Chapter 11
Sera
I sit at the vanity in Adrian’s bedroom examining the ring on my finger. Physically, the ring is lighter than I’d assume from looking at it. Emotionally, the sight of it makes my lungs feel as though they are filled with rocks.
Today I'm marrying Adrian Nero.
A dangerous man. A mobster.
And one whose child I’m carrying.
Though Adrian told me I’m not a prisoner, I woke up alone, in a locked room, with my phone gone.
Feels very prisoner like to me. Not that I can complain to anyone. After all, I’m isolated.
My body aches. I lift up my shirt slightly, the bruises on my ribs are dark purple now. My face throbs. When I catch my reflection, I barely recognize myself.
Black eye. Split lip. Bruised cheek.
I look like what I am: a victim.
I get up from the vanity and make my way to the ensuite bathroom, which is filled with everything I could need. There are expensive toiletries, perfumes, and a swath of makeup. The towels are fluffy and the large, clawfoot tub has a million different soaps.
Adrian thought of everything. The sight of it all would have sent warmth and excitement through me. If he’d gotten my consent for all of this instead of blackmailing into it.
Fucker.
I splash cold water on my face, careful around the bruises and try to tame my hair.
It doesn’t work. I’m barely presentable when I hear the lock to the door click open.
My heart stops as I wait to see who could be walking inside.
It’s not Adrian.
It's a young woman with dark hair and the same silver eyes. She's wearing a beige-colored dress. She moves with the kind of confidence that comes from never having to doubt your place in the world.
She sees me and stops.
"Oh." Her voice is soft. Surprised. "You're awake."
"Who are you?"
"Gemma. Adrian's sister." She closes the door behind her, and I tense. But she doesn't lock it. Just stands there, studying me with those Nero eyes. "I came to help you get ready."
"For a wedding I’m being blackmailed into?”
She sighs. There's something in her voice. Sympathy? Understanding? "Adrian told me you were..." she trails off. "Reluctant."
I laugh. "That's one word for it,"
I cover myself with my arms. I feel vulnerable across from this insanely beautiful woman, who looks like she walked off of the cover of a magazine. There is too much happening here, and I’m on edge. "How do I even know you are who you say you are?” I ask. “After all, someone is trying to kill me.”
Her brow raises, clearly not expecting that question.
"He didn't mention any siblings,” I say.
She doesn't blink. "No offense but was there really time for talking?”
My cheeks turn red, and I swallow the lunch in my throat.
“Look, I get your hesitance, but don't have my birth certificate on me. What I can tell you that Adrian has more security on this place than most Presidents possesses. There's no way I'd be able to get inside alive if he didn’t want me to.”
I hadn’t seen much of the penthouse, so I am going to have to take this woman’s word for it.
“Do you have a name?” I’m being petulant and rude, but I am exhausted and in pain, and I don’t have the energy to be nice.
She smiles and reaches out her hand. “Gemma Nero.”
“Seraphina Romano. You can call me Sera.”
We shake hands, and I feel slightly more at ease.
"Why are you here?" I ask, when she drops my hand. “Are you jailer number two.”
Gemma snorts. “Hardly,” she says. “I’m here to help you get ready.” She reaches behind her, pulling a garment bag she’d hung on the door. “I also thought you might want to talk to someone. Adrian didn’t say much, but he made it clear you weren’t totally happy with this.”
I want to tell her to leave. Want to scream that I don't need her help or her pity.
But I'm so tired. And so alone. And she's the first person who's looked at me with something other than possession or calculation since this nightmare started.
"Why are you being nice to me?" I ask quietly.
Gemma sets the garment bag on the bed carefully. "Because I know what it's like to be trapped in this family." She turns to face me. "And because you look terrified."
"I am terrified."
"Good. You should be." She says it matter-of-factly. Like it's obvious. "Adrian isn't the biggest problem, though. Mother is."
The words send ice through my veins. "What?"
"My mother. Bianca." Gemma moves to the windows, looking out at the city. "She's the one who orchestrated all of this. The formal wedding. The guest list. Everything." She shrugs. “And don’t be impressed by how quickly she did it either, she’s got too much money and power not to get what she wants.
I don't understand. Maybe, I have a concussion. "I thought we were going to a courthouse."
Gemma laughs. It's a brittle sound. "Is that what Adrian told you?"
"Yes."
She laughs. “Mother was never going to allow that.” She turns back to me.
"There are going to be a thousand guests at the Nero mansion this afternoon.
