Chapter 21 Violet
VIOLET
Fiancée.
The admission makes the air leave my lungs. The room tilts sideways. For three heartbeats, I can’t move.
Fiancée. The word tastes like poison. The courtyard. The restaurant. His mouth between my thighs while I screamed his name. All of it contaminated now.
The rage crashes in.
“You son of a bitch.”
I’m moving before I process the decision. Past him, toward the hallway, toward my room, my prison, my cage, the place he put me in while he had a fiancée waiting somewhere outside these walls. My heels crack against the marble like gunshots.
“Violet—” His footsteps follow. “Let me explain—”
“Explain?” I whirl on him. We’re in the hallway now, halfway to my room, and I don’t care who hears. “Explain what? That you kidnapped me, kept me prisoner, made me—” My voice cracks. I hate the crack. Hate the weakness it reveals. “Made me feel things while you had a fiancée?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, that’s rich.” A laugh tears from my throat. Ugly and sharp. “That’s what every married man says. Every cheating piece of shit with a wife at home and a mistress on the side. ‘It’s not what you think, baby. She doesn’t understand me like you do.’”
His face goes pale. “I’m not—”
“You’re exactly that.” I back away from him.
Keep backing up until my shoulders hit my bedroom door.
“Just a darker, stronger version. You don’t sneak around behind her back.
You cage the other woman in your house. Keep her locked up like a dirty secret.
Make her want you while you pick out wedding rings. ”
“It’s an arrangement.” His jaw is tight. Hands fisted at his sides. “Political. I never wanted—”
“I don’t care what it is.” The words slice through the air between us. “You lied.”
“I never wanted to marry her.”
“But you were going to!” The words rip from somewhere deep. Somewhere I didn’t know could hurt this much. “Your father’s in there talking about speeches and rings and you’re engaged, Elio. While I’m here thinking—”
I stop.
Can’t finish that sentence. Can’t admit what I was thinking. What I was starting to feel.
“Thinking what?” His voice is quiet. Careful.
“Nothing.” I fumble for the door handle behind me. “Forget it.”
“Violet—”
The door opens. I stumble inside. Try to slam it in his face.
He catches it. Pushes through. Closes it behind him with a soft click that sounds like a prison cell locking.
“Get out.”
“No.”
“I said get out.”
“And I said no.” He stands between me and the door. Blocking my escape. As if there’s anywhere to escape to. “You don’t get to walk away without hearing the truth.”
“The truth?” Another bitter laugh. “The truth is, you lied. Every conversation, every meal, every time you touched me—” My voice breaks again. Fuck. “—you were lying. Showing me what ‘our life could be’ while another woman was planning your wedding.”
“Gabriella.”
The name stops me cold.
“What?”
“Her name is Gabriella Rossi.” His jaw tightens. “And I don’t want her. I’ve never wanted her. The engagement was arranged by my father when I was twenty-two. A political alliance between families. Blood oath to seal a treaty.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.” He takes a step closer. “Because Gabriella doesn’t want me either. She wants the power the marriage represents. The Rossi family wants access to Marchetti resources. My father wants control over my future.” Another step. “I’m a chess piece to them. Same as you are to Cicero.”
“Don’t.” My hand comes up. Palm out. Warning. “Don’t you dare compare us.”
“I’m not comparing. I’m explaining.” He stops just out of reach. “The engagement has been hanging over my head for twelve years. I’ve been finding excuses to delay. Deals to negotiate. Territories to secure. Anything to avoid—”
“To avoid what? Actually going through with it?” Contempt drips from every word. “Poor baby. Had to kidnap an American to get out of marrying his rich Italian fiancée.”
His eyes flash. “That’s not why I took you.”
“Then why?” I’m shouting now. Don’t care. “What happens in one week, Elio? What does Ferrante mean?”
He goes still.
“Tell me.”
Silence stretches. His jaw works. I watch the war play out across his face—what to reveal, what to hide, how much truth I can handle.
“Ferrantes are a rival family.” Each word comes out like it costs him something. “Hugo Ferrante controls territories in the north. He’s been pushing against Marchetti borders for years. Wanting what we have.”
“And?”
“And Cicero is full of empty threats.”
“What?”
“If I don’t marry Gabriella, the Rossi alliance falls apart. Cicero loses leverage with the Syndicate. His solution is to ally with the Ferrantes.” Elio’s voice is flat. “A bargaining chip to smooth over the insult of breaking the engagement.”
