Chapter 26 Roran
Roran
Inever thought I’d beg a man again. Not after everything. But this time, I swear it would be the last.
Every step toward him is heavy with the weight of what I’m about to face. I’ll never trust a man to take care of me and Diana—not fully, not ever again. But Maleciandro… maybe he’s different. Maybe he hates my father enough to do what I never could. Enough to protect her when I can’t.
Better to stay here, working with Diana under their watch, than risk being shipped off to Miami with that monster, leaving her at the mercy of a man who doesn’t even know the meaning of the word father. The thought twists my chest like a vise, and I can taste the tension in my mouth.
The elevator doors open, and Maleciandro’s grip tightens on my arm, pushing me forward.
Not painfully—but firm. Every muscle under his grip seems coiled, a warning and a shield at once.
I flinch slightly, feeling how tense he’s gotten with me in this tight space, but I keep my face calm, forcing my resolve into the smallest lines of my body.
When we climbed up the stairs from the training room, I heard Alessio throwing a jab about how his parents were upstairs now—together—and how he left before the “noise” started.
Whatever the hell that meant.
But the second he said it, Maleciandro looked like he wanted to claw his ears off and bleach his brain.
The way they talk to each other—the way they tease—it’s so foreign. Is that how real families act?
I don’t even remember the last time my father really smiled, let alone laughed. Not even next to his golden boy. And the way Maleciandro’s aunt and uncle treat him—the way they speak to him—it’s not fear. It’s something else. Respect. Maybe even love.
I never even dared to crave something like that.
A family who actually has your back.
He’ll save Diana. He has to.
Now, more than ever, I believe it. He gets what she means to me. I can’t trust men—but I can trust that.
The elevator doors open on the third floor. I move to step out first, before he has the chance to drag me. I need him to know I’m serious. I’m in. I’m going to do whatever is needed for us to stay safe. For Diana.
But he doesn’t move.
“Alessio, go home. Go get your aunt, we’ll leave from the beach house.” He nods toward his cousin, who doesn’t argue or jab for once. Just leaves.
That’s when I know something’s serious.
What beach house?
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a beach outside of the ones on the Konfetki laptop’s auto-generated screensaver. I never even let myself think it was a luxury I could have. Do I even own a swimsuit?
And this is New York.
There’s no beach house here... not one that could belong to them, anyway.
The doors close on us again, then open quickly at the fourth floor—only for a young girl’s face to pop into the elevator.
She blinks twice, scanning my dress from head to toe before shifting her gaze to Maleciandro.
“The forever sworn bachelor bringing home a bride? That’s a look I never thought I’d get to see.”
She snorts and jumps into the elevator.
“Chris…” he warns, but she doesn’t even blink. She leans against the wall as the doors shut again.
“Don’t Chris me. I’m heading up to see Kayla… and that’s gonna be a fun piece of gossip,” she teases. Before he can fire back, the doors open again on the fifth floor.
Kayla? Chris?
How many women live in his house?
The sworn bachelor?
He looks like the kind of man who has women falling at his feet every day.
I would too, if I didn’t know better.
She steps out first, flipping her long, dark-blonde hair over her shoulder. Just as Maleciandro takes a step after her—dragging me with him—she turns back, locking eyes with me.
“You’re very pretty. Don’t waste your time on my cousin. He’s no romantic.”
I bite my lip to hold back a laugh at her wink, just as she sidesteps Maleciandro’s attempted kick to her ass with ease. They’re cousins.
This house is full of strong-willed women.
In our house, women stay quiet. Keep their heads down. Hidden.
“See? You don’t want to end up beaten up like this for telling the truth.”
She sticks her tongue out and bolts for the only door at the end of the corridor. Reaches it fast. Scans her finger on the lock.
“You give a woman access to your place like that?” I gasp before I can stop myself, sneaking a glance at Maleciandro to see if he heard me.
My heart skips when I meet his gaze—eyebrow raised. Shit.
“What does that have to do with her being a woman? She’s family. Family is above all and everything.”
