Chapter 30
Aurelia
FLASHBACK
Six years ago
Why the fuck did I think I could trust him?
“What did you call me?” The words come out before I even realize I’ve moved. Goosebumps rising all over my body, pushing him away from me.
He straightens slightly. “Uh, Aurelia.”
“No,” I say, stepping around him, my throat tightening. “Why did you call me princess?”
He doesn’t answer. Just stands there, silent.
“Hello?” It comes out harder now, snapped back to reality.
God, I wish I could see his face right now.
The dark makes everything worse. My pulse won’t slow, and my head won’t stop spinning.
What the fuck did I get myself into?
“Oh,” I whisper, pacing around his bike, wondering if I’ll be able to drive it.
He exhales, long and steady. “Relax, Aurelia. The girl you were with inside told my friend that she was with a mafia princess. I just put two and two together.”
I swallow, my mouth going dry. “What?”
“Gen,” he continues, tone even. “She’s been sleeping with my friend for a while. She told him she was ‘forced to hang out with the mafia princess.’”
I don’t move—I can’t.
“Which, by the way,” he adds quietly, “he and I were both surprised to find out you even existed.”
Forced.
Forced to hang out with the mafia princess, as in, she didn’t want to spend time with me.
I start pacing, half to think, half to hide the sting clawing at my throat. But his voice cuts through the night again.
“A secret Italian princess on Russian territory,” he says, almost to himself. “That’s new.”
Then, softer—closer: “But Aurelia…”
I stop when I feel his presence beside me. His hands finding mine.
“I won’t tell anyone.”
My face lifts.
“I feel very protective of you,” he murmurs, fingers brushing my chin until I meet the darkness where his eyes should be. “I’ll keep your secret.” Then, he bends until his breath skims my cheek. “I swear.”
Something in me unravels at the sound of his voice. My body relaxes a bit, but I know the reality of this situation. No one was ever supposed to know about my existence and connection to the De Luca Bloodline. Especially not a Russian.
“Okay,” I whisper, “thank you.”
“I think you should get rid of Gen, by the way. She uses her sweetness as a form of manipulation. And right now, you’re getting manipulated into thinking she cares for you. She’s protecting her family, so I don’t blame her. But she’s not exactly the company a secret mafia princess should keep.”
A tear slips before I can stop it. I swipe it away quickly, hoping he didn’t notice. Maybe I’ll never have real friends. Just company my father buys me.
“Aurelia,” he says softly. “Please talk to me.”
I stay quiet.
“That kiss…” he starts again, voice rougher now. “I just—need that not to be the last time.”
My chest tightens. “I don’t know what to say. I hate that you know this about me, and I know nothing about you.”
“Then let me fix that.”
He catches my hand again, pulling me gently toward the cliff edge. The ocean wind whips my hair around, cool and salt-heavy. He sits easily, legs dangling over a hundred feet like it’s nothing at all.
Reluctantly, I sit beside him—far enough to feel safe, close enough to feel stupid for thinking I am. The city lights below cast a faint glow, outlining his profile in pale silver, and for the first time, I can almost see his face.
“I’m not a good person,” he says.
My head jerks toward him. “What?”
He gives a short laugh—quiet, humourless.
“Don’t get me wrong. Sometimes I want to be, sometimes I want to give away some of my control, some of my evil.
Leave everything behind. Maybe start over somewhere clean, with someone who makes me feel…
human.” His jaw tenses. “But other times, I want to kill everyone who upsets me. Watch them beg for pity and then slit their throats.”
I look around, almost confirming that we’re still alone up here.
Because, yeah, that’s not terrifying at all.
This would have been good information to know prior to sticking my tongue down his throat.
“Why?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Why?” He glances over, probably confused that I would ever ask such a ridiculous question.
“Yeah, why do you feel that way?” I continue, I’m no stranger to death or murder, but finding out why he feels this way will tell me how much danger I’m in right now.
“My father wanted me this way.” His head swings back, facing the city beneath us.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly, and I mean it. Because I know that feeling—of being shaped into something you never wanted to be.
A smile etches his face. “You are very interesting, Aurelia, but I don’t want you to pity me, I want you to trust me.”
