Chapter 7
T he vampire on screen bares his fangs, but I barely notice.
I've seen this episode of The Vampire Diaries at least six times.
Season three, episode fourteen—the one where Elena has to choose between the Salvatore brothers yet again.
The familiar dialogue washes over me like white noise as I curl deeper into the corner of my sofa.
Some people drink when they're stressed. I watch vampires fall in love with humans.
Family dinner. We've had them every Sunday night since I was a child, but tonight will be tense. I can feel it in the air, like the pressure before a thunderstorm.
I press pause on the remote, freezing Damon Salvatore mid-smirk. My finger traces the cut on my cheek, barely visible now, but still tender. The memory of last night floods back. The gunshots, the screams, the cold concrete floor of the panic room.
And Daniel.
Daniel Hayes with his steady hands and calm voice. The way he talked me through my panic attack without making me feel broken. The memory of his deep voice counting breaths with me sends an unexpected warmth through my chest.
So simple, yet so effective. He knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say. No pity in his eyes, just quiet understanding.
I've had therapists, doctors, and my overprotective brothers all try to help me through panic attacks before. None of them managed it with the effortless competence Daniel showed. He didn't hover or fuss. He just... fixed it.
I sigh and turn off the TV. No more vampires tonight. Real monsters are more pressing.
In my bathroom, I splash cold water on my face, careful of the healing cut.
I take my time getting ready, changing into black leggings and an oversized cream sweater that feels like armor against whatever's waiting downstairs. My hair goes up in a messy bun—no energy for anything else tonight.
The hallway stretches before me as I make my way toward the dining room. Voices drift up, then abruptly stop as I approach. Never a good sign in this house.
I pause at the doorway, taking in the scene. Everyone's already seated around our massive table. Damiano at the head, of course, with Zoe beside him. Enzo and Sienna sit together, his arm draped possessively around her chair. Alessio and Melania are across from them.
And then there's Daniel, looking completely out of place yet somehow fitting perfectly. He stands against the wall rather than sitting, ever the security detail even at family dinner.
Seven pairs of eyes turn to me at once.
"Sorry I'm late," I say, sliding into the empty chair beside Sienna. "Lost track of time."
Silence hangs heavy in the air. Ginerva appears with a bottle of wine, filling glasses around the table. She skips mine without comment—everyone knows I don't drink anymore.
"So," I say, unfolding my napkin across my lap, "what were you all discussing that required immediate silence when I walked in?"
Enzo shifts in his seat, avoiding my eyes. "Nothing important, Lu."
My brother, the world's worst liar. I arch an eyebrow at him. "Really? Because it looked like a funeral in here."
Damiano clears his throat, setting down his wine glass with deliberate care. "Actually, Lucrezia, there is something we need to discuss with you."
The formal use of my full name makes my stomach drop. Damiano only does that when something serious is happening.
"Let me guess," I say, trying for lightness I don't feel. "Another casino attack?"
"No," Damiano says, his eyes meeting mine directly. "This is about you, specifically."
I feel everyone watching me, gauging my reaction. My fingers clench around my water glass.
"About me how?" My voice comes out steadier than I expect.
Damiano exchanges a look with Enzo, who's practically vibrating with tension beside Sienna.
"The Sartori situation," Damiano begins carefully. "After the attack, they've made certain... demands."
"What kind of demands?" I ask, though something cold is already forming in my chest. I've been around this family long enough to know where this is going.
Daniel shifts his position against the wall, his face unreadable but his body tense. Something about his presence makes me sit up straighter.
"Bruno Sartori has proposed marriage," Damiano says bluntly. "To you."
The words hang in the air like smoke. I stare at my brother, waiting for the punchline that doesn't come.
"You can't be serious," I finally manage.
Enzo's jaw tightens. "We're not even considering it."
"Damn right we're not," I snap, pushing back from the table. "I'm not some medieval princess to be traded for political advantage."
"Lucrezia," Damiano says, his voice level but firm. "Sit down. Please."
Something in his tone makes me comply, though my hands tremble with anger.
"No one is trading you," Damiano continues. "I already told Riccardo that you're not on the table. But you needed to know what they proposed."
