to let her think she has leverage. Just to see what she says.
“What exactly are you proposing?”
“I play the devoted fiancée for Viktor Torrino. I smile, I convince him we’re madly in love, I make your alliance work.” She sets down her fork with a soft click against the China. “In exchange, you let me see my father. Once. For ten minutes. Supervised, monitored, whatever security measures you want.”
I consider her across the table, this woman who should be broken by now but instead is bargaining like she has cards to play.
My eyes roam her face and settle on the careful way she breathes, protecting those damaged ribs.
She’s in pain, terrified, completely at my mercy—and still fighting.
It’s almost admirable.
“No,” I say, because giving her what she wants would undermine everything I’m building here.
But the disappointment that flashes across her face is merely the beginning.
She still has fight in her and believes she can negotiate from a position of powerlessness.
That will need to be corrected.
I’m being too lenient.
A week of comfortable captivity and she thinks she can bargain with me.
