LOGINMARCO POV
Luca’s office smells like control.
Leather, espresso, and whatever cologne he wears to remind people he’s the oldest.
Aria is sitting in the cold chair. Again.
She looks smaller today. Tired. But her back is straight. She didn’t bow. She never bows.
That’s the problem.
"Close the door," Luca says.
She does.
"Sit."
She’s already sitting.
I’m leaning against the window because if I sit next to her I’ll do something stupid. Like reach over and fix her hair. Or punch Luca for making her sit through this.
"Breakfast was a mess," Luca says.
"Yes." Aria’s voice is steady.
"Victoria is a problem."
"I know."
"And you," Luca points at her, "are now her problem."
I almost laugh. Now her problem. Like Aria wasn’t already everyone’s problem the second she walked in here and spilled water on Victoria’s $8000 dress.
"I didn’t start it," Aria says.
"No," Luca says. "You finished it. You talked back."
"I wasn’t going to let her—"
"I don’t care what you were going to do," Luca cuts in. "I care what happens next. Carusos don’t forget being embarrassed. Especially not by staff."
Staff.
That word makes my jaw tick.
She’s not staff to me. Not anymore. Not after last night in the west wing. Not after she looked at those photos and didn’t scream.
"She had it coming," I say.
"Stay out of this," Luca says to me.
"No."
Luca looks at me. Really looks. "You’re defending her again."
"Someone has to," I say. "She’s 21. She’s broke. She walked into this house and got thrown to Victoria in 12 hours. And she didn’t flinch."
"She signed a contract," Luca says. "She knew there were rules."
"Rules you didn’t explain," I shoot back. "You gave her ‘don’t go west wing’ and ‘don’t sleep with us’ and called it a day."
Luca’s jaw ticks. He hates when I talk back. He hates it more when I’m right.
"Fine," he says. "New rules. Real ones."
He pulls out a paper. His handwriting. Neat. Terrifying.
"Rule 1: You don’t leave the property without telling me or Marco."
Aria frowns. "Why Marco?"
"Because he volunteered," I say before Luca can. Because someone needs to make sure she’s safe and Luca’s too busy running an empire to do it.
"Rule 2: You don’t speak to Victoria. Ever. If she talks to you, you walk away. Rule 3: West wing is still off limits. Rule 4: You don’t ask questions about our business. Rule 5: You don’t get involved in family matters."
Aria reads the list. Her fingers don’t shake.
"That’s it?" she asks.
"That’s it," Luca says. "Break one, you’re gone. No second chances."
She nods. "Okay."
I’m watching her. She’s scared. I can see it in the way she holds her shoulders. But she’s not showing it. God, she’s stubborn.
"Good," Luca says. "You’re dismissed."
She stands. She’s about to leave when I say, "Wait."
Luca stops. "What?"
"I’m walking her."
"No, you’re not."
"Yes, I am." I push off the wall. "Someone needs to make sure Victoria’s goons aren’t waiting in the hall."
"There are no goons," Luca says.
"There will be by tonight," I say. "Let me."
We stare at each other. Oldest brother vs middle brother. He wins 90% of the time.
Today he doesn’t. He nods once. "Fine. 10 minutes. Then you have calls."
The hall is empty when we walk out.
For a while neither of us talks.
I can smell her. Soap and something else. Fear, maybe.
"You okay?" I ask.
"I’m fine."
"You don’t look fine."
"I’m tired."
I stop her. Right in the middle of the hall.
"Listen," I say. "Luca’s rules are bullshit. Not all of them. But most. He’s trying to protect you by keeping you small."
"I don’t want to be small."
"I know."
The words slip out before I can stop them.
That’s why you’re dangerous.
"What does that mean?" she asks.
"It means you don’t bow," I say. "And we’re not used to that."
Footsteps.
Nico.
He looks between us. "Everything okay?"
"Fine," I say. Too fast.
Nico nods. "Luca wants you in the kitchen, Aria. Dinner prep."
"Okay."
Nico leaves.
