23 | Choice
FIORELLA
My legs feel heavy as I climb the stairs to my old apartment, dragged down by dread and a strange kind of exhaustion. Santo trails two steps behind me, eyes locked on the way my silk skirt clings to my hips.
I don’t blame him—it’s a pretty skirt.
When we reach the landing, I pause, waiting for him to step beside me before I knock. “Behave,” I hiss through my teeth.
He just grins.
The door swings open, and Mia appears. Her gaze skims over me—sharp and assessing—before it cuts to Santo. “So this is your husband.”
I sigh. “Yep.”
Something flickers across her face, an odd mix of hurt and understanding, then she steps aside. “Well, come on in. We used to be Ella’s friends.”
The words slide straight between my ribs. “Still are,” I manage, but it comes out brittle and quiet.
Santo’s hand settles at my waist, warm and steady. I send him a small look—thank you—and he squeezes lightly before guiding me in.
The living room feels foreign now, like I haven’t set foot here in years. Lila sits at the dinner table with her hands around a mug. She doesn’t get up—doesn’t even smile.
I follow Mia to the table, and Santo pulls out my chair. I sink into it, letting the familiar wood ground me while I try to keep my expression neutral.
“This is Santo,” I murmur, eyes fixed on the table.
“Your husband,” Lila says flatly.
“As of Saturday, yes.”
She shakes her head slowly, like I’ve personally wounded her. “What the fuck happened, Ella? I thought we were friends.”
My fingers toy with my ring, the diamond glittering in the light. “Yeah.” Nothing else comes out.
How do I even begin to explain any of this?
Santo leans forward. “It’s my fault,” he says smoothly. “I wanted it to be small. Private.”
Lila scoffs. “Don’t insult me. I saw the picture—there were like eighty people there.”
Santo doesn’t blink. “I’ve got a big family.”
“And you didn’t think your wife’s family and friends mattered?”
Lila pushes to her feet, palms splayed on the tabletop.
“You just pop into her life, steal her away from everyone she knows and loves, to what—have her play wife at your side?”
She turns to me, eyes blazing. “And for what? What’s in it for you?”
I swallow, staring down at the grain of the wood. My heart races, blood roaring in my ears.
It’s too much.
I’m a stranger in what used to be my home. My best friends are looking at me like I betrayed them—and the worst part is, they’re not entirely wrong.
A lump forms in my throat, my eyes prickling.
Mia leans forward, forcing me to meet her gaze. “Tell us, El. What do you get out of this?”
For a second I think I might actually faint, the edges of my vision blurring. Then Santo’s hand settles on my thigh.
The touch is steady, grounding. Suddenly I can breathe again.
I lift my gaze to meet his eyes. “Him.”
Mia softens visibly. “El…”
I steel myself. “I know this all seems sudden, but Santo and I are…” I glance at him again. “On the same page. We want the same things.”
The main thing being my brother staying alive, but they don’t need to know that.
Lila doesn’t buy it. Her eyes narrow. “You know what I think?”
Santo tilts his head slightly. “I’m sure you’ll tell us.”
“I think you saw Ella and decided she’d look good on your arm.” Her voice sharpens. “I think you like the idea of owning something pretty.”
The word ‘owning’ lands hard.
Santo finally leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. His gaze doesn’t leave Lila’s. “I don’t own Ella.”
My pulse skips.
“She’s free to walk away whenever she wants.” He pauses. “But until she does, you’ll treat her choices—and our marriage—with respect.”
I feel Santo rise beside me before I see it, the shift of his presence steady and solid at my back. His hand finds my waist. “Andiamo, tesoro.” Let’s go, love.
I slowly rise. “I came here to clear the air, but I don’t think that’s happening today. And I don’t blame you guys, I understand it’s hard to wrap your head around.” I sigh. “I just wanted to let you know I knew what I was getting myself into when I married Santo.”
“Fine,” Lila mutters. “Go play house with your creepy husband then.”
The words sting more than I expect. I turn before they can see it.
Santo guides me toward the door with a gentle pressure at my back. Mia doesn’t move to stop us. She just watches, her expression hollow.
“Call us when you come to your senses,” Mia offers softly. “Like we said before, you’ll always have a home here.”
I don’t respond—I can’t get anything past the lump in my throat.
When we step into the hallway, it feels cooler than the apartment. The door clicks shut behind us. For a moment I just stand there, staring at the faded carpet.
“Well,” I whisper, my voice breaking slightly. “That went great.”
Santo’s hand slides to the back of my neck, his thumb brushing just beneath my hairline. “You held your ground.”
“I lost my friends.”
“They’re upset,” he says simply. “Not gone.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Let’s just go.”
We head down the stairs together, the echo of our footsteps following us all the way to the building’s entrance.
The evening air hits my face the moment we step outside.
I barely make it two steps onto the sidewalk before I stop dead in my tracks.
Luca stands at the curb.
His gaze flicks from me—to Santo—to the wedding ring on my hand.
All the color drains from his face. “Ella.”
My entire world caves in. “Luca,” I breathe.
Santo doesn’t move beside me, but I feel the way every muscle in his body coils tight.
Luca shakes his head slowly, eyes wide with disbelief and a twisted kind of… grief. “Tell me you didn’t sell yourself to him.”
It’s like the world slips out from underneath me, the way the ocean swept the sand away from under my feet when I was standing in the surf as a kid. “You weren’t supposed to—”
“To what?” he snaps. “Find out my sister sold her soul to the fucking devil himself?!”
I flinch like he struck me.
Santo moves before I can even process it.
One second he’s beside me, the next, he’s got Luca by the throat.
His fingers lock beneath Luca’s jaw, brutal and precise, forcing him backward against the hood of a parked car hard enough to rattle metal.
“Watch your fucking mouth.” The words come out deathly calm.
My body jolts into motion. I grab Santo’s forearm with both hands and yank with everything I have.
It’s useless—the man feels carved from stone. But his eyes cut to mine, and something shifts. His grip loosens, and a second later, he lets Luca go entirely.
Luca doubles over violently, coughing into the night air.
Santo’s arm slides around my waist automatically, possessive instinct, but I jerk away before he can pull me in.
“Do not touch my fucking family,” I hiss.
Something flickers across his face. Not anger—restraint. Like he’s holding himself on a chain for me and me alone.
Luca straightens slowly, eyes glassy with tears and fury. He beckons me over. “Come on, Ella.”
I don’t move. “Go home, Luca.”
His jaw flexes. “You don’t have to do this. I can fix it—I’ve been saving money, I’ll figure something out, I swear—”
“Go home,” I repeat, sharper this time.
Pain cracks across his face.
For a second, he looks seventeen again instead of twenty-o. Just my brother. Just Luca. “I’m gonna fix this,” he says hoarsely. “I swear, Ellie. Even if it’s the last thing I do.”
My throat tightens.
Then Santo steps closer behind me, heat and danger curling at my back, and something inside me settles into place.
A choice—a terrible one—but mine.
To keep Luca from burying himself deeper in shit, I tell myself.
I reach back blindly and grab Santo’s hand, and instantly feel comforted as his inked fingers curl around my palm.
Luca goes still.
I can’t look at him as I pull my husband with me down the sidewalk.
Behind us, Luca shouts my name.
I don’t turn around.
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A CHOICE INDEED. How do we feel about that? ??
Next chapter comes out Wednesday July 22nd at 18:30 CET/12:30pm EST/9:30am PST ??