Sienna looked between us, confusion flickering across her face. “Does that mean you’re taking my sister home with you?”
“Yes,” I said.
“No,” Chiara snapped at the same time. I ignored her.
Sienna frowned. “But she doesn’t want to go with you.”
I crouched again, lowering my voice like I was letting her in on something important. “I know she doesn’t, and I’m sorry about that. But I reallyneedher, too. More than you do right now.”
She considered that. Too seriously for someone her age. Then she looked at Chiara. “She’ll be okay, though, right?”
Chiara’s throat worked. Before she could answer, I did.
“Of course,” I said easily. “I take very good care of what’s mine.”
Chiara’s nails dug into her palms. I could see it.
“Stop saying that,” she hissed. I stood again, adjusting my cuffs like this was all routine. “You don’t own me, you lying piece of-”
“It’s already done,” I said. “You’re coming with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you willingly,” she hissed. “I’d rather die than be your wife. You’ll have to force me every step of the way, and I’ll never stop fighting you.”
I met her gaze. Held it. Then smiled, slow and deliberate. “Good. I’d be disappointed if you did.”
I straightened before she could respond.
“Get her things,” I told her crestfallen father.
Chiara glared, shaking with anger. She stood there, staring at me like she wanted to burn me alive.
Good. I’d rather have her fire than her submission. It would be so much more satisfying to watch her break for me, and I’d spend a lifetime reminding her of how hard she resisted at first.
Chiaradidn’tspeakwhenthey put her in my car. I didn’t expect her to.
The door shut, sealing us into the back of the Rolls-Royce, the city sliding past in blurred light and glass. Chiara sat as far from me as possible, shoulders locked, hands clenched in her lap like she was holding herself together by force.
Distance wouldn’t save her.
“You’re bleeding through the bandage on your ankle,” I said.
Her head snapped toward me. “I’m fine.”
Lie. The scent of iron said otherwise. I leaned forward slightly, watching her instead of the skyline. “You won’t be if you keep pretending.”
“I don’t need your concern,” she bit out.
“No,” I said calmly. “You don’t. Yet.”
Silence stretched again, thick and deliberate. She turned her face toward the window, but I could still see the tension in her jaw, the way she was bracing for something that hadn’t come yet.
The car slowed as we pulled up to the building.Mybuilding. Steel and glass cutting into the sky, untouchable, owned by the most powerful man in the city. She followed my gaze up.
“What is this?” she asked, quieter now.
“My home.”
A flicker of something crossed her face. Not fear. Not yet. Realization. The driver opened the door. I stepped out first, then waited.