New York elite. Every important family. Every business connection.
" Her silver eyes are knowing. "Mother wants everyone to see Adrian get married. After all, he is her heir. A courthouse wedding would be inappropriate.”
A thousand people.
A thousand witnesses to my captivity.
I'm going to vomit.
"I can't—" My voice breaks. "I thought it would just be us. Quick. Quiet. I thought—"
"You thought you could survive it if it was small." Gemma's voice is gentle. "I understand. Trust me, but Mother doesn't do small. She does statements."
I sink onto the bed, my legs giving out. “Shit,” I mutter. “What the hell have I done?”
Gemma sits beside me. Not touching. Just close. "I'm sorry.”
"Your brother is holding me prisoner—"
"My brother is protecting you from the Morozov family. Whether you asked for it or not." She pauses. "And he's doing it because you're carrying his child."
I look at her sharply. "He told you?"
"Mother told me. You’ll learn soon enough that there are no secrets from her." Gemma's expression is hard to read, and I can’t tell if she admires her mother or hates her. "That baby makes you valuable. It also makes you vulnerable. And with the Morozov’s sniffing around…”
I shiver. “And if I don’t want this?”
"Too late." She stands and shrugs. "I’m not going to bullshit you, your child will inherit enemies along with millions. You can run as far as possible, but Adrian will find you, and that’s the best-case scenario.”
She unzips the bag slowly.
Inside is the most beautiful dress I've ever seen.
White tulle covered in tiny pearls. Strapless, with a beaded bodice that looks like it was crafted by hand. The skirt flows like water with layers upon layers of fabric.
It's stunning, and I would have chosen it, and somehow, it makes me feel ill.
"I can't wear that," I say.
"Why not?"
"Because it's too formal. Too beautiful. Too—" I stop. "It makes it real."
"It is real, Sera.” She lifts the dress out of the bag. "You're marrying Adrian today. You can do it in jeans, or you can do it in this dress. But we both know you don’t have much of a choice.” She glances at my stomach, her lips tight. “Your child ties you to this family.”
I want to cry. Want to scream. Want to tear that beautiful dress to pieces.
Instead, I just sit there, staring at it.
"There's a veil too," Gemma says quietly. She pulls it out. Layers of tulle with pearls scattered throughout like stars. "Mother insisted."
"Of course." I don’t even know her mother, but a dress like this would one hundred percent have a veil.
"Sera." Gemma crouches in front of me, forcing me to meet her eyes. "I know this isn't what you wanted. I know you're scared. But I need you to understand something."
"What?"
"My brother is not going to let you go.” She says it calmly. Matter-of-factly. "You’re carrying the future of this family, and even if you weren’t, you’ve caught his eye. He’s not the type to not get what he wants.”
My blood runs cold. Adrian has been full of fire and passion.
He'd handled me just the way I wanted the night we were together.
And yet, I couldn't ignore how he'd just killed a man, wiped his knife, and went on like nothing happened, or how he told me that I would be marrying him, or else, my brother would be killed.
"I know that it’s scary,” Gemma continues. "But I've never seen him want anything the way he wants you. And that makes you dangerous. To him. To Mother. To this entire family."
"I'm not dangerous. I'm just—"
"You're the first thing Adrian has ever cared about that mother can't control." Gemma's smile is sharp. "That's very dangerous."
I don't know what to say to that. No one, in my entire life, has ever seen called me dangerous. I’ve never had power.
I can’t ignore the way that it makes me feel—a little heady.
"I know you don't want my advice, but I'm going to give you some anyway," Gemma stands. "Play the game. Be the perfect bride today. Smile for the cameras. Say your vows. Let Mother and Adrian think they’ve won.” She pauses. "And then figure out how to survive being a Nero."
"Won't they have won?" I ask. "I mean I get the sense that marriage is kind of a binding thing in your world."
She smiles. It's sad, not touching her eyes. "It is," she says, and she sounds exhausted, like she has some sort of. "But you have a lot more power than some of us." She moves toward the door. "I'll send someone to help you with your hair and makeup. The ceremony starts at five."
"Gemma." I stop her before she leaves. "Why are you helping me?"
She looks back at me. For a moment, I see something vulnerable in her expression. Something sad.
"You're family," she says quietly.
Then she's gone.
The woman who comes to do my hair and makeup is professional and silent. She doesn't comment on my bruises, just works around them with expert precision.
I sit in front of the mirror and watch myself transform.