Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Rosalie tried to breathe, but she was breathless, she was in a thick white gown, in a limousine with no air conditioning. It was unnaturally humid in Sicily today and the dress was too hot for her to wear. Or the driver didn’t care that she was seconds away from taking her last breath.

There was no one on her side. She was being sold off to the highest bidder. She was just a piece of meat for her family to sell off.

She stared out the limousine window, watching the view as they drove to the Moretti estate. Her new home. She was fascinated by the landscape. 

She didn’t get out often. Her family kept her at home for a reason. She knew it was because they feared what would happen if she got out. They feared she would do more damage than good.

She wasn’t like her sister Elena. Elena was beautiful and intelligent like her mother used to say. Rosalie’s intelligence scared them. 

Elena was perfect, she got the best qualities of the family, Elena was tanned, had beautiful golden locks and bright blue eyes, the kind that attracted men. she had a smile to die for. Whereas Rosalie had her father’s dark straight black hair, her mother’s brown dull eyes, and she didn’t smile much. It’s not that she didn’t like to smile. She never found a reason to. She didn’t feel emotions like her family did. Because she didn’t get out much, she was unnaturally pale.

When she was six years old her family thought she was possessed by the devil and had the bishop come and try to exorcise the demon out of her. All it did was anger her and drive her even further from her loving family.

She let out a strangled breath. She didn’t know how to act in front of her new husband. At the wedding he barely glanced at her way. He kissed her cheek and not her lips. She believed Roman Moretti was dragged into this marriage the same way she was.

She wasn’t great on physical contact, after the exorcism she didn’t like people touching her, but she didn’t mind him touching her hand. It made her curious about her wifely duties her mother told her about. Her mother warned her to let him touch her and to let him have his way with her because it was his husbandly right.

Her mind kept reeling in why her family didn’t marry Elena to the great Roman Moretti if he was so great. Her sister was meant to be a Mafia wife. Whereas she preferred to stay in the background. Her mother and sister had someone turn her into someone she didn’t recognize, her hair was pulled back into a low intricate bun at the base of her skull, where the veil Roman removed at the church had hung. She had hair in her face, something she never did to her hair. The silk wedding dress felt like a weighted cage on her. 

Everything about today felt like she was moving from one cage to another. She didn’t have a say in any of the wedding planning. She didn’t meet her groom until she walked down the aisle.

The forced marriage to Roman Moretti, a man whose name whispered fear and respect in equal measure throughout the Sicilian underworld. Her sister spent the entire two months trying to break her. She tried to make her fear Roman Moretti. 

Elena Bianchi. Her sister, her beautiful, viperish sister, had woven a web of deceit and dangling Rosalie’s freedom as a weapon used against her. 

Elena, with her mesmerizing smile and insatiable hunger for wealth and influence, had spun a tale of wealth and luxury in her future, when she saw Rosalie fighting back, she tried to instill fear in Rosalie. Rosalie paid for the little she fought back. She wanted to get out of her sister’s thumb. She couldn’t be what she used to be.

Rosalie hadn't wanted this. She'd envisioned a life dedicated to her studies, to unraveling the complex mysteries of chemistry, not to the complicated workings of a Mafia family. Her passion wasn't for power or wealth, but for the precise science of poisons, a skill she'd honed since childhood, a secret she guarded close to her heart. Something her family knew about and feared. 

They feared she would end up killing them on day if they pissed her off enough. They feared how unfeeling she was. They feared how she cared more for an aged gardener than she did them. And when her father ordered said gardener to be killed because of her sister’s lies. 

Her father paid for it. So did her sister. And this is where it got her. Forced to marry a man they thought could control her. They wanted to scare her into submission. 

Her new husband had no idea he was a part of her family’s powerplay. She planned to keep her secret from her new family. A secret that gave her the power and control she craved. Nothing else gave her the same feeling as a power she understood in ways that terrified and excited her in equal measures.

The limousine pulled up to an estate she knew belonged to the Moretti family. Her knew home. It was so much bigger than the mansion her parents owned, the front side of the house or better yet mansion was carved from stone and draped in bougainvillea. The Moretti mansion, it was Roman’s private mansion, her mother mentioned the rest of the family lives on the estate in one of the smaller villas.

Roman Moretti himself awaited her at the entrance. He was just as imposing as she remembered. They were apart for a few hours and seeing him standing arms crossed waiting for his wife to get out of the limousine. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark green eyes cold as ice, he radiated an aura of raw power that chilled her to the bone. 

His tailored suit did little to hide the physique of a man accustomed to violence, a man whose very presence spoke of a life steeped in shadow and bloodshed. He was everything she wasn't, everything she feared, and yet, a strange, unsettling curiosity stirred within her. 

It did something to she wasn’t familiar with, a feeling she wasn’t familiar with, she felt fear and curiosity, she was sure if she upset the man he would put a bullet in her head and yet she still curious as to what his buttons were…

Their second meeting was marked by a chilling silence. He offered no warmth, no welcoming smile. His gaze was sharp, assessing, as if he were looking out for her flaws, her weaknesses. She, in turn, met his gaze unflinchingly, a silent battle of wills waged across the threshold of his massive home. 

