I shift in my seat and fight against the blush rising from my toes as my sore pussy complains. Emotions clog my throat and I flip to the next page as the rest of my group does the same.
This week needs to end. Group critiques are the worst. At least we finished eviscerating my project for the day and can focus on other people’s sculptures.
From the high of my sexual awakening last night and the sensual ecstasy of this morning to the low of the awkward car ride and the painful words of my peers, my head hurts from the emotional swings.
Donald’s laugh pulls me out of my musings. Becca opens her mouth to send him a scathing retort, but her eyes widen and her thoughts drain away as she glances over my shoulder. As I turn to look, Ralf’s expression darkens, and fear twists my stomach.
Nico, sans his coat and tie, with the sleeves of his button down rolled up to reveal his forearms, strides down the amphitheater aisle toward my group.
No, not toward my group. Straight toward me.
My heart gives a heavy squeeze as my lower half melts.
I appreciate his attempt to blend into the college atmosphere, but the casual look is way too sexy on him. Every feminine eye follows his progress down the steps. Becca’s reaction flashes through my mind’s eye.
Jealousy eats at my insides like acid. I swallow and clench my hands into fists. Violence terrifies and disgusts me, but Nico brings out the worst in me. A week ago, when my parents changed the terms of the Vivaldi-Russo marriage contract, I came so close to punching Nico in the face. Today, I want to slap every woman on campus.
He’s ruined me.
My anger morphs to apprehension as he continues down the steps toward me. The sun shines off his pitch-black hair and highlights his honeyed complexion. His tattoos add an extra edge to his menacing aura. Butterflies attack my belly as he traps me in his hungry gaze.
Becca says something, but I can’t hear her over the pounding of my heart. I stand when he’s a few rows away, not wanting to meet him at too much of a disadvantage, but his smirk steals the strength from my legs.
He slides his arm around me, grabs my waist, and pivots me to face my group as he tucks me against his side.
“Introduce me to your friends, principessa,” he says.
I vaguely recall Becca asking who the mystery hunk was and if he was single. Joy blooms through me as I realize he’s openly declaring he is, in fact, not single, until I notice the wariness on the other guys’ faces.
He’s not declaring his relationship status; he’s claiming me. The macho posturing steals my joy even as my lower belly throbs in delight.
I consider pushing him away, but Ralf’s expression sours my stomach. The aloofness in his eyes hides his menace too well and clashes with the fury I saw a few seconds ago.
Nico flexes his fingers into my waist and quirks a brow down at me.
The challenge in his gaze is too much to ignore.
He’s not the only one who can mark his territory.
Knowing I’ll regret my actions later but eager to taste him again, I press my front against his and rise onto tiptoes to grab his hair. Relief pours through me as he willingly follows my lead when I tug him toward me—I never would have been able to show my face in school again if he’d denied me—and need pulses in my clit as hunger darkens his grey eyes.
I pull his lips down to mine and boldly invade his mouth, mimicking his domination despite every cell in my body turning to goo, and lose myself in his strength. To my surprise, he pulls back before I take it too far. He licks the corner of my mouth as he lifts his head. His heavy-lidded gaze drops the bottom out of my stomach.
“I missed you.” I shock myself with the guttural declaration.
Delight and surprise widen his eyes, but his lips curl in a satisfied smile and his expression intensifies.
“I missed you, too,” he says.
My heart flutters. He means it.
Donald clears his throat. I blush and release Nico’s hair before moving back to his side.
“Everyone, this is Nico, my fiancé,” I say, and deciding to play even dirtier, I place my hand on his chest and show off my ring. Becca’s eyes zero in on the multiple diamonds glittering from the band.
That’s right. I’m a petty bitch now. Just imagine how expensive the wedding band will be if this is only the engagement ring I project toward Becca.
Her jaw drops before her entire face tightens in anger.
Well, now that I’ve gained enemy number one in my class, I’m ready to hightail it out of here, but Ralf’s predatory glare fills me with queasiness, so I fist Nico’s shirt at the small of his back and lean into him as I introduce him to each of my group members.
He reacts the same to each name spoken, but his body tenses toward Ralf.
Predator knows predator, even without exchanging words. The silent posturing fills me with angst.
“Are you done for the day?” Nico asks.
“Almost. We haven’t—”
“You should totally just go,” Becca says. “We already discussed your piece, and you can give me your notes about the others, if you have any.”
I glance at the crumpled papers in my seat.
“I’ll rewrite my notes for tomorrow,” I say before pulling away from Nico. Surprisingly, he lets me go. I grab my bag off the floor and stuff the papers into the main pocket before zipping it closed.
Nico takes it from me without asking and swings it over his shoulder before weaving his fingers within mine.
