Chapter 7 Eleanor
Eleanor
The church looms over us, a stone beast swallowing the gray Brooklyn sky.
Inside, cold silence wraps itself around wooden pews.
Only the first few rows are occupied. A dozen men in crisp Italian suits.
A dozen women draped in sleek designer dresses.
The Rosettis. They own the place like they own everything else.
My side is an afterthought—just Juliet behind me and father at my side. The rest of my father's entourage is nonexistent. Not a single one of his employees. No other Prices, close or distant. He only bothered with a single bodyguard.
Juliet shifts, twisting her handkerchief until it’s limp and knotted. Her distress seeps into me, hot and prickling. “I wish you didn’t have to do this,” she whispers.
“Don’t, Jules.” I keep my voice sharp. “It’s a little late for that.”
“It’s not too late.” Her voice cracks. “You can still—”
“What?” I turn to her, too fast. “Run? And then what happens? Father marries you off to someone worse? At least this way we know what we’re getting.” I touch her arm, softer this time. “This is the only way, Jules.”
Her eyes brim with tears she’s too afraid to let fall.
Father watches, his jaw clenched. It would’ve been easier for him if I’d gone without a fight. No love, no fuss, just his kind of deal. But here I am, taking up space. “It’s time,” he says.
I clutch my bouquet, the edges of the white roses wilting, and pretend I don’t see Juliet’s watery eyes. Leonardo waits at the altar, a stranger about to become my husband. My new master.
I set my jaw, ready to face the inevitable.
My shoes click against the floor. Echoes in the near-empty church.
My new family looks on with hard eyes. I’m terrified but determined to hide it.
The key is control. My hair is pulled back so tightly I can’t even blink without it hurting.
My grip on the bouquet is hard enough to bruise.
Leonardo turns to watch me, his stare a silent command.
When I reach the altar, Leonardo glares at me, his eyes boring into mine, then he turns to face the priest without a word, a smile, or a hint of encouragement.
The priest begins the mass. Words drone like bees in the thick silence.
My first Catholic wedding. First mass. No one thought to teach me when I was growing up.
Why bother, when business was our real religion?
I don’t even know when to kneel. I follow Leonardo's lead.
In this, as in everything, I will have to follow.
It’s over quickly. Business-like. I don’t look at father, but I feel his eyes on me, weighing what he's gained against what he might still lose.
Leonardo slips a ring onto my finger, smooth gold that feels like a handcuff, so different from my mother's ring. His touch is impersonal, possessive. Just a touch, and he’s branded me.
He leans in. The kiss is quick, obligatory. I barely breathe. A shiver runs through me, but I don't flinch.
Juliet watches, silent and small beside the altar. I can almost feel the urgency of her fear, the way she sees my whole life as nothing more than sacrifice. I refuse to look at her.
The priest says something in Italian. Pronouncing us what? Man and wife. Husband and prisoner.
Father doesn’t smile. “Congratulations,” he says, crisp as a fresh suit. A single word for a daughter well sold.
The guests rise to congratulate us. They swarm, sharp and quick. The clatter of voices in Italian. Claps on the shoulder for Leonardo, brief kisses on the cheek for me.
A woman with dark curls and a dazzling grin hugs Leonardo and chatters fast. Carmela Rosetti. His little sister. His only sister. How protected she must be. How loved. I envy her.
Carmela turns to me. “I’m so happy you’re here, Eleanor!
Finally, another girl in the family!” Her enthusiasm spills over, almost overwhelming.
She takes my hands in hers, leans in conspiratorially.
“I wanted to ask the extended family, but Leonardo insisted on keeping it small,” she says, flustered and eager.
“We weren’t sure your side would...” Her voice trails off as she sees father standing alone.
I look around at the dozens of well-dressed attendees, and this is only the closest family? “This is plenty of family. Many would say it's too many."
She flushes bright red and laughs.
Another woman approaches, older, with hair auburn like Carmela's. She moves with calm, steady grace, eyes sharp and assessing. Her glance silences Carmela mid-sentence. This must be Gianna Rossetti, Leonardo’s mother. My new mother-in-law. I try not to shrink under her gaze.
“Eleanor,” she says. My name rolls off her tongue, a soft Italian lilt. “I trust the ceremony wasn’t too strange for you.”
“Not at all,” I lie.
She smiles, almost pitying. It makes me feel like a child.
“Welcome to our family,” she says. She glides away before I can answer.
