Chapter 7
Giulia
SONG: THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND BY BAD OMENS
I woke to sunlight burning through my eyelids and the immediate knowledge that something was wrong. Not wrong. Different.
My body ached in places I'd never really thought about before. The sheets felt expensive against my skin. Too smooth. Too cold. And the bed was enormous. I stretched my legs and couldn't find the edge. Then I remembered.
Wedding. Reception. Geraldo's meltdown. The tradition. Dimitri's hands on my skin.
Oh God.
I opened my eyes. The bedroom was empty. Dimitri's side of the bed was cold. He'd been gone for a while then. I sat up slowly and winced. Everything hurt. Not terrible pain but a deep soreness that reminded me exactly what had happened last night. Heat flooded my face even though I was alone.
It had been... I didn't have words for what it had been.
Terrifying at first. Then something else entirely. The way he'd touched me, looked at me like I mattered. Like I was more than just a political arrangement sealed with signatures and champagne. But apparently, I'd been wrong about that last part.
The bathroom door opened and Dimitri emerged, already dressed. Suit perfectly pressed and hair still damp from the shower. He looked like he was preparing for a business meeting instead of dealing with his brand new wife.
"You're awake." His voice was flat, professional. Nothing like the low murmur from last night when he'd whispered against my skin.
"I am."
He didn't look at me, just moved to the dresser and started putting on his watch, a Richard Mille. Expensive. His movements are precise and controlled.
"We need to handle the tradition," he said. "Your mother will be here in an hour."
Right. The sheets.
I looked down and saw the evidence there. A large pink stain on white fabric that proved exactly what Papa and Mamma needed to know.
My stomach turned.
"An hour?"
"Giuseppe called this morning. Early. Apparently, your mother couldn't wait." He finally glanced at me. His gray eyes were cold and distant, nothing like the heat that had been there last night. "I'll have the staff prepare the bedroom. You should get dressed." He turned to leave.
"Dimitri?"
He paused but didn't turn around.
"Did I...was last night okay?" The question came out smaller than I'd intended. Vulnerable in a way I hated.
"It was fine. You were fine." Still not looking at me. "Get dressed. They'll be here soon." He walked out and closed the door behind him.
I sat in that enormous bed surrounded by evidence of my lost virginity and tried to understand what had just happened.
Last night he'd been gentle, patient. He'd kissed my hair and held me close and made me feel like maybe this marriage wouldn't be the nightmare I'd feared. This morning, he could barely stand to look at me.
What had I done wrong?
I dragged myself out of bed and found my suitcases in the walk-in closet. Someone had unpacked my overnight bag while we'd been at the reception. My clothes hung next to where his suit must have been. My shoes lined up beneath. It looked like we were a real couple sharing a real life.
Except we weren't.
I pulled on light gray cigarette pants and a light knit sweater, the most normal clothes Mamma would let me bring for today. I braided my hair in a long, thick braid that I put over one shoulder.
The woman looking back at me in the mirror had shadows under her eyes and a hickey on her collarbone that I definitely hadn't noticed last night. Physical proof that Dimitri Morozov had put his mouth on my skin. I pulled the sweater higher to hide it before applying a light face of makeup.
A knock came at the bedroom door. One of the staff entered with fresh sheets and began stripping the bed with practiced efficiency. She didn't look at me, didn't acknowledge the stains or what they meant, she just bundled everything up and carried it away like dirty laundry.
I didn’t miss that she left the bottom sheet on the bed.
I wandered into the living room and found Dimitri on the phone speaking Russian. His tone was sharp and commanding. The Pakhan giving orders.
He saw me and ended the call. "They're here."
My stomach dropped. "Already?"
"Your mother doesn't waste time."
The doorbell rang, and Dimitri moved to answer it, but I grabbed his arm.
"Wait. Can we talk first, about last night?"
"There's nothing to talk about."
"You're acting like I have the plague."
His jaw tightened. "I'm acting like we completed a necessary tradition and now we're moving forward with the alliance."
"Is that all it was to you? Necessary?"
He finally looked at me. Really looked at me. Something flickered in those gray eyes. Something that might have been regret or guilt or maybe just exhaustion. "What do you want me to say, Giulia?"
