I stared at myself in my bedroom mirror and barely recognized the girl looking back at me. She was wearing a red dress that hugged every curve like a second skin, her dark hair swept up in some fancy style that made her look older, more sophisticated. Her makeup was perfect – not a single smudge or flaw.
She looked like everything I'd dreamed of being when I was eighteen and stupid.
But her eyes... God, her eyes looked haunted.
I'd barely slept last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept seeing Alessandro's face when he'd threatened my family. That cold, calculating look that said he'd do exactly what he promised if I didn't fall in line.
The red dress felt like a costume. Like I was playing dress-up for some sick game I didn't understand the rules to.
A soft knock on my door made me jump. "Val? It's me."
"Come in, Maria."
She slipped inside and took one look at me before her face crumpled with worry. "Oh honey, you look..."
"Like I'm about to marry the devil?"
"I was gonna say beautiful, but that works too." She sat down on my bed, careful not to wrinkle her own dress. "You don't have to do this, you know. We could leave. Right now. I've got money saved up, and my cousin in Chicago—"
"Stop." I turned away from the mirror because looking at myself was making me feel sick. "You know I can't run. He'd find me, and everyone who helped me would pay for it. Including you."
"So what? Let him try. I'm not afraid of some overgrown trust fund baby with anger issues."
That actually made me smile a little. "He's not a trust fund baby anymore, Maria. He's the head of one of the most dangerous crime families in the city. And after last night..." I sank down next to her on the bed. "Papa killed one of his guys. Accidentally, but still. Alessandro has every right to demand blood for blood. The fact that he's offering marriage instead..."
"Yeah, what's up with that? Why would he want to marry you after what happened five years ago?"
That was the question that had been eating at me all night. Why me? Why marriage? Alessandro could have demanded money, territory, even my father's life. Any of those would have been more traditional than a wedding.
"I don't know," I admitted. "But I have a feeling I'm about to find out."
Maria grabbed my hands. "Promise me something. If things get bad – I mean really bad – you'll call me. I don't care what time it is or what's happening. You call me, and I'll come get you."
"Maria—"
"Promise me, Val. I need to hear you say it."
I squeezed her hands. "I promise. But it won't come to that. I can handle Alessandro De Luca."
The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but Maria seemed to believe it. Or at least, she pretended to.
Twenty minutes later, I was walking into our family's main ballroom, trying not to trip over my own feet in these stupid heels. The room was packed with every important family in the city. All here to witness my public humiliation.
Great.
The whispers started the second people saw me. I caught bits and pieces as I made my way through the crowd:
"...Romano girl..."
"...forced marriage..."
"...heard her father screwed up bad..."
"...De Luca's getting his revenge..."
I kept my chin up and my shoulders back, channeling every lesson in poise Mama had ever drilled into me. A Romano doesn't show weakness. A Romano doesn't let them see you sweat. A Romano sure as hell doesn't cry in public.
Even when her heart is breaking into a million pieces.
Alessandro was waiting for me at the bottom of the grand staircase, looking like every girl's dream and every father's nightmare rolled into one. His black suit probably cost more than most people's cars, and he wore it like armor. When he saw me, something flickered in his dark eyes – something hot and dangerous that made my stomach do weird flippy things.
"Valentina." He took my hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles that lingered just a little too long. "You look incredible."
"You look like exactly what you are," I whispered back, smiling sweetly for the cameras I could see flashing around us. "A snake in expensive clothes."
He laughed, low and rough. "Careful, cara. You're about to become mine. Might want to watch that sharp tongue."
"Yours?" I stepped closer, letting him feel the heat from my body while keeping my voice low enough that only he could hear. "You seem confused about something, Alessandro. Just because you're forcing me into this doesn't mean you own me. And I've learned a lot about fighting back since I was eighteen."
His eyes darkened, and his grip on my hand tightened just enough to remind me how much stronger he was. "Is that so?"
"Try me and find out."
Before he could respond, Papa stepped up to the microphone that had been set up near the orchestra. The room gradually quieted as people realized the announcement was about to begin.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Papa's voice carried across the ballroom. "Thank you for joining us tonight for this very special occasion. As you know, our families have a long history together, and tonight we celebrate the beginning of a new chapter in that relationship."
Alessandro's hand settled on the small of my back, and even through the fabric of my dress, his touch burned. "Smile, cara," he murmured in my ear. "You're about to become the luckiest woman in New York."
