But my body won’t cooperate. Won’t stop shaking. For the first time since waking up in Elio’s fortress I am genuinely scared.
The door slams open.
Elio storms in, fury radiating off him in waves, and the entire room compresses. He takes in the scene in a fraction of a second—Cicero too close, me pressed against the desk, my face pale and my hands shaking—and his eyes go flat. Cold. Dangerous in a way I haven’t seen before.
“Get away from her.” His voice is pure ice. And underneath it, violence barely leashed.
Cicero doesn’t move. Doesn’t even look at his son initially. Just continues studying me like I’m a specimen.
“We were just getting acquainted.”
“Now.”
Cicero finally turns. That cold smile still in place. He steps away from me slowly, proving he’s not intimidated, proving he moves on his own timeline, and brushes a speck of dust from his suit.
Elio positions himself between us, his body shielding me. Hands fisted at his sides. Every line of him vibrating with barely controlled rage.
My lungs remember how to work. The edges of the room sharpen. I’m still terrified, but the panic recedes slightly with Elio between me and his father.
“There was no last girl.” His voice is flat. Deadly. “You’re lying to scare her.”
Cicero shrugs. Elegant. Dismissive.
“Does it matter?” His dead eyes slide to me briefly, then back to his son. “The principle stands.”
Does it matter?
The lie was designed to terrify me. And it worked. But the threat behind it, the willingness to lie, to manipulate, to use fear as a weapon, that’s real regardless of whether there was ever a girl.
Elio’s jaw tightens. “What do you want?” His voice is low, lethal. “You know I don’t allow visitors. Not even you.”
“What I’ve always wanted. For you to fulfill your obligations.” Cicero straightens his cuffs with meticulous precision. “Gabriella expects you to pick out wedding rings by the end of this week. Her father has his speech ready.”
The room tilts.
Wedding rings?
Gabriella?
All of this—the kidnapping, the obsession, forcing me to admit I want him, theI want to show you what our life could be—and he’s engaged?
The word echoes in my skull.Engaged.To someone named Gabriella. Someone who exists outside this fortress, waiting for rings and speeches and a wedding.
“I’m not marrying Gabriella.” Elio’s voice is steel.
“Then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.” Cicero gestures toward me without looking. Like I’m furniture. Like I’m not even worth acknowledging directly. “Simple equation. The girl goes, or the alliance goes. Choose.”
“She’s not negotiable.”
I find my voice. “Sheis right here.”
Both men turn. Cicero’s dead eyes land on me like I’ve done something distasteful by existing. Elio’s expression shifts, fear flickering beneath the fury.
“And she wants no part of your sick family.” The words pour out, hot and bitter. “Or your bargains. Or—” My gaze locks with Elio’s. Betrayal raw in my throat. “—your fucking lies.”
Our life. What our life could be.
What a joke. What a goddamn joke.