"I don't know. Something honest?"
The doorbell rang again. More insistent.
"We don't have time for this." He pulled his arm free. "Your mother is waiting." He opened the door.
Mama swept in with Giuseppe right behind her. She hugged me so tight I couldn't breathe. Then she held me at arm's length and studied my face like she was checking for damage.
"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"
"Mama. I'm fine."
Papa cleared his throat. "The sheets?"
Dimitri gestured toward the bedroom. "In there. My housekeeper has prepared them for inspection."
Inspection. Like I was livestock being verified before purchase.
Mama disappeared into the bedroom. Papa followed. Dimitri and I stood in awkward silence in the living room.
Minutes crawled past.
Then Mama emerged with tears streaming down her face. Happy tears this time. "My baby girl," she said. "A proper wife now."
Papa shook Dimitri's hand. "You've honored the tradition. The alliance is sealed."
"Good." Dimitri pulled his hand back quickly. "Then we're finished here?"
"Not quite." Giuseppe glanced at me and then back to Dimitri. "We should discuss living arrangements."
"I've already arranged that." Dimitri moved to pour himself a drink. Scotch—at nine in the morning. "I purchased a property in Silverleaf, in Scotsdale, near my sister. A large house with full staff and security. Giulia will live there."
Wait. What?
"Scotsdale?" I said. "That's almost an hour from my family."
"Forty minutes without traffic."
"And where will you be?"
"Here, managing the Bratva." He took a drink. "You'll be safer in Scotsdale. Away from the violence and anyone who might want to use you against me."
My chest felt tight. "So, you're just...sending me away?"
"I'm protecting you."
"By isolating me in some mansion where I don't know anyone?"
His expression didn't change. "You'll have everything you need. Books. Space. Privacy. You can continue your studies if you want. Live your life without interference."
Without interference. Meaning without him.
"I see." My voice came out cold, brittle. "So last night was what? Your husbandly duty? Check the box and move on?"
Papa made a sound like he was choking while Mama looked horrified.
But Dimitri just stared at me with those empty gray eyes. "Last night was the tradition your father required. Now you can live comfortably while I handle business. It's better this way."
"Better for who?"
"For both of us." He set down his glass. "I'm Pakhan. My life is dangerous. Unpredictable. You're safer away from it."
"You mean you're safer if I'm away from it. If you don't have to think about me or worry about me or—"
"Giulia." Mama's hand on my arm. Warning me to stop.
But I couldn't stop. Everything from last night, the gentleness, the connection I'd felt, it had all been a lie.
"What about your…” I swallowed. ”Needs?" I asked. My voice shook but I pushed forward. "Are you going to drive to see me every time you want to fulfill your marital obligations? Or will you find someone else to handle that?"
Something flashed in his eyes. Anger maybe. Or guilt. "I'll handle my needs however I see fit. You and I both know that is none of your business."
There it was. He got to sleep around and do whatever he wanted while I sat in my gilded cage and pretended not to know.
Mama gasped. Papa's face went dark.
"You will be faithful to my daughter," Giuseppe said quietly. Dangerously.
"I never promised to be faithful. I promised to not hurt her.” Dimitri clarified. “I'll be discreet." Dimitri's tone didn't change. "Which is more than most men in our position offer."
He wasn't even going to lie about it.
I laughed. The sound came out harsh and broken. "Well, at least you're honest." I turned to Mama. "When do I move to my prison?"
"Giulia—"
"Today," Dimitri said. "Your things are already being packed. The car will take you this afternoon."
"Of course they are." I looked at him, really looked at him, and tried to find any trace of the man who'd held me last night. Who'd kissed my hair and whispered that I was beautiful.
He was gone. Maybe he'd never existed at all.
"Thank you for the lovely wedding night," I said. "And congratulations on successfully completing your tradition. I hope the alliance is worth it."
I walked past all of them and grabbed my coat from the closet. I needed air. I needed space. Needed to not be in this apartment with this man who'd touched me like I mattered and then thrown me away like garbage.
"Giulia!" Mama called after me.
But I was already out the door.
I walked for hours. Through the resort, past buildings and people and lives that had nothing to do with mine. My phone buzzed constantly. Mamma. Papa. Isabella. I ignored all of them.