I exhale. "Go. Before I say something else stupid."
"What kind of stupid?" she asks.
"Stupid like ‘you should stay in my room tonight so you’re safe’."
I walk away before she can answer. Because if she says yes, I’m screwed. If she says no, I’m worse.
Dinner is hell.
20 people. Business associates. Fake smiles. Real guns under jackets.
I’m supposed to be schmoozing. Instead I’m watching Aria serve wine.
She’s good at it. Head down. Quiet. Efficient.
Until Victoria shows up.
Of course she does.
She’s at the bar, talking to De Luca. When she sees Aria, her smile goes sharp.
I move before I think.
"Problem?" I ask. To Aria, but my eyes are on Victoria.
"No problem," Aria says.
"Good," I say. "Victoria, you’re not on the guest list."
"I was invited," she says.
"By who?"
"Does it matter?"
I step between them. "Yes. It matters. Now leave."
"You can’t tell me—"
"I just did."
She laughs. "This is pathetic."
She walks out.
I turn to Aria. "You followed the rules."
"Did I?"
"You didn’t talk to her. You didn’t look at her. You walked away."
"I wanted to throw the wine on her."
"I know," I say, and I’m smiling before I can stop myself. "That’s why I’m proud of you."
Proud.
Shit.
When did I start being proud of her?
"Go finish serving," I say. "I’ll handle the rest."
At 1am I’m in the kitchen. I can’t sleep.
I make tea. Chamomile. Stupid.
I knock on her door.
She opens it. Hair down. No makeup. She looks 19.
"Tea," I say. "You looked like you needed it."
"I’m fine."
"You’re lying." I come in anyway. Set the mug down. "Look, about what I said earlier—"
"Don’t," she says. "Don’t make it weird."
"It’s already weird," I say. "You’re in my house. You’re under my brother’s protection. And I can’t stop thinking about the way you looked at Victoria."
"How did I look?"
"Like you weren’t scared."
We’re too close. I can see the flecks in her eyes.
"You should go," she says.
"Yeah," I say. But I don’t move. "Aria."
"What?"
"Stay out of the west wing."
"I will."
"And stay out of my head."
I leave before I kiss her.
Back in my room I pour a drink. I don’t drink it.
My phone buzzes. Luca.
_She’s a liability._
I don’t answer.
Another buzz. Unknown number.
_You like her. That’s cute. -V_
I delete it.
I sit in the dark and think about Aria in that chair this morning. Back straight. Eyes up.
She didn’t bow.
And now I can’t stop thinking about what it would cost to make her.
God help me before I lose it.
ARIA POVI woke up on the floor duvet with the blanket tangled around my knees.Right side, like always, hand tucked under the pillow, hair stuck to my cheek. The hallway light was still on, soft and yellow, and the kitchen was dark. Chicago gray pressed against the window, not Milan white. Cold, even through glass.For a second my heart jumped, because I thought I was still in 1408. Floor duvet, that thin yellow line under 1208's door, the closet with the cut in my dress. Then the heater clicked in Tower and I remembered. Private elevator, no lobby, no cameras. Vale Tower.I sat up slow, bare feet finding the cold floor, then the warm patch where the heater had been running all night. The blanket slipped off my shoulders and pooled in my lap.Isabella was already in the kitchen. Blazer, no makeup, coffee gone cold in her hand. She doesn't do pajamas. She does blazer at six in the morning, phone face-down on the counter."Sleep okay?" she asked, her voice low, not the Vale voice she u
ARIA POVThe pilot said Chicago in ten minutes, and my stomach dropped before the plane did.I had both hands wrapped around the coffee, black, no sugar, Dante's landing coffee, house rule he said. It was still too hot, burning into my palms, but my feet were cold under the blanket.Luca felt the drop. He didn't say anything. He just pulled the blanket over my feet, the wool catching on my bare ankles, and put his seatbelt over both of us. One belt, his arm over it, heavy and warm.Isabella turned her phone off. Not silent, off. The screen went black, and she set it face-down on the armrest and looked out the window at the clouds breaking open over water."There," Nico said from behind, his finger on the glass. "Lake."I leaned over Luca, the seatbelt pulling across my hips, to see. Lake Michigan, blue and cold from up here, even through the plane window. Then buildings getting bigger, then streets I knew. Not Milan marble and scooters. Chicago brick and traffic lights and that Octobe