“Ready?” he asks.
With my tongue twisted in my dry mouth, I nod. He grunts a farewell to my classmates before leading me up the stairs to the exit.
My new guard—I’ll need to hear his name a few more times before it’ll stick—rises from the bench and strolls through the grass a few paces behind us.
Nico’s eyes never cease scanning the area as he leads me down the walkway to the parking lot. When he realizes I’m struggling to keep up with his long legs, he shortens his stride, pulls me against his side, and throws his arm over my shoulders.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Your parents’ house.”
“Why?”
“Your father asked to speak with me.”
“Oh.”
“And I thought you might want to talk to Camilla.”
I almost trip as unease steals through me.
“What? Why would I—?”
“I saw the way you looked at her yesterday.”
When I can’t figure out what to say, I respond with a lame oh. A smile tugs at his lips as he opens the passenger door for me.
Guilt builds in my chest. I haven’t given Camilla more than a passing thought since I saw her yesterday, but maybe she’ll forgive me with all the chaos I’ve been through. I swallow and settle into the passenger seat. Nico shuts the door and walks around the front of the car.
A man sits in the truck parked in front of us with his arms crossed over his chest and sunglasses over his eyes. Another man watches us from a few parking spots over. A woman with a vaguely familiar face drops into the vehicle on the other side.
“Are they yours?” I ask. He follows my gaze to the woman.
“No, principessa. They’re yours.”
“What?”
“They’ve been following you for a week already.”
I blink and scan the area.
He backs the vehicle out of the parking spot and shifts into drive before I find anything else out of the ordinary. Several emotions flip through me, but I’m not sure which one wins, so I settle on neutrality.
“How many?” I ask.
“How many did you see?” he quips.
I sigh and rub my temples as a headache forms.
“How many names do I need to learn?”
“Only Marcello’s.”
“Right, Marcello.” The guy on the bench. “And how many faces do I need to be familiar with? You know, so I don’t hit the emergency button on one of your own men.”
“You should know that already.”
The fury in his tone stabs deep into my chest. I resist the urge to curl my shoulders and turn to meet his gaze head on instead.
Fear thrums through me, and even though I’m always aware of his size, his anger makes him seem bigger. My palms sweat.
“How am I supposed to know that?” I ask, even though I know it’s stupid to poke the bear.
“By being aware of your fucking surroundings,” he snarls.
I jerk away from him even though he hasn’t lifted his hands from the wheel.
“And what am I looking for, exactly? Weren’t you the one who said I should only watch you? Aren’t you the only danger to me?”
I know it’s a low blow. It doesn’t even make sense. He said those words to me yesterday, and we’re talking about things that started last week.
But he also made me trust him. I’d rather he show his true colors now instead of waiting until I fall deeper in love with him.
I freeze. My brain stops. I can’t breathe.
I love him? I love him? I love him?
Who in their right mind falls in love with their sister’s arranged husband? Who falls in love with the man they hated a week ago but were forced to betroth? Who falls in love after losing their virginity to a mafia kingpin?
Me. I’m the idiot who falls in love with an infuriating, terrifying asshole who is also the most powerful mafia don in New York City.
So of course he’s pissed I’m not aware of my surroundings.
But why is he this angry?
If he grips the steering wheel any harder, it may break.
“Did your father teach you anything?”
I flinch at his scathing tone. My head pounds and my heart hurts.
Everyone else I ever thought loved me turned their backs on me. My parents gave me away without a second thought. Alfonso ended a lifelong relationship over the phone. Hell, my mother’s primary love language is a swift backhand.
I blink back useless tears but turn my face toward the window when they gather on my lashes anyway.
There’s no way to hide my ragged breaths in the silence, so I clamp my teeth together and regulate my breathing through my nose. When the urge to sob fades away—I don’t even know why I want to cry; he wasn’t particularly cruel—I swallow and cross my arms over my chest.
“Why are you still being loyal to your father when he tossed you away without a second thought?”
I flinch again as he crosses too many lines to count.
“He gave you to me, Serenity. You won’t have the Vivaldi name for much longer. Not even your parents can save you anymore.”
I ball my hands into fists and pretend like I can’t hear him, but his words land like blows.
“Matteo Vivaldi failed to protect his eldest child and sacrificed his youngest daughter to the devil to cover his mistakes. Stop idolizing him and wake up, would you?”
He may not be hissing, cursing, or hitting like mamma, but his scathing tone hurts just as much. Misery fills my bones with lead.
“We live in a dangerous world, principessa, but you have your head up in the clouds instead of on the threats around you. You won’t last much longer if you don’t pay attention.”
I snap.
“And that’s a bad thing? Neither of us wanted this marriage, anyway. Having a threat take me out will be much more convenient, don’t you think?”
