CHAPTER TWELVE
EDEN
Fourteen days.
That’s how long I stay cooped up in my gilded cage.
A wounded bird—or Butterfly like Luca calls me—stuck in place.
Not so much because the door barred me from escaping but because my bruised body couldn’t work up enough willpower to leave the room.
Even my short jaunts to the small sitting area knocks the wind out of me.
So, I hung out with Beanie, Luca when he brought meals or settled down to watch another episode of Velvet Rose , and occasionally Allison, who I learned also lived at the manor with one of the Blackchapel Bastards.
My boss at the daycare reluctantly allowed me to use my PTO to cover the past weeks of absences, and the past two Sundays I called my parents like nothing was amiss.
It implied an air of normalcy, except for the fact that I was stuck between two warring brothers, who also happened to helm dangerous criminal organizations.
“What do you think about running away?” I ask Beanie. She continues sunning herself beside the window with a plaintive meow. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. You’re firmly on Luca’s side.”
For some reason, my cat loves the man, despite being kidnapped from her very cozy and familiar home. We’re two captives, although one of us clearly has succumbed to Stockholm Syndrome already.
But I refuse to submit to our captor, no matter how beautiful his dark eyes are or how sexy his perpetual shadow of a beard is. This Belle won't fall for the Beast—even if it's highly likely he's got a massive library hidden in this mansion, based on the number of books he’s brought me.
What about when he's your husband?
“He’s probably lying,” I mutter to myself.
No one's corroborated his story. Not that I've had much contact with the outside world to hear one way or another. But my parents haven’t mentioned a change in grooms—only that wedding preparations are continuing without a hitch. After a recent phone call with my parents, where I once-again left out my current circumstances, it became obvious they were still under the assumption that I’d be marrying Fabian in three days, not his illegitimate half-brother.
Which leaves me questioning the truth of Luca’s words.
Rolling to a sitting position on the side of the bed, I heave out a painful breath and clutch my side where a bruised rib has become the bane of my existence. This sharp twinge every time I move too much or breathe too deeply or freaking cough and sneeze is a bitch .
I allow myself a moment for the tenderness to ease then push to my feet with another gasp. I’m on a mission, and sore ribs aren’t going to deter me—not anymore. My life is in confusing shambles at the moment, and it’s not going to sort itself out while I lay in bed.
A wide hallway decorated with Baroque pieces greets me once I shuffle to the bedroom door.
Glancing left then right, neither direction bears a clue of which way leads to freedom and fresh air.
Hobbling to the right, it takes forever before a wooden balustrade appears accompanying a set of curved stairs.
This place is peak gothic romance.
It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that ghosts haunt the halls or that Luca and his brothers are secretly vampires.
Even my presence fits the narrative—the damsel in distress—though it’d be more romantic if a flimsy white nightgown dragged across the plush rugs rather than the worn hem of my sweatpants.
Snorting at my silliness, I descend the stairs, imagining myself a bit like Jane Austen’s Catherine Moreland from Northanger Abbey —a young woman obsessed with gothic novels and the possibility of experiencing an extraordinary romance.
Too bad Luca doesn’t have an ounce of Mr. Tilney in him.
Although I don’t know Luca well, Mr. Tilney is a curate, a kind and funny man, whereas my captor is part of a group colloquially known as the Blackchapel Bastards. A name even I’ve heard of in my small corner of the world.
“Hey, you’re up! How are you feeling?” Allie bustles into the grand foyer with several shopping bags in her hands before shutting the massive front door. I catch a glimpse of the intricate metal knocker in the middle of the dark wood, confirming my previous gothic appraisal of the home.
“Bored,” I say, trying not to huff too loudly after the last step onto the marble floor. Those stairs are not a bruised rib’s best friend. “Ready to go home.”
Allie chuckles and nods in understanding. “Trust me, I understand exactly how you feel. When I first arrived at the manor, there were long stretches of playing video games with Rafe to stave off my brain melting from having nothing to do.”
She’d shared a little of how she came to Blackchapel Manor and fell for the eldest Blackchapel Bastard, Mathias Beaumont during one of her visits to my room.
“We’re surrounded by men with a penchant for kidnapping women,” I quip.
“To be fair, Luca didn’t seek you out like Mathias did me. You were thrown into his arms, and he decided to keep you.” Her smile alludes to a belief that it was a perfectly logical thing for him to do.
Keep a woman .
Said woman definitely should not feel a twinge of warmth at being extraordinary enough to keep.
Gah, curse you, Catherine Moreland!
“I’m grateful for how he’s helped me, but I’m much better now.” My steps echo in the air as I follow Allie down the hall into a bright craft room surrounded by walls of ribbons, paper, and other creative supplies. It’s the only modern space I’ve seen so far.
She drops her bags on an empty table and rolls her shoulders. “I know… But it doesn’t make much sense to go home when you’ll be his wife and move back into the manor three days from now, does it?”
“I’m highly suspicious there will even be a wedding.
Don D’Amora hasn’t said anything to me or my parents about a change in groom, and if everything stays the same, there’s no way I’m marrying Fabian.
Not after what he arranged to be done to me.
” A shudder wracks my body at the memory of his thugs’ attack.
“I’m so sorry you had to endure that.” Allie reaches out to squeeze my arm in comfort. “Know that Mathias and his brothers take revenge very seriously, especially when it comes to men who harm women.”
