Finally he asked, "Why do you think the Vitales'll help you?"
"Because you helped Stefan Romano and his situation wasn't that different." The words came out steadier than I felt. "You took in a rival boss's son. Protected him during your RICO trial. I saw the media coverage. I saw you with him in the courthouse. I need the same protection."
Elio's expression shifted slightly. Something flickered in those sharp eyes—surprise, maybe, or grudging respect.
"You've done your research."
"I'm desperate, not stupid."
His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.
"Sit down." He picked up his phone and dialed. Waited. Then: "Sorry to interrupt. But we have a situation. You need to come to my office. Now." Pause. "The kind you need to see for yourself. Bring Stefan if you want—this might be relevant to him."
He hung up and returned his attention to me. Didn't speak. Just watched me with those calculating eyes while I sat there dripping on his expensive furniture.
I wanted to say something. Explain more. Make my case stronger. But something about Elio Marino told me silence was smarter right now.
We waited in heavy quiet broken only by the distant thump of music from downstairs.
Three minutes later, the door opened.
Two men walked in. One was compact and full of power, like a coiled spring. Dark eyes, scarred knuckles, the kind of presence that made survival instinct scream run. This had to be Matteo DeLuca. The Savage.
Behind him was Stefan Romano. Lighter build, brown hair, green eyes that looked wary and curious in equal measure. He was young—early twenties, maybe. Closer to my age than the others.
Matteo had his arm around Stefan's waist in a way that was protective and possessive.
"This is Julian Bianchi," Elio said without preamble. "Son of Winston Bianchi from Chicago. He showed up twenty minutes ago asking for sanctuary."
"Why?" Matteo's voice was gravel. Dangerous.
I stood and met his eyes. Couldn't show weakness. Not now.
"Because I saw the media coverage during your RICO trial. I saw you with Stefan Romano in the courthouse. I saw that theVitales took in a rival boss's son and protected him. I need the same protection. I need sanctuary from my family."
"Why do you need sanctuary from your family?" Stefan asked quietly. His voice was gentler than the others. Understanding, maybe.
"I'm engaged." The word tasted like ash. "Have been since I was fourteen. Arranged marriage to Dante Caruso—he's older, powerful, connected to our operations. The wedding is scheduled for next month." I paused. Forced myself to continue. "I refuse to go through with it. My family won't listen. They insist the alliance is too important. So I left."
I refused to think about Dante. About what happened when I was sixteen. I'd spent those years learning how to keep those memories walled away. I couldn't afford to be distracted by them now.
"You ran away from an arranged marriage?" Elio's voice was sharp. Skeptical. "That's what you're risking war over?"
"Yes. I'm not marrying him. I don't care what my family wants. I don't care about the alliance. I won't do it."
"So you came here," Matteo said. "To your family's rivals in New York. Hoping we'd take you in."
"Yes. I saw how you protected Stefan. I'm hoping you'll do the same for me." I met his gaze. "I can work. I'm educated—Columbia, like Stefan. I understand finance and operations. I'm not asking for charity. I'm asking for sanctuary while I figure out my next move."
Stefan stepped closer to me.
"How old are you?" Stefan asked.
"Twenty-one."
"And how long have you been planning this escape?"
I hesitated. Then: "Five years. Since I was sixteen."