ARIA POVI didn't have much to pack.Three black suitcases on the floor, open, that Isabella's people sent up last night while we were at Como. Not mine. Mine was still the one small bag from Day 1, the Moretti house shirt Marco gave me, and the blanket from the floor.Isabella zipped them. Fast, efficient. She doesn't fold, she just makes it fit.Luca stood by the door, checking the hall. Enzo's new lock beeped green when Tony knocked. Our knock.Tony took the bags. He said the cars were downstairs, back entrance, no lobby. Said 1208 was quiet, door closed, no movement. Victoria was still inside.We left 1408 together. I held Luca's hand. I didn't want to look at 1208 but I did. Light under the door, yellow. Nothing else.The service elevator was cold. Mirrored walls. I saw all of us at once. Isabella in her blazer, laptop under her arm, Luca in his suit, Dante with coffees, Enzo with the drive in his pocket, Nico with his hand in his jacket, me in leggings and Marco's shirt, blanket
DANTE POVThe hallway on the sixth floor never really sleeps. Even at 8:15am it hums. AC, ice machine down the hall, that old elevator groan.I stayed up here while Enzo went downstairs. That was the plan. Luca in 1208 with Victoria, Enzo in the basement pulling the keycard logs, and me outside with two coffees trying to look like I just happened to be there.I leaned against the wall opposite 1208, carrier in one hand, phone hot in the other pocket. Recording.I could hear her through the door. Victoria. That sweet LIVE voice she puts on, like honey over glass. Then Luca, low and flat. He wasn't playing her game.He said it clear, right through the wood so my mic caught it: She is not my sister.That was the whole point of this breakfast. She'd been calling Aria his little sister since yesterday in the hallway. Saw Aria behind Isabella and spun it on LIVE so fast. If the photo of them sleeping ever leaked, she wanted people to think, oh, his staff sister is obsessed with him. Not his
LUCA POV 7:00am. Hallway, 6th floor, Moretti Grand.I knocked on 1208 with my left hand. My right hand was in my pocket, holding the small recorder Dante gave me. It was already on.Enzo's new lock worked. Last night 1408 rejected every Caruso master key, including this one. The light over 1208 was still old, it opened with her print. Mine didn't.The door opened before I could knock twice.Victoria was in a white robe. Hair wet, makeup done, like she had been ready since 4am. The shower we heard at 1am was for this. She smiled, wide, camera smile. Her phone was already on a tripod by the window, red light on, LIVE."Luca, you came," she said, loud enough for the mic to catch.I didn't step in right away. "Fifteen minutes," I said, low. "Breakfast, interview, then I leave.""Fifteen is all I need," she said. She stepped back, opened the door wider. "Come in, husband."I stepped in. The suite smelled like her perfume, too sweet, and room service. Two plates, two coffees, one rose. The
ARIA POV 12:35am. Room 1408.Nobody touched the Polaroid after Nico set it down. It sat on the bedside table, facing up, showing all six of us in the hallway outside 1208. Dante closest to the door, Enzo with his hand on his gun, Isabella in front of me, Luca with his hand around mine. It was taken from low down, through a crack, like she was kneeling.She had been watching us while we were watching her.Enzo pulled the curtains first. Not just closed, he pulled them all the way shut and clipped them together with a binder clip from his bag. No crack, no light, no lens."Lights off," Dante said, quiet.Nico killed the main light. The room went dark except for the bathroom glow and the red dot on Enzo's thermal scanner. He moved slow, scanning the bed, the pillows, the sheets where we slept last night.Isabella sat me down on the edge of the tub in the bathroom, away from the windows. "You stay here for five minutes, okay? While they check. I don't want you in there while they look."







