Chapter 2

Lorenzo carried me back to the main house.

In the bathroom, steam slowly spread through the air.

"Get cleaned up. You'll feel better."

Just like before, he poured my favorite rose oil into the tub and picked up a soft towel.

I wanted to struggle, but after three days without a drop of water, my body had no strength left.

He pulled off my filthy dress, his voice low.

"Don't fight me."

His tone wasn't harsh, but it left no room for refusal.

As if everything about me would always be under his control, as if he could always decide whether I hurt, whether I was cold, whether I hated him.

I closed my eyes and let the hot water rise over my wounds.

The pain slowly woke, sharper than the cold of the cellar.

As he dried my hair, Lorenzo spoke.

"Bianca was doted on by the Rossis her whole life. Her father died young, and everyone in the family has always given in to her. She's only staying for our wedding. After that, she'll leave."

I looked up at him.

"You really only think of her as a little sister?"

Lorenzo was silent for a few seconds.

"Of course."

I laughed.

"That pause just now was all the answer I needed."

I watched him in the mirror.

"Lorenzo, there isn't going to be a wedding."

I must have struck a nerve, because he slammed the hairdryer down on the counter.

The noise made my shoulders jump.

"I can hand you the keys to this whole estate, and I can take them back."

He leaned down and gripped my chin, the family ring digging into me until it hurt.

"Anna, you came out of an orphanage. Other than me, no one in Old Port will protect you."

I looked at him.

There was no lover's panic in his eyes, only the cold of a man in power who'd been defied.

"Don't push me into doing something uglier."

With that, he turned and left.

The instant the door closed, my throat tightened.

Three years.

More than a thousand days and nights.

When old Don Vitali had first taken him back into the family, everyone looked down on him, the bastard who'd grown up on the outside.

I was the one who stayed up all night over the books with him in the dock warehouses, who went with him to meet those arrogant shipowners, who drank down the hard liquor they deliberately pushed on him, winning contract after contract.

I was the one who untangled the casino's chaotic ledgers, and that was what got the old Don to single him out at a family meeting for the first time.

The night his half-brother sent men to kill him, I took the knife for him.

As the blade sank into me, I heard him scream my name, out of control.

The blood bank was short that night, and he knelt in the hospital corridor begging the doctors.

He said that as long as they could save me, they could have his life.

Those words had once buried themselves deep in me, making me believe he truly held me as dear as his own life.

And what came of it?

A month before the wedding, he still locked me in that underground cellar for Bianca's sake.

A maid came in carrying a bowl of hot soup.

"Miss, the master made this clam chowder himself."

I gave it a glance.

"Pour it out."

Lorenzo happened to reach the doorway just then.

His gaze darkened.

"Anna, making me angry isn't a smart move."

I raised my eyes.

"Three years ago, a shipowner made me finish a whole plate of squid-ink pasta before he'd sign. You got your contract, and I nearly died in the car from a shellfish allergy."

Lorenzo's face changed.

He came closer, his voice softer.

"I'm sorry. I'll remember from now on."

I gave a cold laugh.

"Three years and you never remembered. What makes you think there's a 'from now on'?"

The next second, Bianca's scream came from the far end of the hallway.

Lorenzo barely hesitated before turning and heading out.

The door hadn't been shut all the way.

I saw him crouch on the floor and gently gather up Bianca, who'd fallen by the stairs, cradling her like an expensive, fragile piece of porcelain.

The sight sent a sharp ache through my chest.

My phone rang just then.

The number on the screen was from overseas.

I picked up, and my eyes suddenly stung.

The man on the other end had a low voice, as if it had crossed a long stretch of sea wind to reach my ear.

"If he doesn't want you, I do."

"Anna, wait for me."

The next day, a black leather case sent from overseas sat by my bed.

Inside were an emerald wedding ring, a bank card with no spending limit, and a silver ring engraved with the Ferrara family crest.