Chapter 24
GIANA
I 'm pushed into a chair, a rough hand clamping down on my shoulder while Aurelio pours himself and his guest a drink.
The room sprawls around me—a penthouse saturated in luxury, with floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the city's twinkling lights. But the splendor of Aurelio's wealth is lost on me; it's a gilded cage.
He raises his glass in a mock toast, eyes glinting menacingly under the low, cool-white lights. “To my future wife, a smart little bird for returning to her rightful owner,” he drawls, and the shadows dance at the edge of his mouth. He’s deliberately taunting me with the word ‘owner.’
Aurelio's guest, Frank, a burly man, watches me with eyes as cold as shards of ice. He, too, raises his glass, echoing his host's toast with a chuckle that sends shivers down my spine. He takes a swig from his glass, whiskey sloshing onto his moustache as he swallows.
After I jumped out of the car, I rushed down an alley, finding a hiding place quickly because I knew Caelian would come after me, and I needed to get away. I had to get back to Aurelio if I wanted to do this my way—kill the son of a bitch for touching me and threatening my little brother.
If I had gone back to the estate with Caelian, he never would have let me leave, and together with his brothers, they would have dealt with Aurelio their way. And that’s not what I want. I want it my way. It’s what I’m owed.
The moment I returned to the fundraiser, Aurelio dragged me out of there, livid, spitting out threats like a Christmas list.
Now we’re here in this fancy penthouse, and I obey like the good girl I pretend to be—not because I respect his authority, but because it serves my purpose to appear submissive for now.
Aurelio walks over and holds out a glass of champagne for me. I hesitate, glaring up at him as I cross my legs. But his expression’s a silent warning, so I take the glass. For all I know, he might have roofied the thing, so I make a show of raising it to my lips but not taking a sip.
His eyes lock on to mine, and for a moment, those dark orbs flicker with something akin to amusement. He's enjoying this. The power play. The control.
“So, Caelian resorted to kidnapping. How did you get away?” He takes a seat, and Frank remains at the bar, leaning against the black granite.
“The car stopped at a red light. I jumped out. Ran. And that was that.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
“You don’t have to. I’m here, aren’t I? And that’s all that matters to you, right?” I’m careful not to be too pliant as to raise suspicion. He knows I’m stubborn, that I have a spine, unlike the women he’s used to, and I think that’s part of the play for him. He likes it.
Aurelio doesn’t reply right away, but the look in his eyes shows interest. He takes a deep drink of his whisky, his gaze never leaving my face. I can practically hear the gears turning in his mind.
When he leans forward, placing a hand on my bare knee, I struggle to keep the mask on. His touch sickens me, and it’s hard to keep my revulsion from showing. But I force a smile, one that doesn't reach my eyes, and keep my focus on the act.
“I suppose Caelian is still refusing the divorce?”
I nod. “He’s stubborn. It’s a control thing. But surely you have someone who can—for the lack of a better word— expedite the situation.”
His expression hardens, his eyes flashing with something dangerous. “Unfortunately, my reach isn’t as far as the Dark Sovereign’s.” There’s a low note of envy in his voice. “But once I own the Belucci fortune, that’ll change.”
Not if I can help it.
I glance at the glass in my hand. The crystal flute could easily be a weapon under the right circumstances. The champagne’s bubbles are rising, popping. It's like watching a slow-moving sand timer, each bubble signifying a second passed, a second closer to ending this.
Aurelio is still watching me, his gaze predatory. Heavy. Unwelcome. “You're a brave woman, I’ll give you that.” It’s not admiration I read in his eyes. It’s malice, possession, evil intent.
“And I'm sure that's part of the allure. My courage and my father’s bank account,” I respond. His grip on my knee tightens slightly, and I resist the urge to pull away from him.
“Frank,” he calls without breaking eye contact with me, “my future wife, she’s a beautiful woman, don’t you think?”
The hair on the back of my neck rises, chills slithering down my back.
“She sure is,” Frank replies, walking closer, his leering gaze practically violating me. “Really makes you appreciate what a man will do for beauty, doesn't it?” Frank's words leave a sour taste in my mouth.
