Chapter 13 Lia
LIA
Four days.
It’s been four days since he touched me, since he buried himself so deep inside me, I felt him in my stomach. And not once has he looked at or spoken to me since.
He said he’s always watching me. He said he dreams about me.
Too bad he’s a damn liar.
He’s moved on with his life like nothing ever happened between us, like I’m nothing, while I struggle with the weight of all the conflicting emotions I feel.
I’ve avoided him for the past couple of days. I’ve avoided Marco too. Guilt sticks to my skin like something filthy. I let one brother kiss me in the garden and let the other fuck me in the library. All because of what? A fleeting thrill? Just to provoke the man I know my heart still aches for?
It’s not worth it. Feeling this… torn, dirty, unsure of who I even am anymore.
The soreness between my thighs is mostly gone, but I still feel him there. Every time I move, sit, or stretch, I remember. That pressure, the fullness, the ache.
And the worst part is that a piece of me still misses it. I never knew pain could be so beautiful.
I also almost didn’t go. I almost ignored the folded note Allegra slipped under my door—the one that told me to go to the infirmary after dinner. To ask for Luisa. To tell her I needed to be “taken care of.”
But I went. Because I had to. Because even if I hate him now, even if I wish I could scrub him out of me, I can’t risk—
My stomach turns. Francesco didn’t even tell me himself. He sent someone. Of course he did. Everything with him is planned, controlled, hidden. Even this.
My face heats at the memory as I stir the pot in front of me half-heartedly.
The aroma of garlic and fried tomatoes clings to the air.
I’m helping Allegra prep some of the leftovers she wants to eat.
It’s quiet in the kitchen, save for the sizzle of oil and my shallow breathing.
Most of the maids are retired to the quarters.
There are only about three of us still in the main house.
Then I hear them.
Their voices float in from the dining hall—low, masculine, and textured like expensive whiskey. Some of the Romanos are having a late dinner. I hear Marco first, and as usual, he’s saying something funny. I hear Francesco’s voice cut through, deeper and quieter. My pussy clenches.
I frown at my reaction.
“Why are you staring at the stew like it insulted your mother?” Allegra mutters, smirking as she moves past me. “Are you all right?”
I nod quickly.
Before she can say anything, another maid rushes in and gives Allegra a message. Allegra turns toward me with a sigh, handing me a small tray.
“Marco wants this brought to the table. A bottle of the Syrah and that bowl of olives he likes. Be a dear and take it in?”
I blink. “Why me?”
“Because my hands are full, and he asked for you.” She gives me a pointed look. “Don’t look like that. They don’t bite.”
They do, actually.
I wipe my palms on my dress, trying to still the tremble in them. My heart thuds hard against my ribs as I take the tray. I don’t want to face them, especially not when they are together. Not when my body still burns for one and guilt won’t let me breathe around the other.
The hallway feels longer than usual. I can hear the quiet clinking of silverware and the murmur of casual conversation. I push open the heavy double doors.
They’re seated at the long table. Only the three brothers are present tonight. I don’t know if I should feel better or worse about that.
Marco sees me first, and his eyes light up like he’s been waiting for me.
Francesco doesn’t move or speak, but I feel his attention shift toward me. I feel it like flames against my skin.
I walk to the table with careful, deliberate steps and set the tray down near Marco. My hands are steady, unlike my pulse, which is beating rapidly.
“Where have you been?” Marco drawls. “I was starting to think you were hiding from me.”
“Around,” I say casually, but I can feel Francesco’s gaze burning into the side of my face.
I look up, and our eyes meet.
It’s just for a second, but something twists in my gut. I wait for a flicker of something, anything… to remind me he still thinks about that night.
But all I see is ice.
My jaw tightens. Fury burns in my chest as I look away.
“Stay,” Marco says suddenly, pulling out the chair beside him. “We have a lot to catch up on.”
I should say no. I should give him a silly excuse and walk out right now. But I don’t. I slide into the seat beside him and smooth my dress as if any of this is normal. Like I’m not falling apart inside.
Marco pours me a glass of wine and leans in. “You look tense. Miss me?”
I smile sweetly. “A little.”
“Just a little?” He places a hand over his chest. “You wound me, Stellina. Maybe you should do good on that promise of looking after me.”
I laugh softly, twirling a piece of my hair in my fingers. Every muscle in my body is taut from bottling up my emotions. My anger. My pain. This is the only way I can let them out without having a meltdown.
I’ll probably cringe at my behavior tomorrow, but right now, I don’t care about anything else except hurting the man sitting directly opposite me.
Francesco hasn’t spoken since I came in, and I swear not to look at him again. But from the corner of my eye, I catch him cutting his lasagna a little too harshly.
Elio has also been quiet, though that’s the way he always is.
I can count the number of times I’ve heard him speak.
I don’t pay any attention to him. I haven’t been able to look him in the eye since I caught him with a maid.
There’s something about him that makes me genuinely terrified.
Maybe it’s because I never know what’s going on in his mind.
I take a sip of the wine Marco pours me and force my eyes to remain on him. His comments are playful, bold, almost daring. And I play along, not for Marco, but for the man I can’t seem to recover from.
Francesco stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I still have some work to do. All these wedding preparations… They never end.”
I ignore the bitter taste in my mouth. And when he leaves, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
Marco leans in, murmuring, “He’s been like that all week. Moody bastard.”
I don’t answer because I’m too angry to say anything nice or respectful.
It’s late when I head down the hallway in the servants’ quarters alone. I take the long way back to my room, hoping to clear my head. I pass one of the darker corridors, and that’s when I see a tall, dark figure.
Elio.
