Chapter 49 Nicolo
NICOLO
ONE MONTH BEFORE THE WEDDING
Iused to believe I could control everything. That every person had a price, every betrayal a return.
But control’s a myth, and I lost it the moment I caught her in my arms when she was trying to escape her fate.
It’s been a couple of weeks since she left. Since the Castello went quiet—too quiet. Her laughter doesn’t echo through the halls anymore. Her perfume doesn’t linger in the air.
I thought distance would make it easier. It hasn’t. Now all I do is work, drink, and stare at the same documents until the words blur. Every signature looks the same. Every deal tastes like ash.
Romiro asked me what I wanted once. At the time, the answer was simple: revenge. Now I’m not sure what that word means anymore. Because I don’t want to destroy those who made me into the monster I am.
I want to see her again.
I call Emiliano a week later. He doesn’t pick up the first two times. On the third, he does, his voice calm—too calm.
“Esposito.”
“Folonari.”
A pause. Then, “If this is about the shipment—”
“It’s not.” I lean back in my chair, the phone cold against my ear. “We need to talk. In person.”
He doesn’t answer right away. I can almost hear the gears turning in his head.
“Why?”
“Because some conversations aren’t meant for the phone.”
Another pause. “Tomorrow. Noon. You know where.”
The line cuts before I can respond.
The drive to his office is long enough to think…which is the last thing I should be doing.
The rain’s light, just a mist brushing the windshield. The air smells like pine and old roads.
I shouldn’t care about what to say. I’ve stared down men with guns in their hands and no fear in their eyes. But the thought of facing Emiliano with what I’m about to ask…it makes my chest tighten in a way I don’t like.
When I pull up to one of the many Folonari offices, guards are already waiting. They don’t bother searching me. They know I don’t come uninvited unless it’s worth something.
Emiliano’s sitting behind his desk, same as always: crisp suit, tie immaculate, posture perfect. The man’s a fucking statue. He doesn’t bother standing when I walk in.
“Esposito,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been wondering for the past twenty-four hours what you could possibly want.”
“Come up with anything?”
He arches a brow. “Not a fucking thing.”
“I’m here for a deal.”
He studies me, amusement flickering behind his eyes. “I thought we already had one.”
“This one’s different.”
“Different how?”
I meet his gaze. “I want to marry your sister.”
The room goes still. For a moment, Emiliano doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe.
Then he laughs—quiet, disbelieving. “You must be joking.”
“I’m not.”
His laughter fades as quickly as it came. “You’ve lost your mind if you think I’ll give you my sister.”
“Probably.”
He stands, slow and deliberate. “And why do you think I will give my sister to an old fucker like you—”
“I’m not asking for your permission,” I interrupt, though my tone’s low, measured. “I’m asking for your agreement.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Yes.” I pause. “You and I both know the marriage with the Europeans won’t protect her.”
That gets his attention. His jaw tightens. “And you think you can?”
“If I couldn’t, you wouldn’t have sent her away with me.”
He studies me for a long time. “And you think marrying her will offer her more protection?”
“It’ll protect her better than our original agreement.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t protect people, Esposito. You use them.”
The words hit harder than I expect.
I take a breath. “Not her.”
Something flickers in his expression. Disbelief. Maybe curiosity.
“You expect me to believe that you’re doing this out of care?”
“No,” I say quietly. “Out of necessity.”
He narrows his eyes. “Whose necessity? Yours or hers?”
I don’t answer. Because we both know the truth: it’s mine.
Emiliano moves around the desk, pacing slow. “You’ve spent years trying to get away from everything that’s tied to my family. And now you want to become a part of it?”
“I’m done running,” I say simply. “It’s cost me enough.”
He laughs again, but there’s no humor in it. “You really think marrying my sister will buy you redemption?”
“No.” My voice drops lower. “But maybe it’ll stop her from getting killed because of your enemies.”
That makes him stop pacing.
He turns, eyes sharp. “This life comes with its risks.”