Aurelio gives a hearty laugh, his grip further tightening on my knee. I fight the urge to jerk away from him, keeping the facade of a willing participant. All I need is the right opportunity and I’ll have a piece of glass in his jugular within ten seconds.
I have no idea where this bloodlust is coming from or what’s feeding it—maybe it’s the overwhelming compulsion to be with the man I love without any threat looming over us. Maybe it’s because I’m tired of constantly fighting and just want it all to end so I can live my life the way I want to…with him…Caelian.
Aurelio stands and starts to circle me like a predator, taking in the sight of me trapped in his domain.
“It would be a shame for one man to keep this beauty all to himself,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips, dragging a finger along my naked shoulder. Every nerve ending screams at the contact, a shiver of dread slithering into my gut.
I take a deep, steadying breath before looking up at him, my gaze hard but steady. “And it would be a shame for you to give to someone that which you haven’t had yourself.”
There’s a moment of silence as Aurelio's smirk fades, replaced with a cold glare. His hand pauses on my shoulder, and the tension in the room spikes to a tangible tightness.
Nerves are rampant in my blood.
Unable to sit still any longer, I stand—it’s risky, but I do it anyway—and walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. I’m acutely aware of him behind me, every instinct on high alert. But he doesn’t move, and I continue to gaze out the window.
“Frank,” Aurelio starts, “let’s sample some of my merchandise.”
My legs weaken, and I grab hold of the chair next to me. When I dare glance back at him, relief floods me when I see him over at the ostentatiously large glass table, chopping at a mound of cocaine with a gold credit card, the clink of metal against glass grating down my spine.
“Business is booming,” he says, not looking up as he cuts the white powder with practiced precision.
Frank Cortello, a shadow in the corner of the room, grunts an affirmation, his attention locked on the glowing screen of his phone.
“Market's ripe for the taking,” Frank replies, voice gravelly, as if every word scraped its way out of his throat.
Aurelio snorts a line, a sharp inhalation that seems to echo. I watch, my stomach churning, not just from disgust, but anticipation, too. Disgust because this man is a cesspool of vice, anticipation because every second he's distracted is a second closer to his downfall.
I imagine wrapping my fingers around one of those heavy crystal tumblers that line his shelves. How easily it would smash against the side of his head, how satisfying the weight would feel in my hand.
I clutch the crystal flute tighter. My mind races through scenarios, plotting trajectories and outcomes. A tumbler, a pen from his desk, the sharp edge of a picture frame—tools of retribution waiting to be wielded by my hand. Timing is everything, and patience will be my sharpest weapon.
“Giana, you should try this. You won’t get this quality snow anywhere else in this city.” He wipes his nose on the back of his hand, the residue of his indulgence stark against his skin.
I hold out my champagne. “This is strong enough for me tonight. But thanks.”
Frank chuckles. “Your future wife doesn’t seem to like your products, Le Fonti.”
Fuck. The last thing I need is for this old pervert to light a fire under Aurelio’s ass.
“Oh, I like his products,” I say, keeping my composure. “I just prefer to sample them when we’re alone. You know what they say about fucking on cocaine.”
Frank’s face reddens, a cough wracking his frame. Aurelio, however, breaks into raucous laughter. His eyes glint with something dangerous as he regards me, the corners of his smile stretched wide in amusement.
I’m treading on a thin line, but I need to get Frank to leave so I can be alone with Aurelio. I won’t stand a chance against two men, especially ones as predatory as these.
“Frank, I think it’s time for you to leave. I need to spend some quality time with my future bride.” I shiver at his words. “I’ll have your order ready in seventy-two hours.”
The moment the door shuts behind Frank, my heart lurches up my throat.
Aurelio snakes an arm around my waist, and I’m struggling to keep the bile down. This is it. This is where everything changes for me.
He pulls me closer, and I'm caught in his dark orbit, his vile mouth kissing along my shoulder. I’m barely able to breathe; my body is rigid with fear yet with an air of determination.