Around noon I found myself in an Uber, heading to my favorite reading location, beside the library. My old coffee shop where I'd spent countless hours reading and studying and planning a future that looked nothing like this.
I ordered a latte and sat by the window, watching students hurry past with backpacks and worried expressions. Finals stress. Paper deadlines. Normal problems.
I'd never be normal again.
My phone rang. Papa this time. I answered.
"Where are you?" His voice was tight, worried.
"Coffee shop. Near the library."
"You scared your mother."
"I scared myself."
Silence for a moment. "The car is waiting at the hotel. Your things are loaded, and Dimitri wants you settled in Silverleaf before evening."
"Of course he does."
"Giulia. I know this isn't what you wanted—"
"You have no idea what I wanted, Papa." My throat felt tight. "I did this for you. For the family. And he can't even look at me."
"He's protecting you."
"He's protecting himself." I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. "He doesn't want a wife. He wants a trophy he can put on a shelf and forget about."
Papa was quiet for a long time. "Come home," he said finally. "We'll figure something else out."
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to run home to Mamma's cooking and my old room and pretend the last month hadn't happened. But Geraldo's face flashed in my mind. Marco Benedetti. Carlo. All the men who'd died because the Bratva and the Italians couldn't find peace.
"No." I stood and gathered my coat. "I made a promise. I'll keep it."
"You don't have to—"
"I do. For the alliance. For the family." I took a shaky breath. "I'll go to Silverleaf. I'll be the good wife locked in her tower. And Dimitri can do whatever he wants with whoever he wants. That's the deal."
"Mia figlia—"
"I have to go. The Pakhan's car is waiting." I hung up before he could say anything else.
The driver waiting at the hotel was one of Dimitri's men, stone-faced and silent. He opened the door for me like I was something fragile that might break.
Maybe I was.
Dimitri hadn’t been there when I arrived at the hotel, just staff loading the last of my things into a second car. My whole life was reduced to six suitcases and some boxes of books.
Maxim, Dimitri's best friend and most loyal soldier, stood by the door..
"Mrs. Morozova," he said. The first time anyone had called me that.
"Just Giulia is fine."
"Dimitri asked me to make sure you arrived safely."
"How thoughtful of him."
Maxim's expression didn't change but something flickered in his eyes. Sympathy maybe or pity. "The house in Silverleaf is secure. The staff has been thoroughly vetted. You'll be safe there."
"Safe and alone."
"I'll be checking in regularly. If you need anything—"
"I won't." I moved toward the door. "Let's just get this over with."
The drive took forty-three minutes. Through the city, over bridges, and into suburbs that looked nothing like the Italian neighborhood where I'd grown up.
The mansion sat behind iron gates and tall hedges. Modern architecture, all glass and sharp angles. Beautiful in a cold, unwelcoming way.
Just like its owner.
The staff lined up to greet me. A housekeeper named Margaret. A cook named Helen. Two guards, whose names I immediately forgot. They all smiled and said appropriate things about being happy to serve me.
I smiled back and said appropriate things about being happy to be there.
We were all lying.
Margaret showed me to my room, the master suite. It was enormous. Decorated in whites and creams with a bed that could sleep four people. Windows overlooked gardens that probably cost more than most people's houses.
"Mr. Morozov wanted you to be comfortable," Margaret said.
"I'm sure he did."
She hesitated. "If you need anything at all—"
"I'm fine. Thank you."
She left me alone in my beautiful prison.
I stood at the window and looked out at the perfectly manicured grounds. At the high walls and the guards patrolling the perimeter. This was my life now. This cage. These walls. This emptiness.
I'd married Dimitri Morozov twenty-four hours ago. We'd shared one night. One moment of connection that had apparently meant nothing to him. And now I was here. Alone. While he went back to his dangerous life and his other women and his empire built on blood.
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass and finally let myself cry. For the future I'd lost. For the man I'd thought Dimitri might be. For the girl who'd sat in the Columbia library reading about fallen empires and never imagined she'd become part of one.
The Byzantines had fought even when they knew the walls wouldn't hold.
But I was starting to think some walls were meant to fall.