His hand weaves into my hair and jerks me toward him.
“Take it back, Serenity. Your safety is not something to joke about,” he snarls.
“I didn’t make a joke,” I say as familiar numbness rises from my toes.
My entire body ices over in anticipation of violence, just like it does before mamma gets physical.
“I will not have your death on my conscience too, so start paying attention to your goddamn surroundings,” he commands.
My scalp stings as he gives my head a small tug, but he releases me and puts both hands on the wheel.
He slows the car and turns into the driveway for the Vivaldi family home. The guard waves him through.
I open the door as soon as he parks the car and make it halfway up the stairs before he catches up with me. He presses his hand to my lower back and ushers me toward the front door.
I unconsciously hold my breath, waiting for him to lash out, but he nods at the doorman and leads me inside in silence. He greets my father with cool respect as though he didn’t just trash him to his own daughter and then, to add insult to injury, hands said daughter to him in mock expectation.
The layers of deceit and animosity stack on top of my head and exacerbate my headache. I greet my father with enough poise to rival royalty. My mother would be proud if she were here.
They dismiss me without fanfare. I stand alone in the foyer for a few minutes, willing my heart to beat again, and head up the stairs when I don’t feel like shattering into a million pieces anymore. With each step, I gather my shields around me and reinforce them as best I can.
Nico ruined my sense of security and abandoned me. The past twenty-four hours catch up with me, and I stop to brace myself on the hall table at the top of the stairs.
He knew exactly what buttons to press, didn’t he?
I square my shoulders and shove my emotions into tidy little boxes in my mind, knowing the practice won’t last, but willing to do anything to prevent my meltdown just a little longer.
Two fully laden food trays sit on the floor outside of Camilla’s room. Both are cold.
It’s almost dinnertime.
I knock. No one answers, so I crack the door open.
“Camilla?”
All the lights are off. Water runs in the bathroom, but it’s not the heavy rush of the shower. I push into the room and turn on the overhead lights. Fear squeezes my heart as I notice the empty pill bottles lying on the bed and side table, but I breathe easier when I round the corner of the bed and find pills scattered all over the floor.
“Camilla?”
I call out my sister’s name and rush into the bathroom. Smears of blood line the counter. The sink spits out water at full power. I turn off both the hot and cold handles and fight through a surge of nausea as I eye the blood-soaked hand towel on the floor.
I follow the trail of blood to the water closet. Bloody hospital grade disposable underwear overflow the trash can. Crimson stains the toilet seat.
“Camilla!”
Panic sharpens my senses. I rush to the only room left—her walk-in closet—and halt in the doorway as terror sweeps through me. Camilla lies balled up in the corner on her side, partially hidden behind the hanging clothes. I dart around the jewelry stand, bench, and hatrack and drop to my knees beside her.
She’s wearing the same long, flowy shirt she wore to my engagement announcement, which was only yesterday but feels like a lifetime ago, but no pants.
When I call her name and she doesn’t respond, terror and panic tunnel my vision. I scream her name again and roll her over.
Her pale face and blank eyes shrivel my soul, but she blinks, and relief pours through me as I realize she isn’t dead.
“Oh my god, why is there so much blood? Camilla don’t go to sleep. Stay awake. I’ll call nine-one—”
She knocks my phone out of my hand with a weak, uncoordinated slap.
“No,” she croaks.
“You’re bleeding. We need—”
“It stopped. I’m fine.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she closes her eyes and shakes her head.
“I’m tired, Senny,” she whispers.
The defeat in her tone drops a rock into my stomach.
“Don’t go to sleep, Cams. Tell me what happened.”
She shakes her head again. I pinch her chin and tap her cheek before checking her limbs. Her cast and fingers have blood all over them, but her thighs have a thicker coating of red.
“I couldn’t do it,” she whispers.
I stiffen and flip up the bottom hem of her shirt.
A single thin line along her upper thigh boasts a crusted trail of crimson. Half an inch higher and a centimeter deeper, and she’d have sliced her femoral artery.
“I don’t want to die, not really. I just don’t know why I should keep living,” she whispers in a robotic voice.
My heart breaks for her.
“Whatever happened, whatever’s wrong, I’m here for you, Cams. You don’t have to do this alone,” I say as I pull her into my lap and hug her close.
She shakes her head.
“You’ve done too much already. I’m sorry, Serenity.”
I shake my head along with her. A part of me realizes we look ridiculous on the floor in her closet, shaking our heads like mindless dolls, but only one thing matters right now.
Taking care of Camilla.
I stroke her matted hair away from her face and hold her tight against my chest, soothing her as best I can while I get my head on straight.