I can feel his hot, rancid breath, causing every hair on my neck to rise.
“Are you scared, Giana?” His voice is like a serpent, slithering into my ears, venomous and cruel.
“No.” It’s a lie, and I’m not sure I sound convincing.
“I think you are.” He flexes against my ass, and my eyes roll closed, disgusted at the feel of his hard cock. “I think you’ve been lying all night.” I stiffen, and he jerks my head to the side so he has access to the my neck, sliding his tongue across my flesh. “You’re playing with me, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I squeeze the stem of my glass tighter, his one arm reaching around, his palm covering my breast, and I suppress an anguished moan.
“You should learn that a little bird shouldn’t play with a lion.” His fingers tighten around my breast, causing a sharp intake of breath. “The sooner you realize that, the better the outcome will be…for you.”
This time he rolls his hips so hard, so deliberately, I lose my footing. But he steadies me by tightening his arms around me, squeezing my breast.
I want to retch, acid rising in my throat, but I swallow it down. “I’ve come to accept my father’s arrangement. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“What I want is for you to want me.” His hand dips low and he cups my sex, ice bursting through my bones. “I want you to want me the way you want him. I want you to serve me the way you served him.”
“Caelian?” I grit, his fingers circling like he thinks he found my clit. “That’s where you’re wrong. I didn’t serve him. I’m not a prisoner, Aurelio. Not to him, not to you, not to anyone.”
“But you’re daddy’s little brat, aren’t you? This pussy is meant for trade.” He’s rubbing my sex harder, and I feel my defiance drain out of me, hating his touch, hating the violation of his hands on my body.
“Maybe, but your currency's not worth shit,” I manage to say, my voice stronger than I feel inside.
He chuckles, and it’s a savage sound that bounces off the opulent walls. “Your father seems to think it is.”
My blood stalls, my heart screeching to a halt.
“All it took was a little pressure,” he presses down, searching for my slit through my dress, “and your father cracked. His precious Cristiano seems worth more than you, I’m afraid. And we knew Caelian would never help your father again.”
“What are you talking about?”
He swipes my hair upward, and licks down the back of my neck, chills erupting across every inch of my skin. “When he went to beg for help to protect Cristiano, we knew your husband wouldn’t budge. Everyone played so beautifully into my plan.”
My muscles stiffen, and I bite the inside of my cheek, tasting the tang of blood on my tongue. “What…what plan?”
There’s some momentary relief when he removes his hand from between my legs, only to settle it on my waist, winding up the fabric of my dress. “Caelian refused to help your father because he hates the man, and you stepped up just like your father and I knew you would.”
My heart hammers.
“You know, you’re definitely a feisty one. But so predictable, Giana. You did exactly what I wanted you to, stepped up to save your brother by sacrificing yourself,” the skirt of my dress is around my waist now, “to me.”
I swallow hard, the reality of his words sinking into me like poison.
That’s why my father was so accepting of me divorcing Caelian only to marry the man he tried to save me from in the first place. That’s why he didn’t do anything to help me the night he heard me cry for help. He’s been Aurelio’s pawn all this time.
My mind races, the pieces coming together in a stomach-turning revelation. All of this was masterminded by him. Caelian, Cristiano, my own father, me…all mere players in this sadistic game he wove so cunningly.
Uncontrollable shaking seizes me as his fingers trace my hipbone, the sickening intimacy of his touch forcing a whimper to escape my lips.
Tears sting the corners of my eyes, both from fear and the feeling of betrayal—betrayal from my father, but even more so, from myself. I had been so blind to see what was right in front of me. That which Caelian had said to be true all along.
“You, pretty Giana,” he says, leaning down to whisper in my ear, “you're the queen in this game of chess. A queen who fell right into the trap of the enemy king.” His fingers snake into the sides of my panties, and I try to jerk free, no longer playing this game with him.
“Let go,” I spit out, but he only chuckles darkly in response.
“As I said. Feisty,” he murmurs again, amusement and something far more sinister curling around his voice's edge.