The words hit like a slap, and I blink twice.
No one in my family would ever put me above anything.
Except my sister.
“Come,” he says, tugging me forward into the now-open apartment. His steps are faster now, almost urgent.
He lives here alone? Is their boss here?
I remember something I heard my father say… their boss is called the capo.
“Kayla!” he roars toward the staircase.
But I don’t even turn—I’m frozen by the view. The whole city sprawls before us through floor-to-ceiling glass walls.
Instead of gaudy royal golds like our old monarchy-like horrible home style—this place is modern. Wide. Open. Breathing in the space feels like freedom I’ve never had the luxury even to imagine.
If I live long enough… maybe I’d let myself wish for it. One day.
“I need you to give her something comfortable to wear,” he says, shoving me forward. I nearly fall, but his grip catches me at the last second.
I straighten and find myself staring at another stranger. Younger—looks around Diana’s age.
She’s gorgeous. Long, jet-black hair flows down to her hips. Skin like porcelain.
But her eyes—
One silver gem, identical to Maleciandro’s. The other, a shimmering turquoise gemstone. I really don’t understand what’s going on with this genetic weird eye color.
She’s much shorter than Diana, though. Her head barely reaches my shoulder.
“You should ask Chris. She’s taller. My clothes won’t fit her height,” she says, studying me curiously. “Who is she?”
“Don’t get me involved. I’m not sharing my clothes,” Chris says, reappearing behind her. “I don’t even know how long Malec plans to play with her.”
Maleciandro exhales—a long, exhausted sigh. He’s not even mad. Just… done.
“Chris. Please. She’s not my woman, and I’m not even slightly interested. Stop with your weird little tests. You always do that.”
Chris furrows her brows, staring him down like she’s either trying to read his mind—or set it on fire.
Then she suddenly smiles, stepping up beside me.
“Why didn’t you say so?!”
She turns to me with a grin. “I’m Chris. This is Kayla—Malec’s sister.” Her smile stretches wide, flashing perfect, pearl-white teeth. She looks like she belongs on a magazine cover.
So she’s the sister Maleciandro mentioned…
“Sorry for the attitude. Malec’s not used to having women around other than us, so… every girl who clung to him before, we tried to scare off. Just to see if she’d fight for it,” she chuckles, while Maleciandro runs a hand over his face.
Only now do I realize—my body’s finally relaxing.
Every knot I had since arriving here has started to unravel.
They’re nothing like my uncle and father described.
They always said the Spallos were the biggest threat to our territory. Spoke about them with a quiet kind of fear they never admitted out loud.
Especially Solas.
But this feels like… a real family. A weird one, sure. But real.
No one’s silent. No girl keeps her head down.
Even in front of a man like Maleciandro.
Why did I imagine the worst?
“Could you let go of her hand? You’re cutting off her circulation,” Chris says, prying at Maleciandro’s grip.
“Chris,” he mutters, taking a sharp breath through his nose. “You remember your sparring training?”
He turns to her, waiting.
“I could do it in my sleep. Why?” she asks, confused. Then he glances between me and her like he’s sharing some code.
“Oh… that’s why,” she says, and everything in her face shifts.
That’s why—what?
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Let her go. She has nowhere to run here, too.”
She says it quickly, and finally—finally—he lets go of my hand. The sudden chill of the AC stings the spot where his warmth lingered, like I just took off a piece of clothing.
He really thinks I’m a threat?
“I don’t know if I should be offended or flattered that you think I’ll make trouble,” I dare to say.
Kayla snorts in front of me.
“Let’s go.” Chris grabs my arm instead, tugging me toward the staircase.
“I don’t think you’ll make trouble,” Maleciandro calls from behind us. “I know you are trouble.”
But instead of following, he turns and walks the other way—toward a locked door at the far end of the first floor.
My gaze lingers on him as Chris leads me toward the stairway, Kayla walking silently on my other side.
Even without looking directly at them, I can feel their eyes on me—curious, observant—digging into my skin.
