Chapter 2
Aurelia
The sting of hot water drips down my back, my dark hair falling down the length, ending in the dip above my hips. I tilt back further, letting the water run down my forehead, around my eyes, and along my neck, then I picture him as I always do when he’s not around—tall, broad, terrifyingly still.
Arms inked from shoulder to wrist with scars layered underneath the tattoos. My brother’s best friend moves with pride, a soldier even when he’s not trying to. He’s constantly measuring exits, clocking threats, anticipating every possible failure in the room.
Before he joined my father’s circle, Elijah worked for the government.
High-level protective services at the early age of seventeen.
I remember Enzo whispering about it once—how Elijah had stood in front of bullets more than once, how he’d broken a man’s spine in three places to protect a diplomat’s child.
He’s always been the type to die for the job.
I think that’s why my father accepted him.
Why he trusted him.
Why he gave him to Enzo and stupidly left my life in his hands.
The irony doesn’t escape me. Enzo warning me to stay away from Elijah when we both know he’s never wanted me, not the way I craved him.
And still…
When the water runs over my skin and fogs the mirrors, I imagine him on his knees.
Not in obedience. Not in defeat.
For me.
Elijah Romano—the man who never bends or breaks—bending only for me. Betraying every oath he swore, every order he’s ever followed, just to give me something. Anything.
I don’t love him.
I can’t, not after the position he put me in. For every second he’s stolen from me.
And still—God help me—I imagine it.
I imagine him leaning in close, voice low and raw with the weight of years we’ve both ignored. His hands on my hips with reverence. His mouth ghosting over mine with heat.
A kiss that would burn.
A touch that would leave bruises not from harm, but from hunger.
I imagine the way his body would pin mine to the cold tile, wet and fevered from the steam still clinging to the walls. How his breath would shake as he finally gives in—heat and sweat, muscle and restraint, the glass behind me shattered by need.
But it won’t happen.
It can’t happen.
If Dante even suspected what I dream about behind closed doors…
He would make Enzo do it.
He wouldn’t just kill Elijah—he’d force my brother to slit his best friend’s throat and feed me his blood as punishment.
A lesson.
A warning.
That no matter how strong I become, I’ll never be free. Not really.
I pump the lavender soap into my hands, working up a slick lather.
The smell is savoury and sweet, almost choking in the steam.
I scrub hard, dragging the suds across my face, down my neck, over my thighs and feet.
The blood has dried thick, cracking similar to old paint, and peeling it from my skin requires effort.
Each swipe leaves streaks of red mixing with the white foam, dripping down the drain in thin, pink rivulets.
I might carry the De Luca name, but I don’t have any power here. None that he would recognize anyway.
* * *
After a much-needed, hour-long bath, I grip the golden edges of my tub and lift myself out, groaning in agony as I wrap myself in the white robe left hanging for me.
Before returning to my room, I take a moment to look at myself in the mirror. See if I look any older. See if there’s been a sudden change from twenty-one to twenty-two. But as I stare back into my ocean blue eyes, I don’t see any difference.
I place my elbows on the white marble vanity and lean closer to the mirror, gently touching my split cheek, which has luckily stopped bleeding.
I drop my hand and wipe the mirror, still fogged from the heat circulating in the room. Then, with the slight nod of my head, I whisper to myself what no one else can. “Aurelia.” I take a deep breath at the sound of hearing my full name. “You should have fun on your birthday.”
A slight smile curves the corner of my mouth.
I try to keep to myself as much as possible, as it usually ends in lives being lost when I don’t. I usually try to keep as many men alive as possible, but I thought I’d be free by now, so I can’t find it in me to care.
I straighten my spine and take a deep breath. “I’ll be dead soon enough. Might as well enjoy it while I can.”