“I said let go of me.” The glass falls from my hand, shattering on the marble floor. Everything shatters except for the stem, and my eyes zero in on it, the sharp point gleaming sinisterly in the dimming light.
“Relax, Giana.” His voice is a low rumble, a predator's purr. “You know you want this.” Abruptly, he tightens his hold around me and starts to shove my panties down, and I’m clawing at his arm, scratching his flesh, all the while keeping my eyes on the crystal stem.
“I promise, as soon as you feel how good my cock will be to you, you won’t fight me again.”
“Let go of me!”
It’s like something suddenly possesses him, and he roughly, viciously tears my panties so they’re only around one thigh now. His hands are everywhere, my thoughts are static, and I'm terrified, yet my instincts are screaming at me to survive.
I feel the prickling of adrenaline in every vein, every fiber of my being shouting for me to take action. Any action. And the second he forces me down, bent over the chair, my entire life depends on that one piece of glass.
Everything is happening fast and slow at the same time, like reality is warped into images twisted around the edges.
I hear the sound of his belt buckle, the zip of his pants, a harsh metallic sound that rings straight through me with icy blades.
“The more the fight, the better it’ll be.”
I stretch my arm, gaze aimed at the crystal stem on the floor, reaching, wiggling my fingers, desperate to get to it. Pieces of shattered glass cut into my flesh, but I don’t feel pain. The adrenaline and fear overpower everything else.
The whole world narrows down to a point—my last hope—the gleaming apex of the crystal stem. As he shifts and hovers over me, an animal snarl curling over his lips, there is a burst of determination that zings through every muscle, and I’m able to grab the stem.
I grip it tightly, ignoring the sharp pain as it bites into my skin. The crimson drops of blood that fall onto the marble barely register within my frenzied mind. Instinct takes over and strength flows through me like water, bringing new life to my terrified senses.
In a blur of movement, I twist violently, a scream tearing from my throat as I stab the stem straight into this eye. There's a wet, crunching sound as the glass impales him, blood gushing out and over my hand.
He howls, a gruesome sound that echoes through the room and pierces my eardrums, and staggers backward, the crystal stem protruding grotesquely from his eye socket.
He’s clutching at his face, and I scramble to my feet. My body feels light and heavy all at once, and my heart beats like a drum, the echo pounding in my ears.
I’m about to run when he snags me, and I shriek, grabbing the stem and forcing it deeper into his eye when there’s a sudden jerk, and Caelian appears behind him.
Aurelio stiffens, mouth gaped open with blood rushing out, his one remaining eye instantly glossed over, and I watch as Caelian hacks his blade farther up Aurelio’s back.
Shocked and drowning in adrenaline, I stay there, frozen, my gaze fixed on Caelian as we stare at each other, both of us holding on to the weapons we stabbed into Aurelio.
Blood soaks through my dress, and I feel it trickle down my legs. But I can’t move. I don’t know how.
Suddenly, Caelian wrenches his blade free with a sickening squelch. Aurelio crumples to the floor, blood pooling around him, and the room is silent now, save for my breathing, which starts to hitch, and I shudder as rapid breaths choke me, the air not reaching my lungs.
The world spins, the room begins to tilt, and I’m desperate for oxygen, hyperventilating when Caelian grabs me.
“Look at me.” He cups my cheeks. “New York, look at me. Breathe, okay? Just breathe. You’re safe. Nicoli,” he calls, “she’s going into shock!”
He speaks again, sharp and urgent, as I stare blankly into his eyes.
“New York, breathe with me.” His hands move to my ribs, guiding my breaths. “Breathe. Just breathe. Fuck!”
He slams his lips against mine, and everything stops. The sound of my heartbeat. The rush of adrenaline. The swoosh of blood. Everything grinds to a halt, replaced with a soothing silence, his lips stealing the darkness. And like a tether, he fastens me to him—strong, solid, and a lifeline I can cling to.
Gently, slowly, his lips move over mine, and I soak it all up. The comfort. The warmth. And when he leans back, resting his forehead against mine, he says the words I’ve wanted to hear since this nightmare started.
“It’s over. It’s all…over.”