“Luca mentioned something about revenge against their dads. What’s that about?” I haven’t thought much about that bit of information since he first explained his connection to Fabian and the don, but now it’s relevant.
Luca has kept our conversations brief and light the past few weeks.
Talking more about our nuptials like they’re a done deal versus sharing what he does in between visits to me.
In another life, I might find our chats comforting.
Trust-building. But this is reality, and he’s the man holding me here against my will.
“Do you want to sit and help me while we chat? I started crocheting these little stuffed animals to relax, then began donating them to the children at Polina’s Place to give them a better home.
” Allie points to a framed photo on the wall of her and a group of smiling children proudly holding a zoo of animals ranging from elephants to tigers.
“That’s amazing. Of course, I’ll help. Just show me the pattern.
” My Nana taught me how to knit, crochet, and sew years ago as a little girl.
There was even a lesson on creating the delicate lace Italy is known for.
I never quite mastered the tedious process, but crocheting miniature animals for kids? I can definitely handle that.
Allie offers several patterns, and I choose the red panda—one of the cutest animals on the planet and a favorite of mine—before listening as she details the Blackchapel Bastards’ background.
How each man arrived at the manor as a boy.
How they were forced to become ruthless mercenaries as kids. How it was all their fathers’ fault.
“From what Mathias told me, it sounds like Luca had a decent childhood with his mom and dad before she died, then the don decided to pawn Luca off on Conrad rather than disrupt the life he had going with his wife and Fabian by bringing his eldest, but illegitimate, son home.”
“I'm sorry to hear how Luca grew up, but he's still a stranger to me. Even these past few weeks, our conversations haven't lasted longer than the few minutes it takes for him to bring my meals and ensure I finish them. I don't truly know the man.”
“But he knows you ,” Allie says, then flushes, ducking her head as if she didn't mean to blurt that out.
“What do you mean?”
She bites her lip and meets my curious gaze. “I probably shouldn't say anything, but since you're going to be married, I don't see how it would hurt… And you deserve to know… Did you receive some kind of fruit basket or bouquet recently?”
The question comes from so far out in left field that it's practically out of the stadium. “A fruit basket?” I laugh, pausing my stitches with the red yarn Allie gave me. “What does that have to do with Luca?”
“So, you did get one?”
My brows furrow. “Yeah, but from my apartment complex.”
“Umm…” She draws the word out. “That wasn't from your apartment. The guys happened to see an order placed by Luca and put two and two together that he was interested in somebody.”
“Okay, but that doesn't really make sense. Why would he send me a fruit bouquet, especially when my apartment complex has sent me all these other gifts, too?”
“Other gifts?”
Suddenly, I'm the one blushing. Like maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. “Yeah, there was a book for cat recipes and a butterfly suncatcher.” As the words leave my mouth, they register with a different connotation in my mind.
A butterfly suncatcher.
Luca calls me Butterfly .
“No way.” I shake my head in disbelief, but Allie keeps her mouth shut and hums in her throat in a knowing way. “No,” I deny again. “Why would he send those things? It doesn't make sense.”
“The guys think his little obsession started around the time his dad had his birthday party. Did you attend?”
“Of course, everybody in The Family did.” Including his bastard son , I finish in my head the sentence that Allie is clearly holding back from saying.
The irony is if I hadn't been so engrossed in my mafia romance, then I might have heard the gossip happening in my own mafia family about Don D’Amora’s illegitimate son appearing at the party.
I want to slap my forehead at how utterly clueless I've been. This is why I want separation from Family politics. I'm not cut out for this life of secrets and surprises.
Like the first gift showing up in my mailbox rather than with my leasing agent when she handed over a gift bag and folder welcoming me to the complex. Luca even impersonated a maintenance man to gain access to my home!
I've been so stupid.
“Luca has been sending me gifts since the Don's birthday party,” I say flatly.
“And he might have been stalking you, too?” Her shoulders rise and fall in hesitation. “He's disappeared most nights. Everyone thought it had to do with a woman, so it's not much of a leap to assume he was going to see you.”
“But I've never even met Luca before two weeks ago. He must have been going somewhere else.” I leave out his maintenance visit, unwilling to share something that might confirm Allie’s suspicions.
“Just because you didn't see him doesn't mean he didn't see you.”
The words are quiet, but they roar in my head as my eyes widen at the implication. Luca stalked me. I have a stalker, and he’s going to be my husband in three days. My fingers slip on the crochet hook.
“I've said too much.” Allie grimaces and pats my shaking hand.
“No, thank you for telling me the truth.” Because it's obvious Luca didn't plan to.
Like she read my mind, Allie adds, “I'm sure it would have come out eventually. Luca and his brothers aren't ones to keep their feelings a secret.”
“Right,” I say as I try to wrap my head around the fact that Luca has been watching me.
No wonder Beanie likes him. She must have seen him from a window and recognized him when Luca broke into the apartment to get her.
Oh my god. Was that even the first time Luca broke in? Suddenly, my too-real dream of somebody comforting me in my sleep doesn't seem so far-fetched.
My breathing becomes labored. My muscles tighten to the detriment of the poor red panda in my hands. How did my life come to this?
“This isn't what I want,” I admit aloud. “My family is on the edges. I moved out of my parents' house to put distance between me and the mafia.”
A sympathetic expression flashes across Allie's face. “And now you'll be tied even closer when you marry Luca.”
“ If I marry Luca.”
“Unfortunately, I don't think you have much of a choice.”
We'll see about that.