1

★BOUND BY DECEPTION★

Talia

The knock on my door was a desperate pounding that rattled the hinges. I sat up straight, the silk robe slipping from my shoulders, and my book tumbling to the floor.

Before I could move, the door flew open.

“Have you seen your sister?” Mother’s voice cracked, breathless. She didn’t even step inside, just clutched the doorframe as if the walls themselves were collapsing around her, eyes darting wildly like a cornered animal.

My heart jumped. “What? No. Why? What’s wrong?”

Her face was pale under her layers of makeup. She lifted a trembling hand, revealing a folded piece of paper crumpled in her fist. With a jerky motion, she shoved it at me.

I uncurled the paper, smoothing the creases. The words were scrawled in uneven strokes, clearly written in panic: ‘I can’t do this.’

That was all. There was no explanation, or apology to cover the damage. Just four words that detonated like a bomb in my chest. I could almost hear my sister's voice in those words.

My stomach hollowed. If she was gone, what would happen…

“She’s not in her room,” mother hissed. “Her gown is still there, untouched. She’s gone, do you hear me? Gone!” Her voice cracked into a near scream. “They’re already here, the entire Marcelli family is waiting downstairs—your father is stalling them but if this gets out, if that man downstairs—” She broke off, shuddering so violently her pearls clinked against one another.

That man downstairs. Ares Marcelli. The notorious heir to the most powerful family in the New York underworld.

Mother stared at me like she was watching her own execution. “We're doomed.”

Before I could respond, my father stormed into the room. His suit jacket was missing, his shirt sleeves rolled up. His expression was grim. “Nothing,” he barked at her. “We’ve turned the house upside down. She’s gone.”

My mother’s hand flew to her chest, her nails digging into her own skin. “Dio mio, help us.”

“God won’t help us now.” His sharp gaze landed on the note crumpled in my fingers. “You’ve seen it.”

I nodded mutely, though I couldn’t believe Valentina would just run. It didn’t make sense. We were never particularly close, and the distance between us became something else entirely after Father announced her engagement to Ares Marcelli a year ago. It was like a door had shut, slow at first, then all at once, and every attempt I made to reach her only made her pull further away.

She didn’t want this marriage, anyone could see that. But disappearing on the day of it? That wasn’t her. If she was gone, there had to be a reason. Something none of us saw coming.

His jaw tightened, and he began to pace. “The Marcellis will not tolerate this insult. Ares came here tonight expecting a bride. If he leaves without one, he’ll see it as a declaration of war.”

The words made my stomach twist. I didn’t know what kind of deal Father made with them, but I knew enough to be afraid. The Marcellis were unhinged, depraved, blood-sucking lunatics with a touch of divine insanity. They built their fortune from blood and learned to swim in it. And Ares, the eldest son, inherited every ounce of that madness.

“We can't let them find out.” Mother cried out.

Father’s head snapped toward her. “This wouldn't be happening if you'd done your job well.”

She blinked, startled. “I—what are you saying?”

“I'm saying this is as a result of your mothering,” he bit out. “You raised them to be soft, and spineless. You filled their heads with foolish dreams instead of discipline.” He advanced forward, jabbing a hand on her chest. “You did this.”

Her hand flew to her mouth, barely stifling the gasp from escaping. “Pietro, don't say that.”

“Don’t tell me what to say,” he snarled. “You failed at being a mother. You failed at the one thing that was expected of you.”

“Enough!” I cried out, stepping between them before I could think better of it.

He turned toward me slowly, his expression hardening into something colder than rage. “Of course,” he said with a quiet, venomous sneer. “Just look at this. One runs away, and the other thinks she can talk back to me.”

I met his stare, forcing down the fear clawing up my throat. His soulless grey eyes had a way of hollowing you out, making you feel small enough to crush underfoot. Mother used to say he wasn’t always like this, that he used to be carefree once. But if that man ever existed, I’d never met him.

“We can fix this.” Mother said suddenly. Her voice was shaky, like she was begging him for another chance. I hated that she always folded, despite how he treated her. He might not have hit her but his words over the years had done more damage than blows ever would.

“What do you suggest we do?” It was one of the rare moments he sought her opinion, yet his tone made it clear he didn't expect an answer worth hearing. “We can't possibly conjure a bride out of thin air.”

“No, we can't,” she agreed, then her gaze settled on me, wild and desperate. “What if…”

Father frowned. “Don’t waste my time, woman.”

She gripped my wrist, her nails biting into my skin. “What if Talia takes her place instead?”

“No,” I whispered immediately, instinctively taking a step back. “Don’t even think about it.”

“You’re the only one who can save us from this mess now.”

“Absolutely not.” I yanked my arm free. “I can’t. He’ll know. He’ll—”

“He won’t,” Father cut in. “He’s only seen your sister once. You look just like her. The same hazel eyes, the same face.” His gaze swept over me slowly, cataloging me like I was merchandise. It landed on my hair.

“Except the hair.”

I reached up, my fingers tangling in the strands automatically. My hair was pale, silver-blonde that looked almost white in the sunlight. A trait from my maternal grandmother. My sister's was the opposite. She had rich, dark brunette, glossy and perfect hair, just like my mother. Nothing could erase that difference, not to me, not to anyone who cared to look closely.

“I am not doing this,” I whispered, backing away. My back hit the edge of my vanity, trapping me.

Father’s steps echoed as he moved closer. “Do you know what’s at stake?”

Surely, it wasn't enough to force me into this marriage. I shook my head frantically, panic tightening my chest until I could hardly breathe. “But I’m not Val. He’ll know the moment he looks at me—”

“Not if you keep your mouth shut,” mother snapped.

“I can't do this.” I whispered.

“Enough!” Father gripped my chin so tightly it ached. “You'll do exactly what I say you will. Do you think I spent twenty years climbing out of the dirt just to be dragged back under because your stupid sister decided to disgrace us? Do you think the Marcellis will forgive being made fools of? They'll send a message. A bloody one. And they’ll start with us.”

“You will smile, and you will bow your head, and you will play the part. Or so help me, I will drag you to that altar myself.”

I could still feel the phantom brush of his calloused fingers on my jaw even after he released me.

Mother touched my arm, her own hand trembling. “There’s no time!”

“Get her ready.” Father said.

The note slipped from my fingers and fluttered soundlessly to the floor. My sister’s escape had sealed my fate.

And tonight, I was about to marry a man who didn’t even know my name.