“I… I wasn’t supposed to be born. I’ve been locked away my whole life, never allowed to go out, never allowed to be free. I want to trust you, but you’re holding a big secret of mine.”
He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches me with that intense look.
Then, “I’ll tell you a secret.”
I blink, surprised. “Really?”
He nods. “Yes. But you can’t tell anyone either.”
“I promise I won’t,” I say, leaning closer without realizing it.
* * *
I try to process his words, but I can’t. My mind keeps glitching, looping back over fragments that don’t fit together. My papa? Running… all that? And the Bratva? The Orlovs?
It can’t be true. It can’t.
Even if Viktor is capable of something horrible, my papa would never. He loves me. He respects me. He… he cares about me.
“There’s no way that’s true,” I manage to say, my voice cracking a little.
He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “I wish it wasn’t. The thought makes me sick.”
“My papa… he’s a good man,” I insist, even though part of me wants to scream at the universe for making me hear this.
He looks at me, giving me a knowing look, so I continue, “Yes, I know he’s done bad things, but his heart is good.”
I want to believe what I’m saying. I need to believe it. But my stomach is twisting with the thought.
“You are… magnificent, Aurelia,” he says out of nowhere, and I feel my face heat up.
I hate that he’s looking at me like I’m some stupid innocent kid. I just… don’t know how to feel anymore.
I cross my arms. “Don’t look at me like that.”
He smirks faintly. “Like what?”
“Like I’m… naive.”
He doesn’t deny it. Which makes it worse.
Before I can push back again, his voice cuts through the air. “Tell me about the guy from the club.”
My whole body goes still.
“You’re kidding,” I blurt.
He raises a brow. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”
I think he knows he’s breaking my brain.
“You just told me my father—” I choke on the words. “You just told me my papa is running a—an extensive sex trafficking ring with Viktor Orlov. That they kill the women who birth their sons, and hand over the daughters to the other family as—”
“As a way to keep the peace,” he finishes quietly.
My fingers curl into fists, my knees feel weak. I want to scream, cry, run. I want to tell him he’s wrong, that he has to be wrong.
“And then,” I press on, shaking now, “you tell me Viktor’s betraying him? That he’s trading lives and loyalty for power off the island, with some type of gang?”
“Yes,” he says simply.
“No,” I manage to choke out, while trembling.
“Yes, princess,” he says quietly, my chest tightening at the nickname. “… and remember, that’s a secret.”
I turn away, staring out at the city below. The lights blur, and the world feels tilted, as if the ground could drop out from under me.
I have to keep this from Enzo? From everyone? How am I supposed to protect them?
Keep your shit together, Ace.
“Why… why are you telling me this?”
“Because, like I said, I feel protective of you. You should know what’s going on around you. Who you’ve been living with.”
I swallow hard. I want to cry, but I also want to laugh and scream. My mind is spinning so fast it hurts.
We sit in silence for a moment. A really long moment. I think at least forty minutes have passed. My chest is tight, my head is spinning, and my thoughts are a mess.
“I have to go,” I say suddenly, standing before I can think better.
He follows, moving smoothly, silently. Before I can take a full step, his hand wraps around my arm, pulling me back, his lips claiming mine fiercely.
Hard, fast, and real. My knees go weak, my chest races, and all the chaotic thoughts in my head stop. Just for a second, I breathe.
“This has been an insane day,” I manage to whisper, half laughing, half panicked, still pressed against him.
“Hey,” he murmurs, lips brushing mine with that infuriating grin, “at least you got your first kiss.”
I can’t stop the shaky laugh that escapes me. I want to shove him, kiss him harder, tell him to leave, tell him to stay. My brain can’t even pick one.
When we finally break apart, he rests his forehead against mine. The wind is whipping my hair everywhere, and I’m hyper-aware of every little thing—his heat, the smell of his jacket, the way his fingers feel on my skin.
“You’re braver than I thought,” he says quietly. “Stronger.”
I laugh, half because it’s true and half because it feels ridiculous to be complimented right now. “You think you know me?” I ask, and the words come out angrier than I meant.
“No,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing ever. “But I want to.”
I take a shaky breath. The cliff, the dark, the city below, everything—it’s dizzying.
He tilts his head, voice soft, almost too quiet. “You can trust me, Aurelia. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not now. Not ever.”