Hatred blooms in my gut as I note my mother’s absence. She should be here comforting my sister.
“Has anyone checked on you since yesterday?”
“There’s nothing to check.”
Her empty response awakens a stubborn fierceness within me.
“Don’t say things like that,” I snap, but guilt softens my tone. “Let’s get you clean and comfortable.”
She sighs but allows me to pull her to her feet. I stretch her uninjured arm over my shoulders and shuffle into the bathroom with her. Afraid I won’t be able to get her out of the bath, I sit her on the bench in the shower.
She only moves when I urge her with gentle hands. My stomach curdles as I pull her shirt over her head. Yellow and green bruises cover her entire body. The incisions on her belly don’t look infected, but an ice pack would reduce the inflammation.
I pull the detachable shower head off the wall and adjust the water before washing her from head to toe, being careful not to get her cast wet. The cut on her thigh oozes when I wash away the dried blood, but the water makes it seem worse than it is, so I finish as quickly as possible, dry her body while she’s still on the shower bench, wrap her in a towel, and fetch the first aid kit in the linen closet.
I smear ointment on the cut and tape a bandage on top before rummaging through the cabinet and finding a clean pair of disposable underwear and a large sleep shirt. She lets me dress her like a life-sized barbie doll. I finger-comb her hair and help her to the bed, forgetting about the pills until they crunch under my shoes.
She turns down the top blanket, flicking the bottles off, and settles between the sheets as though there’s nothing wrong. I tuck her in and kick the pills under her bed before refilling her glass from the second sink in the bathroom and getting her to sip half of it before she turns me away.
“Have you eaten anything today?”
“I’m not hungry. Go away, Serenity.”
There’s no heat in her dismissal, but I wish there were.
With her as safe and comfortable as I can make her, I step into the hall and close the door. I drop my forehead against the wood and allow myself a few moments to cry before I pull myself together. With angry swipes over my cheeks, I wipe away my tears and stomp down the hall in search of my mother.
I find her in the dinette with a cup of coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. Her smile as she stares at her screen pisses me off.
“Mamma, what are you doing?”
Her smile fades and she lifts a derisive brow as she shifts her gaze to mine.
“Excuse me?”
“Are you really sitting here drinking coffee and scrolling social media with a smile on your fucking face while your daughter is upstairs trying to kill herself?”
I don’t quite yell, but I’ve never raised my voice to my mother. My heart quails as she stands and glares at me.
“Watch your tone, Serenity.”
The urge to pull my hair and scream in frustration nearly wins.
“That’s not important right now, Mamma. Camilla needs help and—”
“Is this because you’re engaged to a Russo now? Do you really think you can speak to me this way without consequences?”
I stand my ground despite every cell in my body demanding I flee as she steps toward me.
“Put your hand on the table,” she demands.
Fear closes my throat.
“Camilla is fine,” she lies as she scoots her steaming coffee across the table and steps closer. “You’re still a Vivaldi.” She grabs my wrist and jerks me toward the table. “You’ll always be a Vivaldi.”
With my paralysis broken, I push at her arm and try to tug free, but she tightens her grip on my wrist and forces my palm flat onto the table.
“Mamma, stop. I’m sorry, I—”
“You spent one night away, and you’ve forgotten everything, haven’t you?”
I watch in horror as she lifts the coffee cup over my spread fingers.
“Get your hands off my fiancée,” Nico snarls from the doorway.
I sag in relief, then remember his callous words and stiffen in anger over my instinctual trust in him. I jerk my arm out of my mother’s grasp. She screams as she spills the coffee on herself. I hiss as pain steaks up my arm.
Thick hands wrap around my shoulders and yank me away so fast I lose my footing. My back collides with Nico’s solid chest. An arm as hard as an iron bar closes around my front and pins me to him by my waist.
He weaves his fingers into mine and lifts my hand up to inspect it over my shoulder.
I stare in shock as my mother’s expression changes. I never in a million years thought I’d see the Vivaldi queen show fear, but she holds her scalded hand to her chest and stares at Nico with pure terror twisting her features.
I curl my fingers into Nico’s much larger digits and cling to his arm, silently begging him to hold me tighter as I lean into him.
I don’t know why I choose him over my mother. He could crush me so much more thoroughly and easily than my mother ever could, but with the visions of my sister’s abused body and mental anguish fresh in my mind, I want to get as far away from my mother as possible.
I want to take Camilla with me, though. She can’t stay here.
My father’s voice comes from the doorway, and I flinch before I can stop myself.
Nico pulls me tighter to him.
I love him as much as I hate him, and I need him as much as I despise him, and with his arms wrapped protectively around me, I put my life—and my sister’s life—in his hands.
His strong, capable, and ruthless hands.