“It does, but you take precautions to lower those risks,” I tell him. “You can’t protect everyone at once, Folonari. Not your wife, not your daughter, not your unborn child—and now your sister. Something slips. It always does.”
His head snaps up in my direction, eyes sharp. “How did you—”
“I have my ways.”
The silence stretches, thick and heavy. The rain outside starts to hit harder against the windows.
Finally, he exhales. “She won’t agree to it.”
“She doesn’t have to.”
He gives me a look—cold, calculating. “What do you get out of this deal?”
I meet his eyes. “A wife. I have more traditional investors I want to make deals with. Appearing to be a family man will help me expand my empire.”
I don’t need to make a confession of my feelings in front of her brother. It’s none of his business.
“Is that all?”
I don’t answer right away. Because saying it would make it real. Because I’ve built my entire life on never needing anyone, never asking, never letting anyone close enough to be a weakness. But the words come anyway, low and unsteady.
“That’s all.”
Emiliano studies me for what feels like forever. “She’s not built for your world.”
“Neither was I. But here we are.”
He looks away, jaw tight. The silence between us is different now. Not combative, just heavy with something that almost feels like pity.
Finally, he sighs. “You know what happens if you hurt her.”
“I won’t.”
“You always say that,” he mutters, half to himself. “Men like you…you mean it until you don’t.”
“I’m not one of those men.”
“No,” he says softly. “You’re worse.”
He walks back to his desk, pulls open a drawer, and sets a folder down. “There’s a clause you’ll sign. No prenup negotiations, no loopholes. You keep her safe, she stays yours. You fail, I’ll bury you.”
I nod. “Fine.”
He looks at me again, something unreadable in his eyes. “And if she refuses?”
“Then I’ll convince her.”
His brow furrows. “You’re confident.”
“I always get what I want.”
That finally cracks something in his expression—just slightly, like he hadn’t expected to hear it.
“Why her?” he asks after a moment. “Out of all the people in the world, why my sister?”
I take a slow breath. “Why did you choose Valentina? Out of all the women that you could’ve chosen, why her?”
Emiliano’s silent. The only sound is the rain and the faint ticking of his watch.
“If I agree, there’s no going back.”
“I know.”
“And you’ll stay out of Folonari business?”
“Yes.”
He studies me for another long second. Then, almost reluctantly, he extends his hand.
“Then we have a deal,” he says.
I take it. His grip’s firm, cold. The kind of handshake that seals more than an agreement—it seals a fate.
When I leave his office, the rain has stopped. The sky’s gray, heavy with the kind of light that never quite turns to sun. I stand there for a moment, breathing it in.
I should feel relief. I don’t. What I feel is weight. Because I know what I’ve just done. I’ve traded power for love. Revenge for redemption.
And if she ever finds out the truth—that I begged her brother for her hand—she’ll never forgive me. But she’ll be safe. And that’s all that matters.
That night, I pour a drink in the library. The house feels empty again. I look at the untouched glass, the amber light catching the surface.
I used to drink to forget. Now I drink to remember. Her laugh. Her stubbornness. The way she’d say my name like it wasn’t a threat. The way she made me forget what I was built for.
I take a sip and let the burn settle in my chest.
Some men fight wars to claim territory. Others to claim power.
Me? I’m fighting to claim peace…even if it kills me.
By the time the deal’s finalized, the Folonaris’ lawyers have everything arranged. Romiro doesn’t ask questions. He just looks at me like he already knows.
“You sure about this?” he asks one night, voice low. “Because if you’re not—”
“I am.”
He nods once, slowly. “Then I’ll back you.”
He leaves without another word.
That’s what I like about my brother. He doesn’t need explanations.
Later, when I’m alone again, I pull out the folder Emiliano gave me. The official papers, the signatures, the contract binding two families that spent years tearing each other apart.
My name looks wrong beside hers. Too sharp. Too final.
I trace the edge of the ink, then close the folder.
There’s no turning back now. In a month, she’ll walk down the aisle believing she’s marrying a stranger. And when she looks up and sees me instead…
I’ll finally get to see what it truly means to hand your entire being to another person. Even if it’s in front of the entire world.