No "How are you?" No "I miss you." Just instructions, like he’s in a hurry and needs to impart them quickly.
I stare at the message for a long moment, my earlier happiness draining away. I'd hoped—foolishly, I realize now—that Thaddeus would give me space while I was in New York. That he'd be too busy with work to visit often, and I'd have these two years to myself before I had to face the reality of our engagement.
But of course, that was naive. My father wouldn't have agreed to let me come to New York if he thought I'd be truly free. AndThaddeus has never been the type to let something that belongs to him out of his sight for long.
Something that belongs to him.The thought makes my skin crawl, but I push it away. This is the deal I made. Two years of graduate school in exchange for marrying Thaddeus Whitmore. I knew what I was agreeing to.
I type back:Okay. See you then.
Three dots appear immediately, and I brace myself.
Thad:Good girl. I'm looking forward to seeing you. It's been too long.
The words should be sweet. Affectionate. Instead, they feel like a collar tightening around my neck.
I set my phone down and try to return to my reading, but the words blur on the page. All I can think about is Friday night, about putting on the dress Thaddeus requested and smiling through dinner while he talks about his work and makes decisions about our future without asking for my opinion.
Two years,I remind myself.You have two years before you have to give up everything. Make them count.
2
ROMEO
Three Weeks Earlier
My father'soffice smells like leather and cigars, like old money. I swear I can smell blood in the air, even though the room is immaculately clean. I sit across from him in one of the leather wingback chairs, my posture perfect, my expression attentive. I've been performing this role since I was old enough to understand what the Ciresa family business requires, and part of it is absolute loyalty to whatever my father wants. Absolute willingness to do whatever he needs, or desires, or orders.
"The Riverside development is moving forward," Dante Ciresa says, spreading architectural renderings across his mahogany desk. "We've secured the permits, the financing is in place, and the city council is on board. This is exactly the kind of legitimate operation that we need. We can launder money through it, keep the books clean, and use it for meetings when required.”
I nod, studying the plans with what I know looks like genuine interest. It’s a mixed-use development—luxury condos, retail space, a boutique hotel. All perfectly legal and perfectlyprofitable. The kind of venture that requires someone with an MBA to manage properly, someone who can navigate board meetings and investor presentations with the same ease that they navigate the darker aspects of family business.
That someone is supposed to be me.
"The MBA program starts in three weeks," my father continues, his dark eyes fixed on my face. "Two years, Romeo. That's all I'm asking. Two years to complete the degree, to learn the legitimate side of business management. Then you'll be ready to take over these operations while I focus on... other matters."
Other matters.I’m well aware that this is yet another test, not so different from when he put a gun in my hand at sixteen and had me kill a man to prove my loyalty. There have been plenty of tests since. I’ve proven that I can be violent, that I can be ruthless, that blood doesn’t faze me, and cruelty doesn’t affect me. Now I need to prove that I have the business acumen his heir needs.
For years, the Ciresa family has been trying to expand its legitimate enterprises, making it less likely that our illegitimate ones will land us in federal prison. It’s a delicate balance, and it’s one that my father has drilled into me over the years.
"I understand.” My voice carries exactly the right note of dutiful commitment. I've practiced this tone since childhood, learned to modulate my words to convey emotions I don't actually feel. Respect. Dedication. Filial loyalty.
The truth is, I feel nothing.
I've always felt nothing, or close enough to nothing that the distinction doesn't matter. I learned early on that this made me different, that other people experienced the world through some emotional lens I simply didn't possess. So I studied them. I watched how they reacted, how they expressed joy or anger orlove, and I learned to mimic it. I became fluent in the language of human emotion without ever really speaking it myself.
It's made me very good at what I do, and a perfect heir for the Ciresa name. Emotion is a weakness, a vulnerability that can be exploited. I have no such weakness. I can negotiate, manipulate, threaten, or charm equally, because none of it touches me. I'm simply playing the role that the situation requires.
The only exception is Giulia.
My sister is eight years younger than me, and she's the only person in the world who makes me feel something approximating genuine emotion. I think it might be something approaching affection… protectiveness, maybe. When she was born, I'd expected to feel nothing for her—this small, screaming creature that had disrupted our household. Instead, I felt... something. Not love, exactly, but a sense of responsibility. A desire to keep her safe.
We spend another hour going over the details of the Riverside development, discussing ROI and management structures. I ask the right questions and make the appropriate observations, playing the part of the engaged and capable heir. By the time I leave his office, I know he's satisfied, confident even, that his son will fulfill his role, complete the MBA, take over the legitimate operations, and be everything that my father could have hoped for in an heir.
I drive to campus in my Aston Martin. It’s too expensive and flashy for a graduate student, but perfectly appropriate for a Ciresa. The late August heat shimmers off the pavement, and the university grounds are relatively quiet. Most students won't arrive for another week, but I've come early to familiarize myself with the campus and scout the territory before the semester begins.
I like to know what I’m up against. I like to be familiar with my territory. Being well-prepared and never caught on the back foot has served me well in every aspect of my life.
I park in the visitor lot and walk through campus, taking note of the locations of various buildings, the flow of foot traffic, the security cameras. The business school is modern, all glass and steel, designed to impress prospective students and corporate donors. I find my assigned classroom, and then there’s nothing else I reallyneedto do.