Somehow, it’s more uncomfortable than the tight corset wrapped around my ribs.
“You don’t need to worry. We won’t eat you,” Chris smirks.
She’s not gripping me hard. She’s not threatening me. She’s just holding my arm like we’ve known each other for years—like we’re two best friends off to do something fun.
I don’t know if I should be more alert… or surrender to this strange, unfamiliar comfort.
“I’m not worried,” I lie, turning slightly toward Kayla.
I think I’m lying.
I’m worried. A lot. Aren’t I?
So why doesn’t my body feel tense around them—like it should?
Even back home, when one of the other maids sat too close or walked into my room, I felt the need to protect my space.
But not here.
Not with his aunt.
Not with his sister.
Not with him.
“So… who exactly are you to my brother?” Kayla finally asks as we climb the stairs to the second floor.
At least—I think it’s the second floor. I was too busy staring into her strange, beautiful eyes to count.
Either they’re too young to be involved in whatever shady things Maleciandro’s doing… or maybe they just don’t let the women in on it.
Maybe Maleciandro’s testing me.
Maybe he’s trying to see if I’ll keep my word when I said I’d stay and follow him.
“I’m Roran,” I say, forcing a polite smile and keeping it vague. “Nice to meet you both.”
“That’s not what I asked—”
“Kayla,” Chris cuts in with a pointed throat-clear. “Let’s get her out of that horrible dress first.”
Kayla glances between us, shrugs, and leads the way into a vast, open studio-like space. Milky pink glass walls divide the area into nearly see-through rooms, and at the far end, a massive bed sits against another glass wall, framing the skyline like a living painting.
The sun’s just starting to set, casting soft gold over the city.
It looks like something out of a dream.
“Come on,” Kayla says, stepping toward a corner space behind one of the glass panels.
Chris and I follow, my eyes scanning every detail around me.
One breath at a time. Don’t get overwhelmed.
“Here. These should work.” Kayla hands me a cream tank top and a pair of white shorts.
I’ve never touched anything like this before—soft and smooth, like silk and something even finer.
She lives like a literal princess.
Not a worry in the world. Nothing pressing her down.
And still… my chest aches with each blink. A hollow, twisting weight I can’t shake.
The cream-white dressing sofa is in the center. The soft pink round carpet under our feet. Closets full of shoes, jewelry, and designer clothes all around us. Everything here feels impossibly delicate, untouched by struggle or worry.
This isn’t just a different life. It’s a different universe.
“Are you going to keep staring?” Kayla sighs. “Go change.”
She rests her hand lightly on my shoulder—
And suddenly every hair on the back of my neck stands up.
What… what is that feeling?
She tilts her head slightly, blinking twice, then closes her eyes as if bracing for something.
When she opens them again, her eyes shimmer—and tears gather at the corners.
“Are you—?”
“Change first,” Chris cuts in again, sharp but calm. She takes Kayla’s arm gently and leads her out of the dressing area before she can say another word.
I finally exhale.
And when I turn to my right, I freeze at the sight of my reflection.
Who is that woman staring back at me?
I don’t belong in a white dress.
Not in layers of fake makeup.
And definitely not in a room like this—where every corner screams wealth and ease.
Even in my father’s mansion, I only ever passed through the grand halls. I wasn’t meant to live in them.
I always went straight back to the workers’ quarters with Diana after the Konfetki. That was the only place we were allowed to exist.
I press a hand over my chest, just to feel something solid. Something real.
That’s when I hear it, soft voices on the other side of the glass.
“You didn’t just use your powers on her…” Chris’s voice. Sharp. Accusing.
A pause.
“Shhh!” Kayla hisses.
Then silence.
I don’t move. I don’t breathe.
Powers?
My mind scrambles, replaying the moment Kayla touched me. The tears. The shift in the air. The way my body reacted like it was touched by electric shock wearing a silk glove.
I step back from the mirror, suddenly too hyper-aware of everything around me—this too-soft room, that glass wall, the luxurious clothes in my arms, and the fact that I have no idea what kind of house I’ve walked into.