She was a pawn in his game, she knew, yet a small, defiant spark flickered in her chest. She would not break easily. She grew up in the Bianchi home. It would take a lot more than his ice stares to break her. She knew her own flaws better than he did. She didn’t even flinch when people assessed her.

As Roman led her into his mansion Rosalie’s eyes roamed the marble hallway richly decorated with accents of gold, each decoration screamed wealth, it was garish like her parents’ home, her parents cut her off after they believed she tried to kill her, they spent money meant for her education on having someone come in and redecorate their home, with more gold, more marble more money down the drain is how she felt.

Rosalie tried to follow Roman at his speed, but he had longer legs than she did. Roman was at least 6’5 she was a 5’2 on a good day, plus she was wearing these ridiculously high heels Elena picked out for her. 

Rosalie nearly tripped over her own two feet causing her to fall into Roman, she hadn’t realized he’d stopped. 

He helped her back onto her feet. 

“Are you alright little Bianchi?” he asks. 

Rosalie cleared her throat and nodded her head. “I-I’m fine… Sorry I don’t normally wear heels…” she realizes her mistake. As his wife, she should be accustomed to wearing heels. She back tracks. “I mean heels this high. I know how to walk on heels…” she smiles awkwardly. 

Roman watched her quietly. Roman noted that she didn’t wear heels when she got out of the car, she had been walking no wobbling behind him the entire time, he was surprised she hadn’t fallen earlier. His wife has never worn heels in her life. 

His initial assessment of her as a mere pawn started to shift, something about her naivety and innocence drew him in. The mere fact that she wasn’t shaking in her boots right now impressed him. Something tugged at his insides. A feeling unfamiliar to him. He didn’t know what it was about the little innocent Bianchi, he didn’t even know Elena had a younger sister until she approached him. 

She was the Bianchi’s best kept secret and he could see why. She was so tiny and beautiful. Her skin was pale, like she’s never seen sunlight in her entire life. Her eyes were dark brown, her gaze was curious mixed with something he didn’t know what though, he’d soon find out. Her dark hair was tied to the back, with two pieces the thinks his sister called money pieces. 

Alice was always trying to teach him more about women, but he didn’t give a shit. He only pretended to listen for her benefit. He loved his little sister, ten years his junior and the same age as his wife. His wife was twenty while he was thirty. 

Roman led his wife into the dining room where his family was waiting for them. 

She sat to his right where he sat at the head of the table. This was their first meal together with his wife. He can’t remember the last time he ate with his family either. He was always busy, never home, something his wife would have to become accustomed to. 

Rosalie watched the servants move around silently, they served Roman first, then they served his father, uncles, brother, and cousins, when they were done with the men, they served Rosalie first of the women, then they moved on to his mother, his aunts and then his sister was served last. Rosalie met Alice last night, she was too sweet for the world they lived in. This world would eat her up and spit her out. 

The food was immaculate Rosalie had no complaints. She ate quietly while the rest of the family talked amongst themselves. She could feel Roman’s eyes on her. She hoped he didn’t see through her façade, nothing good would come from him knowing she wasn’t the sweet and innocent wife he was promised. The woman who could run his household. She wasn’t capable of doing any of those things. 

After dinner, Rosalie was led to her bedroom. She was relieved to know she didn’t share a room with her husband. Once she was alone, her eyes trailed around her new prison cell. She realized she had a large closet; she was excited at the prospect of turning it into a lab for her experiments. Since she wouldn’t be allowed to finish her studies. She could still get her cousin Ari to get her books and supplies she needed. They would need to sneak them in. She always had ordered to fill out, her cousin visiting frequently might raise a few brows, but she would find it hard to leave the estate without Roman knowing. He has many eyes around the estate; she clocked them when she made her way in.

She quietly took her boxes filled with supplies and hid them at the back of her closet. She would need to build something up so no one could see her lab. She didn’t want a maid or her husband finding out she’s not a secret she didn’t want people to know about. 

She packed away her clothes, when Roman’s servants came to pick up her things, they asked her if she wanted them to pack any of her things out, she straight out refused their help. She didn’t want to explain why she had vials of powders and a kit of dried out plants. She had too much to hide. She was beginning to feel the weight of her double life and she hasn’t even been Roman’s wife for a full day yet.

When Rosalie got to her last box, with her books and notes she placed them in the bookcase, she’d turned all the books and notes covers into romance novel covers. Her husband would think she loved romance novels, and she was fine with that. It was better than knowing what she really did in her free time. Her mother thought she’d long given up this life. She assumed Rosalie was growing into the woman she always wanted her to be. 

She didn’t like lying but she hated how her family always judged the way she was. They encouraged Elena to follow her dreams; they encouraged her to try to break her own sister. Whereas they viewed her as the devil reincarnated.