I can’t breathe. “Am I the bargaining chip?”
His hands clench at his sides, his silence confirming my suspicion.
“So I’m currency. That’s all I’ve ever been. To your father. To you. Something to be traded.”
“Not to me.”
“Bullshit.” I’m shaking now. From rage. From fear. From the horrible understanding that I never had any control. “You were going to marry Gabriella and keep me locked up here as your side piece. Fuck me when you wanted. Return to your wife when you were done. That was always the plan, wasn’t it?”
“No.” The word explodes from him. “That was never—”
“Then what? What was your grand plan, Elio? Keep me prisoner forever while you played house with someone else?”
“I was ending it.” His voice cracks. Actually cracks. “I was finding a way out. Looking for leverage against the Rossis, against my father—”
“Words.” I spit the syllable at him. “Just words. You’ve done nothing except lie to me since the moment we met.”
He stares at me.
Then he pulls out his phone.
“What are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer. His thumbs move across the screen, typing rapidly. Italian characters I can’t read from this distance. When he’s done, he turns the phone toward me.
A text message. To a contact listed as Gabriella Rossi.
I step closer despite myself. Read the words on the screen.
Il matrimonio è annullato. Troverò un altro modo per far felici entrambe le famiglie. Mi dispiace.
“What does it say?”
“The marriage is off. I’ll find another way to make both families happy. I’m sorry.” He holds my gaze. “Watch.”
He hits send.
The message delivers. A small checkmark appears. Then two, indicating it’s been read.
Three dots appear. Someone typing a response.
Elio turns the phone off. Puts it in his pocket.
“There.” His voice is rough. “It’s done.”
I stare at where the phone disappeared.
“You just...” Words fail. “You broke off an engagement. Via a text message.”
“Yes.”
“A twelve-year engagement. To a woman whose family has a blood oath with yours.”
“Yes.”
“By text.”
Something hot and ugly rises in my chest. Not relief. Not gratitude. Something darker.
“Wow.” The laugh that escapes is hollow. “I don’t know what I expected from a man who kidnapped me, but breaking a woman’s heart via text message really shouldn’t surprise me.”
His expression flickers. “Violet—”
“No, it makes sense.” I back away from him. “You’re exactly who I thought you were. Just a darker, stronger version of every asshole who ever cheated on a naive woman. The kind of man who makes promises he doesn’t intend to keep. Who lies to get what he wants. Who—”
“Stop.” The word tears from him. A plea, not a command.
“Why? Because I’m getting too close to the truth?”
“Because you’re wrong.” His voice is shaking. “Because you’re looking at me like I’m—”
He moves.
Fast. Too fast. Before I can react, my back hits the wall and his hands grip my face. His body cages me. His eyes—
His eyes are wild.
Not angry. Not controlled. Not the predator I’ve come to know.
Terrified.
“I don’t love her.” The words pour out in a rush. “I don’t want her. I have never wanted her. She was a name on a contract, a duty I was trying to escape, and the only thing—” His breath hitches. “—the only thing I’ve wanted— The only thing I’ve ever wanted is you.”
His hands are shaking. I can feel them trembling against my jaw. This man who breaks bones without flinching, who commands armies of guards, who terrorized me into submission… his hands are shaking.
“Don’t think less of me.” His forehead drops to mine.
Close enough that I feel his breath. See the desperation in his eyes.
“Please. I can take your hatred. I can take your fear. But don’t—” His voice breaks.
“Don’t compare me to them. Don’t think I’m just another man who lies to women while he takes what he wants. ”
Jesus Christ.
He’s falling apart.
Right here against the wall, caging me with his body, Elio Marchetti is coming undone. And it’s not because of Cicero’s threats. Not because of the Ferrantes, or the broken engagement, or the political shitstorm he just created.
It’s because I compared him to cheating men.
Because he’s terrified of what I think of him.
I touch his jaw before I let myself think.
He sucks in a breath like I’ve burned him.
“You think I’d marry her and keep you here like some—” He can’t finish.
“Elio...”
“Tell me how to fix this.” His eyes search mine. Desperate. Lost. “Tell me how to make you want me. How to be good for you. I don’t—” His voice cracks again. “I don’t know how to be good. I only know how to take. To control. But if there’s a way to make you—”
“Shh.”
The sound comes from me. Soft. Instinctive. The same noise I’d make hushing something wounded.