"Lucky?" I kept my smile in place while imagining all the ways I could hurt him without anyone noticing. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"I prefer to think of it as... destiny."
The way he said that word made my skin crawl. There was something behind it, something deeper than just this forced marriage. Like he'd been planning this for longer than just one night.
"Don Romano," Alessandro called out, cutting off Papa mid-speech. "I think it's time for the official announcement, don't you?"
Papa looked startled for a second, then nodded. "Of course. Alessandro, would you like to do the honors?"
Alessandro turned me to face him, and suddenly we were the center of attention for every person in the room. His hands came up to cup my face, and the gesture looked tender and romantic from the outside. But I could feel the steel beneath the silk.
"Valentina Romano," he said, his voice carrying to every corner of the ballroom. "Will you marry me?"
There was no ring. No kneeling. No romance whatsoever. Just a question that wasn't really a question and a room full of people waiting for my answer.
I opened my mouth to give the expected "yes," but before I could get the word out, Alessandro kissed me.
Not a gentle, sweet kiss like you'd expect at an engagement. This was possession, pure and simple. His mouth claimed mine like he was marking his territory, and the worst part was... my stupid body responded to it. Heat shot through me, and for just a second, I forgot where we were and why this was happening.
The room erupted in applause and cheers, but all I could hear was the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
When Alessandro finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with something that looked like hunger. "Perfect," he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.
"That wasn't part of the plan," I whispered, trying to catch my breath.
"I don't follow other people's plans, cara. The sooner you learn that, the easier this will be for you."
"Nothing about this is going to be easy."
His smile was sharp as a blade. "Good. I'd be disappointed if you didn't fight me. Makes breaking you in so much more satisfying."
People were starting to crowd around us now, eager to offer congratulations and get a closer look at the newly engaged couple. But before the first well-wishers reached us, Alessandro leaned in close one more time.
"By the way," he said, his breath hot against my ear, "that little coffee shop you go to every morning? Terrible coffee. I own a much better place across town. A car will pick you up tomorrow at eight."
"I have plans tomorrow."
"Not anymore." His grip on my waist tightened. "Lesson one, Valentina: your time belongs to me now. Your schedule, your friends, your life – it's all mine to control."
The first wave of congratulations hit us then, and I was forced to smile and nod and play the happy bride-to-be while inside I was screaming. Person after person shook Alessandro's hand and kissed my cheek, telling us how perfect we were together, how happy they were for us.
If they only knew.
I caught sight of Maria across the room, her face pale with worry. I gave her a tiny nod – our old signal that meant I was okay. It was a lie, but she didn't need to know that.
An hour later, I finally managed to escape to the ladies' room. I locked myself in a stall and pulled out my phone, planning to text Maria that I needed a few minutes to fall apart in private.
Instead, I found a message waiting from an unknown number.
Check your email. Now.
My hands were shaking as I opened my email app. There was one new message, no subject line, from an address I didn't recognize. When I opened it, my heart stopped.
Photos. Dozens of them. Me at college, laughing with friends. Shopping with Maria last week. Eating lunch at my favorite café yesterday. Even one from this morning, getting dressed in my room.
He'd been watching me. For years.
I scrolled to the bottom of the email and found a message that made my blood run cold:
You were never free, cara. You just didn't know you belonged to me yet. Tomorrow morning, eight AM. Don't keep me waiting.
-A
I dropped my phone like it had burned me. Alessandro hadn't just decided to marry me last night when Papa killed his guy. This had been planned. He'd been planning this for God knows how long.
But why? What did he want from me that he couldn't get from any other woman?
And more importantly... what else did he know?
I picked up my phone with trembling fingers and scrolled back through the photos. That's when I noticed something that made my stomach drop.
In every single picture, I was alone. Even the ones where I should have been with other people – my friends, my family, random strangers – they'd been cropped out or edited away.
Like Alessandro wanted to pretend I'd been isolated all along.
Like he'd been preparing me for this moment without me even knowing it.
The bathroom door opened, and I heard heels clicking on the marble floor. Time to go back out there and play the happy bride.
But as I fixed my lipstick in the mirror, one thought kept running through my head:
If Alessandro had been watching me for years, planning this whole thing...
What else was he planning?
And how long did I have before I found out?