After two hours of greeting guests, my feet throb in my sandals, my face hurts from smiling, and my shoulders ache. Nico won’t relax his grip on my waist, but a pinch forms in my lower back. Pulling away only makes it worse, so after welcoming another family—don’t ask me which; all the faces blur together after the first hundred people—I lift my eyes to my captor and brighten my fake smile.
“How about a beverage?” I ask, willing to fetch him anything he wants if it means a few moments away from him.
He drops his gentleman façade and says a curt no before tilting his chin toward the next group of arrivals.
I silently curse as the Bonnetti family ascends the steps. Alfonso follows his three older brothers. My father leans just enough to meet my eyes over my uncle’s shoulder. The glare steals every ounce of warmth from my soul. Fear blasts through me and sends my heart into overdrive. Horrible visions flash through my mind’s eye.
The last time I saw him look at someone with such menace, he murdered them.
I never should have snuck into his study in the middle of the night, but I loved the smell of books and brandy. He’s never lifted a hand to me, but he’s never needed to. I’m too terrified to test him.
My fingers cramp in Nico’s jacket as I meet my mother’s callous eyes.
I may not have memories of her covered in someone’s blood flashing through my mind’s eye like I do my papà, but she’s always been quick to discipline Camilla and me. Her pinches and slaps hurt as much as her words.
My vision tunnels.
Isacco Bonnetti, Alfonso’s father, shakes my father’s hand.
I can’t breathe.
Nico’s arm tightens around me.
Alfonso’s face fills my vision. His harsh words from three days ago ring in my ears. The distant look in his eyes intensifies my pain.
Standing in a crowd of people I’ve known my entire life, I feel more isolated than ever before.
My head spins and a black hole opens under my feet, but I use Nico’s sturdy frame to avoid free-falling into the bottomless abyss.
I exchange stiff yet polite greetings with each member of the Bonnetti family, relying on muscle memory and my mother’s harsh teachings to remain socially acceptable, but my mind turns off. It’s too much.
Between the sudden change in my fate, the sleepless nights, my lack of appetite, and the overwhelming stress of the last few days, I’ve reached my limit.
I become the wooden doll my mother tried so hard to perfect throughout the years.
Nico’s condescending voice filters into my ears from far away, even though he stands right beside me. His thick fingers press against my cheek and guide my attention up to his face. I blink, but my eyes refuse to focus, and I don’t want them to. His soft curse bounces off my numb shield.
He makes an excuse to my parents and leads me into the house. The halls seem dark compared to the sunshine, but I don’t need to see with Nico leading me. My head spins faster, my chest tightens, and black spots dance in front of my eyes as I stumble forward on legs made of jelly.
“Goddammit, come here, principessa,” Nico growls before scooping me off my feet.
His warm chest begins my thaw. I don’t like it, but I lean my head against his shoulder and start to shake.
Every muscle in my body tightens when he turns down the hall toward my father’s study.
“No. N-not there. Turn around.”
My throat hurts. The black hole grows bigger underneath me. I need to get away. Now.
Nico’s massive hand cups the side of my face and presses my head against his shoulder, blocking out the world.
“Hush, Serenity.” His cologne filters in through my panic. “I got you.” He holds me tighter, protecting me from invisible foes. “You’re okay.” His gait changes as he starts up the stairs. I wring the front of his suit in my hands.
He kicks the door to my room shut with his heel, sits on the bed, and wraps both arms around me. The first tear escapes my lashes.
I don’t want to cry. It’s been years since I’ve had a meltdown, and I’ve never had a big, hard, warm body to curl up against.
Thick fingers tilt my chin up. Shock flows through me at the concern on Nico’s handsome face.
Usually, he reserves his soft expressions for his sisters. He’s never looked at me this way.
Years’ worth of scowls, disapproval, and dismissive glances flip through my mind. I lose it. A sob wrenches from my chest and tears stream down my face.
“You’re safe, Serenity. I’ve got you,” he promises as he tucks me close and rests his cheek on the top of my head.
I purge until my head swims and my chest aches. When my tears slow and I manage my first deep breath in what feels like forever, Nico cups my face between his gigantic hands and wipes my tears with his thumbs.
“Better?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I lie on reflex.
“No, you’re not, but I’ll allow the lie for another minute. Take a few deep breaths and calm down for me, principessa.”
Instincts demand I flee, but his gentle caresses of my face lulls me into an exhausted calm.
His broad shoulders catch my eye.
“Can I…?”
My courage dries up, so I close my eyes and pretend like I didn’t speak, but Nico urges me to continue, so I ask, “Can I lean against you again?”
He gathers me to his chest like I’m the most precious thing in the world. My tears return, but these flow silently down my face.
I wish it were real. I wish he cared for me. My future spans before me, and all I see is a lifetime of loneliness.
“You don’t even need to ask, Serenity. Cry on my shoulder whenever you need. Crawl into my lap whenever you want. My arms are yours; use them however and whenever you need.”
My breath hitches. I lift my head and meet his intense grey eyes.
“Why?”
“My answer is the same as before. There is no why. It just is.”
Fresh tears gather on my lashes, but I don’t want them to fall, so I blink and swallow the lump in my throat.
“Where else are you hurt?”