My thumb strokes his cheekbone, making his eyes flutter closed, and a shudder runs through his whole body.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispers. “I’ve never—” His arms wrap around my waist. Pull me closer. His forehead drops to my shoulder. “I’ve never wanted someone like this. Never cared what they thought of me.”
He’s holding me like I’m the only solid thing in the room.
I should push him away. Should use this moment of weakness to run. He’s vulnerable. Distracted. The door is right there.
Instead, my hand slides into his hair.
He makes a sound against my shoulder. Something broken and grateful. His arms tighten.
What are you doing, Murphy?
I don’t know. Don’t understand why I’m standing here cradling a man who kidnapped me. Why his desperation makes my chest ache. Why the feel of him trembling against me triggers an instinct to comfort rather than flee.
“I only want you.” The words are muffled against my shoulder. “Just you. Only you. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to be someone you could—”
His voice gives out.
My throat closes.
Tell him the truth.
The truth I’ve been hiding even from myself.
When Cicero said wedding rings, something in my chest shattered. Not because I was scared for myself, though I was. Because the thought of Elio marrying someone else, belonging to someone else, felt like losing something I’d claimed without realizing I was claiming it.
You want him.
The admission echoes through my skull. Undeniable now.
Have wanted him since the courtyard, maybe before. Through every touch, every orgasm, every time I told myself we shouldn’t while my body screamed yes. The walls I built are crumbling. Have been crumbling for days.
But I can’t say it.
Can’t give him that power. That weapon.
Instead, I say something else. Something equally true.
“You make me feel safe.”
He goes still against me.
“What?”
“When Cicero was in that room...” I whisper. “When he was looking at me like I was nothing. Like I was furniture. A problem to be taken care of.” I swallow hard. “I’ve never felt so small. So worthless. Like I could disappear and no one would notice.”
His arms tighten.
“And then you walked in.” My hand strokes through his hair. “You put yourself between us. Blocked him from getting to me. And for the first time in my life, I felt...” The word sticks. “Protected.”
He pulls back. Just enough to see my face. His eyes are wet.
“I hate that you make me feel safe.” The confession spills out.
“You’re the reason I need protection in the first place.
You kidnapped me. Locked me up. Made me a target for your father and his enemies.
And somehow—” My voice catches. “Somehow you’re also the only person in this entire fucking fortress who makes me feel like I matter. ”
“You do matter.” His voice is fierce. Raw. “More than anything.”
“I know.” And that’s the terrifying part. “To Cicero, I was nothing. A variable. Something to be erased. But you...” I touch his face again. “Your obsession means I exist. That I’m worth something to someone, even if that someone is a monster.”
“I am a monster.”
“I know.”
“And you still...”
“I don’t know what I am.” The truth. The horrible, complicated truth. “I don’t know if this is Stockholm syndrome, or survival instinct, or something worse. But right now, with your father planning to use me, with one week until—”
“I won’t let that happen.” Steel returns to his voice. “One week to find leverage against Cicero. Against the Rossis. If I can’t—” He pauses. “I’ll take you somewhere he can’t reach. I’ve been taking steps to cut ties anyway. We could walk away from all of it.”
“From the empire?”
“From everything.” His eyes hold mine. “I would burn it all for you.”
Christ.
I believe him. That’s what scares me the most. I actually believe he’d destroy everything he’s built, everything his family represents, just to keep me.
“Stay close to me.” His hands cup my face again. Gentle now. “Until this is resolved. Until I find a way to neutralize Cicero. Stay close, and he won’t touch you. Won’t even look at you.” His jaw tightens. “He won’t touch what’s mine.”
What’s mine.
The possessive language should infuriate me. Should make me push him away and remind him I’m not property.
Instead, it wraps me up like a warm blanket.
Not because I want to be owned. Because in this place where people get erased and traded and murdered, belonging to Elio means I won’t disappear. Maybe that’s all safety means when you’re caged.
I’m choosing him.
Choosing the monster I know over the monsters I don’t.
“I don’t forgive you.” The words come out quiet but firm. “For kidnapping me. For keeping me locked up, away from my job, my family. For lying.”
“I know.”
“I might never forgive you.”
“I know that too.”
My forehead tips against his. My hand stays in his hair. His breath mingles with mine.
“But I’m staying close. For now.”
His eyes close. Relief flooding his features.
“For now,” he echoes.