Chapter 1 #2
This is my life. This has always been my life.
I've known since I was a little girl that I would be married off for the family's benefit, that my value lay in what alliance I could bring, what connections I could forge.
I've been groomed for this, polished and perfected like a diamond meant to be sold.
And I've accepted it, because what choice did I have?
But acceptance and wanting are two very different things. And that difference is suddenly hitting me far too hard.
I reach up and touch one of the earrings. My mother wore these on her wedding day. I wonder if she felt like this too, like she was being led to slaughter in a beautiful dress. I wonder if she ever regretted it.
Down the hall, I can hear the sounds of final preparations—the clink of crystal, the murmur of staff moving through rooms, and the low rumble of male voices.
Romeo must be here already, and probably Luca too.
My brother's right hand, his best friend, the man who's been a fixture in our house for as long as I can remember.
The man I've been in love with since I was sixteen years old.
I push that thought away as soon as it surfaces, burying it deep where it can't hurt me.
Luca is off-limits in every possible way.
He's Romeo's best friend, he works for my family, and even if none of that mattered, he's made it abundantly clear since I came back from boarding school that he sees me as nothing more than his best friend's little sister.
The easy affection he used to show me is gone, replaced by professional distance and careful politeness.
It shouldn't hurt as much as it does.
I take a deep breath and start to walk down the hall to the entryway of the mansion.
The first floor has been transformed, even more polished and decorative than usual—not unlike me.
Every surface gleams, every flower is perfectly arranged, every detail is exactly as it should be.
Our chef has outdone himself with the menu, and the dining room table will be set with our finest china and crystal.
It's a display of wealth and power, subtle but unmistakable.
This is what you could have, it says. This is what an alliance with the Ciresas means.
I find Romeo in the living room, standing by the window with a glass of whiskey in his hand.
He's dressed in a tailored dark suit that probably cost more than most people make in a month, his dark hair perfectly styled, and his expression unreadable.
When he sees me, something flickers across his face—a hint of guilt mingled with sympathy.
"Giulia," he says, and his voice is gentler than usual. "You look beautiful."
I wince. My brother loves me, in his way, but he’s also a diagnosed sociopath.
I’m the only person he ever felt an emotion for, before he met Savannah.
Savannah’s ability to make him feel romantic love is the reason he became so obsessed with her and fought so hard for her.
His affection for me is something I’ve never taken for granted, but how gentle and careful he’s being now is a testament to what’s being set in motion tonight.
"Thank you." I move to stand beside him, looking out at the driveway where cars will soon be arriving. "Are you staying for dinner?"
"Dante wants me here. Show of family unity." He takes a sip of his drink, and I can feel him watching me. "Are you okay?"
The question surprises me even more. Romeo isn't usually one for emotional check-ins. "I'm fine."
"You don't have to do this, you know. Not if you don't want to."
I almost laugh at that. I can see he means it, but we both know it's not true. "Yes, I do. Papa made that very clear. You’re the heir, Romeo, you can get away with a lot that I can’t. You know that this isn’t optional."
Romeo's jaw tightens. "He's still angry about Savannah. He's taking it out on you."
"He's doing what he thinks is best for the family." The words taste bitter in my mouth, but I say them anyway. "And he's right. Someone needs to stabilize things after… everything that happened."
"That's not your responsibility."
"Isn't it?" I meet his eyes, and I see my own frustration reflected back at me. "I'm a Ciresa, Romeo. This is what we do. This is what's expected of us. I don’t begrudge you getting to do things differently, but it’s just not going to be the same for me. It never was."
He looks like he wants to argue, but before he can, I hear footsteps behind us. I turn, and my breath catches in my throat.
Luca.
He's walking into the room, and the sight of him makes everything else fade into the background.
He's wearing a charcoal suit that fits him perfectly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and muscular build.
His short dark hair is styled back from his face, showing off his sharp jawline and those green eyes that have haunted my dreams for years.
The gold chain around his neck catches the light, and I can see the edge of a tattoo peeking out from under his collar.
He's the most beautiful man I've ever seen, and looking at him hurts.
"The first car just pulled up," he says to Romeo, his voice low and professional. Then his eyes flick to me, just for a second. "Giulia."
"Luca." I keep my voice steady, neutral, giving nothing away. I swear I hear it tremble the slightest bit, but if anyone else does, no one gives it away.
There's a moment where we just look at each other, and I wonder if he can see it—the wanting, the longing, the desperate hope that maybe, somehow, things could be different. But then he looks away, his expression carefully blank, and I know the answer.
He doesn't see me. Not the way I want him to.
The distance between us feels like an ocean, and I'm drowning in it.
This is how it's been since I came home—polite exchanges, nothing like the easy friendship we used to have.
When I was younger, before boarding school, Luca would ruffle my hair and tease me.
He'd answer my endless questions about his work with Romeo, would sometimes let me tag along when they weren't doing anything dangerous.
He treated me like a little sister, and I was content with that because I was too young to want anything more.
But then I turned sixteen, and everything changed.
I remember the exact moment I realized I was in love with him.
It was summer, and he and Romeo were in the gym, going through combat moves together.
I was supposed to be studying, but I'd snuck out to watch them. Luca had his shirt off, his skin gleaming with sweat, and I’d felt something looking at him that I never had before.
He was beautiful and dangerous and completely unaware that I was watching him with my heart in my throat.
I know now that first moment wasn’t love, of course—it was lust, pure and simple. But I spent the whole summer after that day memorizing every detail of his face, cataloging every smile, every laugh, every moment of kindness. And I fell so completely in love with him that I knew I'd never recover.
For the next three years, I tried to forget him and convince myself it was just a crush, just adolescent infatuation that would fade with time and distance. For the remaining two years of boarding school, I tried not to think about him at all when I wasn’t home.
But it didn't fade.
If anything, it got worse. I spent my last year at boarding school lying in my narrow bed at night, my hand between my legs, imagining it was Luca touching me.
I would picture his hands on my skin, his mouth on mine, his body pressing me into the mattress.
I imagined what his voice would sound like when he said my name in the dark, what his weight would feel like on top of me, what it would be like to finally, finally have him the way I wanted him.
I would come thinking about him, biting my pillow to muffle my moans, and then I would lie there in the dark feeling guilty and ashamed and desperately, achingly lonely.
Because I knew it would never happen. I knew that Luca saw me as nothing more than Romeo's little sister, someone to be protected and kept at a distance. And even if he did want me—which he clearly didn’t and still doesn’t—it would never be allowed.
Romeo would kill him. My father would kill him.
The entire family would see it as a betrayal.
So I buried those feelings as deep as I could and told myself they would fade when I came home and saw him again. That reality would kill the fantasy.
But reality has only made it worse. Now I see him almost every day, and every interaction is a fresh wound.
Every polite greeting, every moment he looks at me with those blank, professional eyes—it's killing me. And worse are the moments when I feel a sliver of connection with him, like when I helped protect Savannah from her insane ex-fiancé not all that long ago. Luca was there, bringing men to back us up, and I saw the appreciation in his eyes when he realized I’d stood my ground, that I was braver and stronger than he’d probably ever realized before.
Those moments don’t happen often. And I don’t think they’re what I wish they were.
"I should go greet our guests," I say quickly, and I don't wait for a response before I walk away.
The first to arrive is Marco Ferri. He looks to be in his mid-forties, average height, thinning hair, with a face that's more distinguished than handsome.
But he's wealthy, well-connected, and his family controls significant territory in the northern part of the state.
He greets my father with the easy familiarity of old business associates, shakes Romeo's hand, and then turns to me.
"Signorina Ciresa," he says, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Your father has told me so much about you."