Chin

Got it! Here’s a smoother, more immersive version with a slower pace and deeper emotional tension.

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Lucian

"I’ll have Chiara find something for you," I say after a long pause. "Giulia isn’t home at the moment."

Aurora doesn't respond right away. She stands there, hands clasped tightly in front of her, shoulders squared like she’s waiting for a blow to land. There’s no fear in her eyes, but there’s something else—something unreadable that makes me shift uncomfortably.

I don’t like not knowing what’s going on in her head.

"I have a meeting," I add, stepping back toward the door, giving her space. She exhales softly—relief, maybe? The thought sits uneasily in my chest. I tell myself it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.

This wedding is the culmination of careful planning, of debts and deals brokered in shadows. It has nothing to do with how she feels about it.

Still, the way her posture eases when I step away from her stings more than I expect.

"I’ll come get you later," I say. "I want you to join me for lunch."

Her chin lifts slightly, a silent show of defiance, but she only nods.

She’s not a prisoner. Not technically. But I know if I told her she could leave, she’d be gone before the words finished leaving my mouth.

That thought unsettles me in ways I don’t care to examine.

"In the meantime, I’ll have Chiara show you around," I add, pushing the door open. "You’re not a prisoner, Aurora."

The words leave a strange taste in my mouth, because they aren’t entirely true.

I don’t wait for a response. I turn on my heel and stride from the room, maintaining my pace through the halls, my irritation bubbling beneath my skin.

By the time I reach my office, my capos are already gathered. They straighten at my approach, their quiet conversation dying as I step inside.

"Listen up," I say, keeping my voice level but firm. "I’m only going to say this once."

The room stills. Even Nico, lounging lazily against my desk, sharpens at my tone.

"Aurora Fabrizzi is off-limits. If any of you so much as look at her the wrong way, you’ll spend the rest of your miserable life regretting it."

Silence. Tense, heavy silence.

Good.

They need to understand just how serious I am.

"Aldo forgot his place today," I continue, letting my gaze sweep over them. "He thought he could put his filthy hands on what’s mine." My voice drops into a low growl. "I trust none of you will make the same mistake."

I wait, letting the weight of my words settle.

One by one, they nod. A murmured chorus of "Yes, boss" follows.

"Get out," I dismiss them with a jerk of my chin. "Not you, Nico."

The others file out quickly, throwing uneasy glances my way. Nico lingers, watching me with that unreadable look he wears when he thinks I’m making a mistake.

I walk to the window, staring out at the sprawling estate without really seeing it. My hands curl into fists.

"I need to keep her here," I say finally. "But she’s not a prisoner."

Nico snorts. "Does she know that?"

I exhale sharply. "She was supposed to just accept it," I admit. "Out of fear. Desperation. I didn’t care."

I turn to face him.

"But she didn’t. She fights me at every turn."

Nico watches me carefully. "And you find that... attractive?"

I scowl. "That’s not the point."

He crosses his arms, waiting.

I drag a hand through my hair, irritation thrumming beneath my skin.

"This marriage isn’t just about settling her father’s debt," I say, my voice low. "It’s about the future of this family. We need to be strong. Stable. A united front."

"And you think Aurora will just play along?"

I hesitate.

She should. Logically, she should.

But then I remember the fire in her eyes last night. The way she refused to cower beneath me. The defiance in every sharp-edged word she speaks.

She won’t make this easy.

But she will be mine.

"She doesn’t have a choice," I say, my voice quiet but firm.

Nico exhales through his nose, shaking his head. "Just be careful, fratello. I don’t think she’s as fragile as you assume."

My jaw tightens.

I don’t need to be reminded.

I already know.

And that might be the biggest problem of all.

Even to my own ears, the words ring hollow. I have no illusions that this is anything more than a transaction. A means to an end. But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to accept.

There’s nothing more dangerous than a powerful man who thinks he owns you.

Lucian studies me with cool detachment, his sharp, calculating gaze stripping me bare. “Some of the men think you might be more trouble than you’re worth.”

“If they doubt my judgment, they can say it to my face,” he snaps, irritation flashing across his face before it smooths over again. “You just need to play your part long enough for me to get what I want. After that, you can spend the rest of your days in comfort.”

Comfort. The word tastes bitter.

Lucian strides to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. “For the record,” he murmurs, glancing back at me, “I think a woman with some fight in her is exactly what I need. I can’t picture myself with the wilting-flower type.”

The words are unexpected, catching me off guard. He doesn’t wait for a response. With that parting shot, he slips out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I exhale slowly, scrubbing a hand over my face. His words echo in my mind, warring with the cold practicality of my situation.

This is survival. Nothing more.

Yet the lingering image of Aldo stalking toward me makes my skin crawl. If Lucian hadn’t shown up when he did…

A shudder rips through me, and I wrap my arms around myself. I don’t want to imagine what could have happened. What I do want to know is where the hell Lucian took him—and what he intends to do with him. And my father, for that matter.

He has vowed to let me watch when he makes my sorry excuse of a father suffer. A dark part of me wonders if that promise extends to Aldo, too.

A firm knock at the door jolts me from my spiraling thoughts. I smooth my clammy hands over my borrowed jeans.

“Come in,” I call, forcing my voice steady.

The door swings open, and Lucian steps inside, impeccably tailored in a dark suit, his curls styled with effortless precision. His presence commands the room, like he owns it. Owns everything in it.

I lift my chin. “Enough with the games. We both know I’m trapped here. I won’t pretend otherwise.”

One dark brow lifts in amusement. “Trapped?” He hums as he steps closer. “I’ve offered you a reasonable deal. You marry me, I keep you safe, settle your father’s debts, and give you your shot at revenge.”

He’s too close now, his heat pressing into my space. I refuse to back away.

“Lunch is ready,” he says, tone casual, but the underlying command isn’t lost on me.

I press my lips together but nod. “Fine. Lead the way.”

Lucian doesn’t bother checking if I follow. He simply walks, expecting obedience. I grit my teeth, falling into step behind him.

We settle on a sun-dappled patio, the intimate table set for two. The spread of food is mouthwatering, but my stomach is too twisted in knots to enjoy it. Lucian serves me himself, his fingers brushing mine as he hands me a plate. I jerk back at the electric shock of his touch.

His lips curl. “You don’t get to have conditions, Aurora. I already own you.”

I stab my pasta with unnecessary force. “Forgive me if I’m not thrilled at being traded like a piece of property.”

His gaze flickers with something unreadable. “What would you have done?” he asks quietly. “Refused? Fought me off?”

I hesitate. “Why me? Why not choose someone you actually love?”

Lucian leans back in his chair, considering me. “Maybe I’m tired of women throwing themselves at my feet. Maybe I want someone with fire in her blood.”

I scoff. “Because that’s reassuring.”

A slow smirk tugs at his mouth. “I like to think I’m not the worst of them.”

He’s watching me too closely, studying every reaction.

I drain most of my wine in one swallow, letting the tart liquid steady my nerves. As much as I hate to admit it, Lucian is my best shot at a life free from fear.

But I need to know he’ll keep his end of the deal.

I set my glass down with a deliberate click. “Fine. But I have conditions.”

His smirk widens. “Do you now?”

“I won’t be controlled. I won’t be silenced. I’ll be your wife, not your prisoner.”

Lucian’s gaze darkens, but he stays silent, waiting.

“And you won’t touch me,” I add, heart hammering. “Not until after we’re married.”

For a long moment, he says nothing. Then, finally—

“Tomorrow,” he confirms. “I’ll take you to see your father.”

The dark promise in his tone chills me to the bone.