“Welcome?” The voice behind me is rasping, old and impatient. A small woman with wild white curls and a string of pearls as bright as her lipstick appears at my side. “They ain’t even kissed her properly yet!” This must be a grandmother.
“Let’s fix that,” Leonardo says, appearing at my side. He pulls me close, a hand firm at my waist. The kiss is longer this time, claiming me in front of everyone.
The old woman laughs, a dirty-sweet cackle. “There. Now she’s really one of us!”
“Eleanor, this is Nanna Antonella,” Carmela explains, trying not to giggle. “We just call her Nanna Toni.”
“I call her a pain in my ass,” says a deep voice behind us. I turn to see an older man with white hair and sharp green eyes. I recognize him immediately—Salvatore Rosetti. The king of the Rosetti empire. He looks at me, a lion studying his new territory. “Welcome to the family, ragazza.”
I swallow, nodding. “Thank you.”
His eyes shift to father. “Your man looks uneasy.”
“Wouldn’t you be, in his shoes?”
He chuckles, dark and knowing. “Don’t worry. We don’t bite.”
Another voice, smooth and teasing, cuts in. “Speak for yourself.” A young man with auburn hair and a dimpled smirk appears, flipping a silver coin. I recognize him from the fighting ring. “Matteo Rosetti,” he says, extending a hand. “Leo’s not the only charmer in the family.”
“The only one marrying a Price, though,” says a fourth voice, quieter and sharper. Matteo’s twin, Emilio, appears at his side. His eyes are gray and striking. “For now.”
“I could be next. My charms are irresistible.” Matteo winks. “How did we get so lucky as to get you, Eleanor?”
“I was wondering the same thing,” I say dryly.
“See, Matteo?” Rafe’s voice is blunt. “She fits right in.”
A tall, rugged man stands beside Leonardo. Rafe, the second oldest. His nose looks like it’s been broken a few too many times, and his dark hair is cropped close. He doesn’t bother shaking hands.
Emilio raises an eyebrow. “Why’d you go with the full mass? Don’t usually see that at an auction.”
I stare at him, anger simmering beneath my veneer. Why is this man, this stranger, saying I’ve been bought at auction? I mean, it’s true, but unpleasant to think about on my damn wedding day.
Salvatore grins. “I hear she put up a fight.”
“Did she?” Emilio asks.
“Like a wildcat,” Leonardo says, eyes locked on mine. “But we tamed her.”
I can’t tell if they’re joking. I hope they’re joking. Their laughter rings through the church.
I pull away from the crowd, trying to find some air. I have to get to Juliet before this day swallows me whole. She stands in the shadows, an outsider, a scared little ghost in a designer dress. I go to her, and for a second, she clings to me like she’ll never let go.
“It will be okay,” I say, struggling to sound sure. “I’ll be fine. So will you.” She doesn’t answer. “It’s not goodbye,” I insist. “You know that, right?”
“I know,” she says.
I pull away, heart heavy, and go to father.
“We’re finished here,” he says, cool and detached. “You’re a Rosetti now.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Remember why you did this.”
“For you, you mean?”
“For the family,” he corrects. “If you forget that, you’re of no use to anyone.” He doesn’t wait for my reply, just nods like he’s signing off on a deal and walks out with Juliet in tow.
I am alone in the Rosetti’s world.
Leonardo waits by the door, his presence as commanding as ever. He’s already holding my coat, a small gesture that feels like an extension of his control. I walk toward him, feeling my legs move but not sure how. The rest of the family gathers around us, warm and loud and overwhelming.
We step outside. The air is bitter against my bare skin. Leonardo guides me to a car—our car now. He holds the door open, watching me with those eyes that see right through everything.
I sit, the leather cold beneath me, and wait to see what I’ve done.
I look at Leonardo, at the hard line of his jaw. His expression doesn’t change. Eyes on the road, thoughts locked away where I can’t reach them. I wonder if he’s regretting this already. Regretting me.
My father’s warning circles. Remember why you did this. I slip the new gold ring off my finger and hold it tight in my palm. If I keep it there, I can pretend I’m still free. But who am I fooling? Not Leonardo. He knows I’m trapped. He helped trap me.
The engine hums beneath us, but inside the car it’s silent. I turn to the window. Glassy buildings reach for the clouds. The city should feel like home. I’ve spent my life learning its streets, its language. But today it’s just another stranger.
When I look back at Leonardo, he’s watching me. A quick glance, curious and intense. I slip the ring back onto my finger and brace myself for whatever’s coming.