"Why?" I demand. "If you've already refused, why tell me at all?"
Damiano sighs, suddenly looking older than his years.
"Because your name was mentioned. You have the right to know that and because the situation is complicated.
The casino license suspension affects hundreds of employees.
Without that income, we're looking at financial strain across multiple businesses. "
"So my comfort is less important than money?" The words taste bitter on my tongue.
"That's not what I'm saying," Damiano rubs his temples. "
"We'll find another solution," Enzo interjects firmly. "That's what he is trying to tell you."
Damiano nods. "Exactly. I just wanted you to understand the stakes. You're family, Lucrezia. Nothing is more important than that. But I also don't want you to hear it later and not knowing what is going on."
Relief washes through me, but something still nags at the back of my mind.
Marriage. The word echoes in my head.
Daniel.
The name pops into my mind so suddenly it startles me. I glance across the room to where he stands, only to find his steel-blue eyes already fixed on me. Something electric passes between us, gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
Why him? Why would my brain conjure Daniel Hayes of all people?
His face has returned to its usual unreadable mask, but for a moment, I could have sworn I saw something there. Something that made my pulse jump in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
"What if they push the issue? What if they won't back down?" I ask. Knowing that in our world nothing is as simple as it looks like.
I keep my face blank as I watch the Feretti family drama unfold.
Lucrezia's spine stiffens like steel when Damiano mentions Bruno Sartori's proposal. Her fingers grip her water glass so tightly I half expect it to shatter. The flash of panic in her eyes is quickly replaced by anger—a good sign. Anger means fight, not freeze.
Enzo's reaction is pure protective fury. No surprise there. He'd burn down half of New York before letting anyone force his sister into marriage.
What interests me more is Damiano's body language. The Don sits with deceptive casualness, but I catch the tension in his shoulders. He's not as certain as he's pretending to be.
"There's another consideration," Damiano says, setting down his wine glass with deliberate care. "If we can't find another solution within the week, we may need to consider Bruno's proposal—with specific conditions, of course."
The room goes deadly silent. Even the staff freezes.
"What did you just say?" Lucrezia's voice is dangerously quiet.
"I said we might need to consider it if they push it further," Damiano repeats, his tone shifting to something harder. "With strict parameters that protect you."
"Protect me?" Lucrezia laughs, a brittle sound with no humor. "By selling me to Bruno Sartori?"
"No one is selling anyone," Damiano says firmly.
"After everything that's happened to me, you'd put me in another situation where I have no control?" Lucrezia cuts him off.
Damiano's jaw tightens. "That's not what I'm saying."
"It sounds exactly like what you're saying." Lucrezia pushes back from the table, standing up.
"Sit down, Lucrezia." Damiano's voice shifts, taking on the edge I've heard him use with enemies. The voice of the Don, not the brother.
Lucrezia doesn't flinch. "No."
The tension in the room thickens. I subtly shift my stance, moving slightly closer to the table.
I scan the faces around the table. Enzo looks torn between backing his sister and respecting his older brother. Alessio studies his plate, clearly uncomfortable. Zoe watches Damiano with concern.
No one speaks up. No one is certain where to stand. Because everyone knows that Damiano wouldn't sell her.
"We have responsibilities," Damiano says, his voice lowering. "All of us. Sometimes that means making difficult choices."
"Difficult for who?" Lucrezia demands. "You're not the one being handed over to a man who wants to marry you but doesn't even know you."
"It would be a business arrangement only," Damiano counters. "With clear boundaries."
The room falls silent again. I keep my eyes forward, but every instinct screams to move to Lucrezia's side. To stand with her. To protect her not just from outside threats but from this impossible position her family is putting her in.
But I'm security. Not family. Not her defender against her own brother.
"You think I want this?" Damiano slams his palm against the table, making the crystal glasses jump. "You think I'd ever choose this for you?"
Lucrezia doesn't back down. "Then don't."
"We have four hundred employees in that fucking casino," Damiano says. "Four hundred families who depend on us for their livelihood. And meanwhile a war has started. I can't know when and how it will end."