Chapter Three

Rose Alexandria Sinclair

I woke up in silk sheets.

For one blissfully stupid moment, I thought the last twenty-four hours had been a nightmare.

Then I saw the guards outside the bedroom door.

Reality crashed back instantly.

My breathing slowed as I sat up carefully, pain throbbing through the side of my head. The room around me was massive, drenched in warm golden sunlight spilling through floor-to-ceiling windows.

Luxury surrounded me everywhere.

Black marble floors.

Cream-colored walls trimmed in gold.

A crystal chandelier hanging high above.

The city skyline stretched endlessly beyond the glass windows, glittering beneath the morning sun.

Everything smelled expensive.

Clean.

Cold.

Nothing like the cramped apartment I grew up in.

Nothing like home.

I swallowed hard.

Frederico’s world.

The thought alone sent unease twisting through my stomach.

I pushed the blankets away slowly—

And froze.

A black dress rested neatly at the end of the bed.

Beside it sat a folded note.

My chest tightened the second I recognized the handwriting.

Even after eight years…

I still knew it instantly.

Wear it.

Dinner at eight.

Don’t make me come dress you myself.

— F

My fingers tightened around the paper.

The handwriting was different now.

Sharper.

Cleaner.

Controlled.

But it was still his.

I used to watch Frederico scribble across the edges of his notebooks during class whenever he got angry.

Violent pen strokes.

Too much pressure.

Ink stains smeared across his fingers.

Back then, he hated expensive things.

Hated rich people.

Hated the Di Grazia name most of all.

Funny.

Now he lived like a king.

I closed my eyes briefly.

And suddenly—

I was seventeen again.

“Rosa!”

I looked up from my locker just in time to see Frederico leaning against the school gate outside.

A motorcycle helmet rested beneath his arm.

His lip was split again.

Bruises darkened his knuckles.

God.

Back then, he was always bleeding from something.

The girls around me whispered immediately.

Some admired him.

Most feared him.

Frederico Di Grazia carried trouble around him like smoke.

But when his eyes found mine—

He smiled.

And just like that, the terrifying boy everybody warned me about disappeared.

“There’s my girl,” he called lazily.

Heat rushed to my cheeks instantly.

“Your girl?” I laughed while walking toward him. “Since when?”

“Since you keep crawling back to me.”

I rolled my eyes, but he only grinned wider.

God, I used to love that smile.

The old Frederico always looked rough around the edges.

Dark hair falling into his eyes.

Leather jackets.

Bruised fists.

Danger hiding beneath beautiful skin.

He came from money, but nobody would’ve guessed it looking at him.

Frederico hated everything connected to the Di Grazia family.

Especially his father.

“You fought again?” I asked softly once I got closer.

His expression darkened slightly.

“Nothing serious.”

Lie.

It was always serious.

I reached up carefully, touching the cut on his mouth.

“You need to stop letting people hit your face.”

His hand caught my wrist gently.

“They should stop giving me reasons.”

Typical Frederico.

Violent.

Moody.

Impossible.

But never with me.

Never.

Sometimes I used to think I was the only soft thing left inside him.

“Get on the bike, Rosa,” he murmured.

“Where are we going?”

“Skipping class.”

“Frederico—”

“C’mon.” His fingers brushed my waist lightly. “You love me too much to say no.”

I hated how right he was.

I climbed onto the motorcycle behind him with a laugh, wrapping my arms around his waist as the engine roared to life beneath us.

Back then, being with him felt dangerous in the best way.

Like standing too close to fire.

I rested my cheek against his back as we sped through the city streets.

And for the first time in years—

I remembered what it felt like before everything fell apart.

Before the blood.

Before the obsession.

Before Frederico became someone the world feared.

Back then, he was just mine.

A knock at the bedroom door ripped me violently back to reality.

I opened my eyes slowly.

The memory shattered instantly.

One of the guards stepped inside without permission.

“Miss Sinclair.”

I straightened immediately.

“What?”

“Mr. Di Grazia requested you eat.”

Requested.

The word almost made me laugh.

As if I had a choice here.

The guard gestured toward a silver tray sitting near the fireplace. Fresh fruit, coffee, and expensive pastries rested neatly on top.

I stared at it suspiciously.

“What if I don’t want it?”

The guard looked uncomfortable suddenly.

“That would… upset him.”

A chill slid down my spine.

Of course it would.

After forcing myself to eat a few bites, I wandered through the massive bedroom until I found the bathroom.

And God—

It was bigger than our entire apartment.

Black marble.

Gold fixtures.

A bathtub large enough to drown in.

Everything in Frederico’s world screamed wealth in the most excessive way possible.

I stood there silently for a long moment before turning on the shower.

Hot water poured over my skin, washing away dried blood and exhaustion, but none of it touched the heaviness sitting inside my chest.

Frederico.

Even thinking his name made my stomach twist now.

I remembered the boy who used to steal cheap wine and kiss me behind school buildings like I was something precious.

And somehow…

That same boy had grown into a man capable of kidnapping me without hesitation.

I shut my eyes tightly beneath the water.

Maybe the signs had always been there.

Maybe I had just loved him too much to notice.

When I finally stepped out of the bathroom, steam curled around me as I stared at the black dress waiting on the bed.

Of course he picked black.

The dress was elegant. Expensive. Smooth silk that clung to every curve of my body once I slipped it on.

Too beautiful for a prison.

I dried my hair carefully, styling it the best I could with trembling fingers before putting on the heels left beside the bed.

Then I sat there.

Waiting.

The silence stretched painfully.

One hour.

Then another.

By the time the bedroom door finally opened, my nerves were completely destroyed.

Frederico walked in like he owned the air itself.

Black suit.

Silver watch.

Dark tattoos disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.

His gaze landed on me instantly.

And stayed there.

Heat crept uncomfortably beneath my skin.

He closed the door behind him slowly before sliding one hand into his pocket, cigarette balanced between his fingers.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Frederico stared at me in complete silence, his eyes moving slowly over every inch of me.

Not rushed.

Not subtle.

Possessive.

Like he was memorizing what belonged to him.

“You clean up nicely, Rosa,” he murmured.

My pulse stumbled at the nickname.

I hated that he still remembered exactly how to affect me.

He walked toward me slowly.

Too slowly.

Every step tightened the tension in the room until breathing itself felt difficult.

I stayed perfectly still when he stopped directly in front of me.

Then suddenly—

His hand settled against the side of my neck.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

Frederico leaned down slightly, brushing his nose slowly against my skin beneath my ear.

The gesture was almost intimate.

Almost gentle.

But the dark chuckle that left him afterward ruined it completely.

“Impressive,” he murmured softly.

My stomach twisted violently.

“Let’s go.”

He pulled away before I could react, already turning toward the door.

I stood quickly. “Where are we going?”

Frederico paused.

Then he glanced back at me over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

“To remind people you’re alive.”

The answer sent unease crawling through my chest.

“What does that mean?”

He stepped closer again suddenly, tilting his head while studying my face.

“It means,” he said quietly, “that the entire city spent eight years believing I’d never find you.”

His fingers brushed lightly beneath my chin.

“And tonight,” he murmured, eyes darkening, “they learn I did.”