My heart slams against my chest as I take him in. Leaning against the wall like he’s been waiting for me, his arms are crossed, and his mouth is curled in a lazy smile.
It might be the first time I’ve ever seen him smile, and it doesn’t look friendly at all.
“You look different from all the times I’ve seen you,” he says, leaning off the wall to step toward me. “You look like there’s a lot going on in your mind… in your life.”
I bristle but stay rooted, unsure if I should run or speak, wondering where he’s heading.
“You think you’re the first girl we’ve broken in?”
My breath stops. Ice crawls up my spine. Anger and humiliation burn my cheeks.
“You won’t be the last,” he continues, his voice low and unhurried. “They like to ruin soft things here. This house… our world… it doesn’t allow happy endings.”
I force a nervous laugh, but it sounds wrong even to me. “I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He smirks, taking another step forward to stand right before me. Then I feel it, his amusement at my fear.
“You think any of this is a coincidence? That you’re still alive because someone up there gives a damn?”
I stare at him, my lips parted, but no sound comes out.
“You’re still breathing because they both intervened to keep you alive. Separately. For their own personal interests… their own fucking games.”
His lips curl up even more. “You think my father would spare the daughter of a traitor for two years out of mercy?”
His voice drops to a dangerous tone. “You’re not a guest here. You’re here for a purpose. And it’s certainly not to be passed around by brothers like some floozy. You’re leverage. A prize. A fuse. Don’t complicate or worsen things by making the mistake of thinking you matter.”
With that, he walks away, leaving me stunned beyond words.
Several moments later, I find myself in the library. I couldn’t sleep, Elio’s words repeating over and over again in his head.
What did he mean by everything he said? They kept me alive for a purpose? What purpose? Is this all some game I’m not in on? A challenge between brothers?
What is going on?
I pull some strands of my hair, a sound of frustration escaping my lips.
I glance around the room, and the memories of that night hit me harder than ever. I didn’t mean to come here. My feet carried me here on their own accord. Maybe because I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts in my room. Maybe because I wanted to distract myself with a book.
Or maybe because an angry, yet shameless, part of me hoped I’d bump into Francesco.
I sink into one of the leather chairs in the corner and pull a book off the shelf just to have something to look at.
Just then, the door creaks open.
I tense as my eyes dart up.
Marco.
He steps inside quietly and closes the door behind him with a soft click. He doesn’t speak right away. He just watches me from across the room.
There’s something dark in his eyes as he starts walking toward me in slow and careful steps.
When he’s only a breath away, he speaks.
“I know.”
My heart stops. It can’t be…
“I know you fucked him.”
The words hit like a slap. My throat goes dry.
He chuckles harshly to himself when I don’t say anything. “I could tell. You reeked of him for two days.” His eyes graze over my body. “And I know my brother, he’s not exactly gentle.”
I flinch. My cheeks heat up at his implication.
He doesn’t stop walking until he gets to me, then he lowers down to his haunches in front of me. “I don’t care.”
A gasp leaves my lips as his hands slide around my waist. His movement is bold and confident, like he already knows I’ll let him. And that annoys me because he somehow believes he has such power over me.
His mouth hovers near mine. “Whatever happened between you two, it doesn’t change a thing. I know you’ll still end up with me.”
I can’t look at him. I don’t want to feel what he’s making me feel. My body is betraying me, but I won’t let him win. Not after Francesco.
I shift uncomfortably in the chair, the desire curling in my chest. His hand slides along my side, but I push him away gently.
“I can’t. We can’t.”
He grunts and pulls my legs apart to kneel between them. I bury my hands in his hair, trying to pull him off me, but his body holds me down against the seat. His hands caress my thigh, and I close my eyes, trying to imagine myself anywhere else but in this moment.
All I can picture is Francesco pinning me against the bookshelf and slamming repeatedly into me.
Marco’s fingers feel foreign against my body, and when they slip under my blouse, I can’t help but jolt back like I’ve been shocked.
“This is… insane.” I stand on shaky feet, moving away from him. “I don’t feel that way about you, Marco.”
He stands up, frustration evident in the sharp rise and fall of his chest. His face is flushed with desire, but there’s something else there too—something darker, more possessive.
“You really think what you had with him means something?” His voice is tight, almost mocking.
The words sting, and I grit my teeth, pushing back the surge of doubt. Does it mean something?
“You think he’ll choose you?” He scoffs, his voice a pitch higher. “You think you’re special?”
Elio’s words echo in my head—what if they were lies? What if I was being played? What if all of them are just using me for their own gain?
I grit my teeth. “I don’t give a damn what either of you thinks. I’m done.”
But my voice trembles, and we both hear it.
“You say that now. But you care. You care more than you should.”
Marco runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “He may not love Silvia, but he’ll leave you. He always does. He always chooses duty over anything else and never looks back. That’s who he is.”
His voice softens, but it doesn’t lose its edge.
“But I won’t. I won’t leave you. You’ll end up with me. You’ll see. I’ll make sure of it. And one day we can all laugh about this because you’ll look back and realize… it was always going to be me.”
Then he turns and walks out.
Even though I know he’s right, I still can’t bring myself to believe it.
I stand there for a few minutes after he’s gone. I didn’t kiss him back, but I still feel like a betrayal. The memory of Francesco still lingers—his touch, his kiss—making the space between us feel like it’s closing in.
I know I can’t forget him. Not even when Marco’s words drip like poison in my ears.
I sink to the floor, my back against the sofa, heart thudding so loud it fills the room. I’m confused. Wrung out. Torn.
I don’t know what is happening. All I know is I’m trapped in the middle of something I never asked for, and it’s tearing me apart.