The car turns, and the house looms ahead. The Rosetti siblings' mansion. It rises like a monster of steel and glass. It has the same soulless look as my father’s house, only bigger. Colder. I didn’t think anything could be.
Tall fences wrap around it. Security cameras glint in the gray light. A guard house sits by the entrance. More men, all in black. They watch us with steady eyes. I shiver and pull my coat tight around me.
We stop at the gate. One of the guards speaks into a radio, his voice crackling over the air. The gates swing open, heavy and slow. Leonardo drives through like he’s done it a thousand times.
We roll to a stop in front of the house. It’s modern and impersonal, all angles and empty surfaces. Even the windows look guarded, long and narrow like gun slits. I stare up at it, a knot tightening in my stomach. This is where I live now.
Leonardo gets out and comes around to my side. He opens my door and waits for me to move. My legs are made of iron, but I manage to swing them out, one after the other.
“You good?” he asks. The words are rough but not unkind.
“I’m fine.” My voice is thinner than I want it to be. I stand, stiff and unsteady. He watches me, making sure I don’t break before we even make it inside.
He holds out a hand, but I ignore it. Instead, I clutch my coat tighter, my breath forming small, white clouds in the cold air. It is unseasonably cool for April. He shrugs, amused, and leads the way. His strides are long and confident.
I trail behind. The weight of the house, of him, of everything, presses down on me. I follow him inside. The front hall stretches out before me. Cold marble under my feet. Everything echoes. Each breath, each footstep.
This is where I live now.
Leonardo’s already at the center of the room, coat off, looking back at me. He seems to fill the space, where I only feel lost in it.
“You coming?” he says, a slight edge to his voice.
I nod, quickening my pace. The faster I move, the sooner I’ll get used to this. I hope.
He shows me the rest of the house. Room after room, cavernous and spare. Living room. Dining room. Library. Each one as cold and lifeless as the last. It’s beautiful in an expensive, impersonal way. Art on the walls, all abstract and soulless. Like me, a last-minute addition to their collection.
I try to memorize the layout. All I manage is a vague sense of distance. This place is so big, so isolating. More like a gallery than a home.
“Never seen a place this nice?” Leonardo’s voice jolts me. I realize I’ve fallen behind. I catch up, my steps loud on the polished floor.
“Nice?” I echo, but it comes out more bitter than I mean it to.
He shrugs. “We can put in flowers or some shit, if that’s what you like.”
“It’s fine.” I don’t know what I like. Not really.
We stop in a long hallway. I see more doors than I can count. Endless rooms for one person to get lost in.
“This one’s Carmela's room,” Leonardo says. He gestures to the first door. He moves on to the next. “Office.” Another. “Spare.” He doesn’t stop, naming each door in quick succession, not letting me fall behind.
I trail him like a shadow. The words bounce off me, not sinking in. I feel small here. Small and silent.
The kitchen is as big as the rest of the house.
Shiny appliances. Countertops like surgical tables.
Everything sharp and sterile. I try to picture myself cooking here, but it’s absurd.
I was raised on takeout and caterers, on take-what-you-can-get-before-it’s-gone.
Meals weren’t about family. Just survival.
“Don’t know how to cook, do you?” Leonardo asks, and there’s that slight amusement again.
“I can learn.” I’m lying. We both know it.
I follow him through more hallways. The Rosettis’ voices echo in my mind. Welcome to the family, they said. It didn’t feel like a welcome. Not really. I don’t know why that bothers me.
Salvatore’s eyes, sharp and green, sizing me up like a new asset. Rafe, the second-oldest, his words blunt and dismissive. Not bothering to hide his dislike. I was a Price, an outsider.
But then there was Carmela. The only one who showed any true excitement or warmth. She is the only glimmer of hope in this family, as far as I can tell.
Leonardo stops, turns to face me. His eyes search mine, unflinching.
“This place is big, I know. You’ll get used to it.
” There’s more he wants to tell me. I know there’s more.
He waits, wants me to ask. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“The rest of my brothers and sisters will be here tomorrow. They’ve given us the night to get to know each other. ”
“A honeymoon,” I say. Does this stranger expect me to have sex with him?
Leonardo’s eyes narrow. “They’re not subtle, but they’re loyal.”
“I noticed.” Is that a command that I have to be loyal too, whether I like it or not? Screw that.
He takes a step closer. He’s intense, a fire burning just beneath the surface. “I meant what I said. We’ll tame you.”
I force myself to hold his gaze, but my heart beats fast. I hold up my hand with the wedding band and smile sweetly. “You already have.”
We both know I’m lying.