His question makes no sense. I blink again and tighten my fist in his shirt as I search for whatever connection I’m missing. His eyes darken.
“I’ll kill him,” he snarls.
Alarm snaps through me.
“No! You can’t!”
“Like hell I can’t. He hurt you, Serenity.”
“What? No, he—”
“Don’t defend him when you just had a fucking panic attack from looking at him. He deserves to feel the same pain he gave you, so tell me, principessa—” My insides melt when he cups the back of my head, destroying my hairdo, and kneads my scalp as though to tame a wild animal. “How badly did he hurt you?”
“He didn’t.”
“Did he force himself on you?”
I push against his chest.
“Who the hell are you talking about? My father never hurt me.”
He stills.
“Your father?”
I nod and push again, needing to retreat, but he closes his fist in my hair and angles my head so he has a full view of my face.
“You didn’t have a meltdown because of Alfonso Bonnetti?”
Understanding punches me in the gut. He said he’d kill Alfonso. I gasp and fight for oxygen, but his next question steals what little I find.
“Why would you be afraid of your father?”
I shake my head and try to push away, but he pulls my head back and digs his fingers into my hip, grinding me into his lap. The hard length of his cock shocks me into stillness.
“Don’t forget, piccola principessa, I’m not a civilized man. Just because we’re talking doesn’t mean I don’t want to do unspeakable things to you, so be very, very careful with how you respond to me. Capisci?”
Music thrums through the closed window, but the insulated floors and walls block most of the noise. No one would hear me scream, and even though we’re the guests of honor, no one will miss us until it’s time for our announcement.
He can do whatever he wants with me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. My heart seizes at the feral gleam in his eyes.
“Tell me you understand, Serenity,” he demands with a gentle shake of my hair.
“I understand,” I whisper through the lump in my throat.
“Why are you scared of your father?”
Despite knowing there’s no escape for me, my eyes wander around the room as though a magic portal may open.
“I… I saw—” I stop as bloody visions fill my mind. My bottom lip trembles.
“Does he hurt your mother?”
“No! He would nev—” I cut myself off as I remember the way he looked at me a few minutes ago.
What would stop him from killing his wife if he’s willing to murder his daughter?
“He’s never lifted a hand to any of us, except maybe Giorgio.”
“Then what sent you into a panic attack?”
“The way he looked at me… I saw… he tortured and killed a man in his study when I was eight. I couldn’t sleep, so I snuck out of my room and curled up by his bookshelf. I saw everything. He looked at me the same way he looked at that man, and I couldn’t breathe.”
My chest tightens just thinking about it.
Nico skims his hand from my hip to my collarbone and pulls my head back to expose my throat.
“Don’t fall apart in my lap again, principessa. My control can only stretch so far,” he growls.
With my mind fully in the present and my senses sharpened from fear, adrenaline, and lust, I cling to his suit lapels and swallow.
He groans and curls forward to run his nose up the side of my throat. I shiver. The hair on my nape rises and goosebumps cover my arms.
“So, your father,” he stops with his nose against the shell of my ear, “the great Matteo Vivaldi,” his breath electrifies my flesh as he trails his lips down my throat, “brought someone into your house, a house with young children, and tortured and murdered him while you were supposed to be down the hall in your bed?”
The soft brush of his lips against my collarbone short-circuits my brain and I nod like a dummy despite his hand in my hair.
“You don’t have to worry about him anymore, Serenity.”
“What?”
“You’re mine now. He couldn’t touch you if he tried.”
My heart skips a beat.
“Promise?” I ask.
His tongue teases along my collarbone.
“I’m the only one who can hurt you now, so there’s no reason to fear anyone but me.” He nips the juncture of my shoulder and neck before ghosting his lips up my throat as he whispers, “All that fear? Give it to me. It’s mine now, too.”
My stomach sours.
“You want to hurt me?”
“In the best way,” he murmurs before sealing his lips high on my throat, just below my jaw and over my jugular, and sucks.
My toes curl in my sandals and pleasure-pain streaks up and down my neck. Need flares to life in my core. Molten lava fills my veins.
He lifts his head, groans, and licks over the sore spot before nipping along my jaw.
“I’ll never hurt you like he did, principessa. I’ll never bring my work home. Violence will never enter our house. You’ll be safe with me.”
My breath hitches as I process his words.
I don’t have to ask if he means it. His sincerity shines in his eyes as he meets my gaze.
Tears fill my lashes and drip down my face as mountains of worry lift from my shoulders.
He doesn’t want to hurt me.
“I’m not asking this time, principessa.” His eyes flick down. “These lips are mine.”
I gasp as he lowers his mouth to mine and his tongue takes advantage of my parted teeth. With my defenses stripped away, I give him everything.
He takes. I give him more.
His groan sends a shiver down my spine.
Peace settles over me. My worries may return when I regain my strength, but for now, I bask in the promises he gave me, and for the first time since I visited Camilla in the hospital after her surgery, I don’t feel like I’m heading toward certain doom.
Nico Russo doesn’t hate me. He doesn’t resent me for not being my sister, and he doesn’t want to hurt me.
He wants to marry, protect, and cherish me.
I want that. I want him.
I want to be Nico Russo’s wife.
