“This corset is so tight, I don’t even know how I’m breathing right now… I think…” Ginny’s words fade into the background. My eyes are focused on a man who has not been answering my calls or my texts.
Daniele throws his head back in laughter, and I freeze. He looks so… normal. My life for the past seventy-two hours has been completely upended and ruined, and he stands there like he is having the time of his life.
The annoyance pours into my system faster than I can gather my restraint. My legs are already moving long before my brain has a chance to analyze the situation. Ginny calls after me but I only have one thing on my mind.
Daniele Davacalli.
My strides are long and rushed, afraid that, like the day of my wedding, he will vanish before I can get to him. My blood sizzles with every inch I devour between us.
Be calm. My brain keeps repeating it like a mantra. I need to keep my cool—I am a Davacalli bride, and with that comes an image I must uphold.
When I’m just a few feet away, he looks up, and our eyes lock. The joy slips from his face.
“Daniele.” I come to a halt. “What the hell?”
I have a million and one questions I want to ask but that one slips forward first.
“Maria Faravelli—my mistake—Davacalli. I hear congratulations are in order, step-mommy.”
The crowd he is with snickers, and the blood rushes to my cheeks.
“We need to talk,” I press him. “Preferably somewhere private.”
“How about no?” He winks at me. “Go find your husband, I’m sure he is missing his shiny little trophy.”
I hate how he speaks to me.
“No.” I stand my ground. “We need to talk, you at least owe me that, since you ran from the altar like a coward.”
“I think it’s best that you leave, Maria,” he says in a bored tone. The woman who hangs off his arm smothers a laugh and my cheeks heat.
Enough of this.
I grab his wrist and the blonde gasps, but I ignore her. “Come.”
Surprisingly, the man allows me to pull him away from his group. The man must have a conscious, after all.
I drag him all the way out of the ballroom with every eye on us. I’m sure this little action of mine will cause a plethora of rumors, but to hell with them. I need closure, and he is the only one who can give me that.
We walk until we come to a secluded corner away from the eyes and ears of the masses. I let go of his wrist and turn to give him my full attention.
“What can I help you with?” He places his hands into his pockets nonchalantly, like he didn’t even do anything.
“You’re kidding, right?” I scoff.
He shrugs, his body language completely relaxed and unbothered.
“Do you have any idea what you did to me? One day everything is great and fine, and the next you leave me at the fucking altar, Daniele. You hurt me.” I stare into his eyes.
All my walls are down and I bare my feelings and vulnerability to him. But I don’t get the same back. The man is nothing more than a blank slate, emotionless.
“I don’t understand what you want here, Maria. An apology? You will never get one out of me. I did what was best for me and my future. The last thing I needed was to be tied to someone like you.” His words pierce me like a knife. “I chose me, and I would have thought you would have the balls to choose yourself. But I should have known you were weak and pathetic.”
“You have some nerve coming at me like that after everything you’ve done,” I grit out through my teeth “I didn’t want to marry you either, but at least I didn’t run with my tail tucked in between my legs like a coward.”
Daniele’s eyes flick to the necklace at my throat before locking on to mine, dark and vengeful in a way I’ve never seen before.
“You shouldn’t even be wearing that necklace. It was my mother’s and my grandmother’s. They were women of true power and formidability. You are nothing more than a meek little waste of space who would be dead within seconds in this world were it not for the Davacalli name.”
The words are a double-edged sword that pierce between my soul and flesh. But it’s not his words that get to me. It’s the hatred in his eyes. But now it also made sense as to why Matteo was being weird about the necklace.
It belonged to his mother first… and then Beatrice. His first wife. His love. The woman whose presence lingers in the walls of his house, whose ghost still curls up in his bed at night. The woman he still protects, even in death. A woman I can never compete with. My stomach twists. I shouldn’t care. But the sharp sting of bitterness digs its claws into me, unrelenting. Why does it bother me?
Right now, I should be bothered more by how we got to this point and why Daniele left me. Only a few short days ago, there had been light in those irises of his. The caramel brown in his eyes had been molten and warm. I don’t recognize the man who stands before me.
“Why are you being like this?”
He hooks his finger on the diamond-encrusted chain around my neck. “You should take this off. You aren’t even worthy to wear it around your neck.”
I grab his wrist and rip his hold from mine. “I am a Davacalli wife. This necklace belongs to me as much as it did your mother.” The words slip from my lips without intention. But it’s too late to take it all back.
His features contort into a scowl that makes him look all the more dangerous.
“Daniele, I—”
“You know that you will be nothing more than a whore to him, right?” He steps toward me, the distance between us virtually gone. “He will fuck you and put a baby in you to seal the deal. You are nothing more than an incubator and a means to an end.”
The truth of what he says lodges itself in my throat and refuses to come up.
“It’s a pity your family had to sell you like cattle all because your brother couldn’t dodge a bullet.”
I hear the slap before my palm feels the impact of connecting with his cheek. I stare at him stunned, my eyes moving between my hand and his face in pure and utter shock.
Daniele huffs, but there is no humor in his tone. He turns his head ever so slowly in my direction. I can practically see the steam coming out of his ears. The man’s face is bright red, and his body trembles with rage.
Shit.
“Daniele…” I look around but we are alone in this hallway. I should never have asked to talk with him here. “I think we both need to calm down.”
“So, you’re a tough girl. Funny, I didn’t peg you for much of a fighter.” He leers toward me, his chest rises and falls dramatically as he breathes in heavily. “Let’s see how much of a fight you put up.”
He goes to reach for me, but the roar of a loud voice breaks us apart. I snap my neck to the side and see Matteo storming down the hallway toward us. His face is cool but his steps are deliberate and strong.
He is a man on a mission.
“Oh goody, if it isn’t my daddy dearest come to the rescue of my step-mommy.” The ridicule in his tone is obvious.
“Enough of this, Daniele.” He comes to a halt and drags me behind him, a shield between father and son. “I taught you better than this. Your mother taught you better than to raise a hand to a woman.”
Daniele’s nostrils flare. “Don’t speak about my mother. You went and married her.”
“Only because you ran from your commitment, Daniele. Do you have any idea what you did that day?” Matteo is surprisingly soft with his son. He is never this… gentle when he speaks to other people. “You almost screwed everything up.”
Daniele steps toward his father, and they are now toe to toe. The tension in the air is thick and laden with electrical charge. It feels like one wrong move could set this entire thing on fire.
“I didn’t want to clean up the mess that you made, Papá.” There is an edge to his voice. “I think things worked out exactly how they were supposed to, don’t you think?”
The silence that follows is deafening. The two Davacalli men stand in front of each other. The king and his heir in a faceoff. And all I can do is stand off to the side, praying that this does not come to blows.
Matteo huffs. “Learn your place, Daniele. Or I will teach it to you—I am still your father.”
Daniele clicks his tongue. “How could I forget, Daddy Dearest? Forgive me.”
He steps away from his father and then whips his gaze to meet mine. “Careful, Maria. You’re in bed with the devil.”
“Daniele.” Matteo hisses but it’s too late. His son turns on his heel and makes his way toward the ballroom, leaving me with his father.
The air is laden with tension and anxiety. I have no idea what I just witnessed, but the Daniele who stood in front of me is not the same boy I grew up with back in New York. He isn’t the same man who sat with me for hours on the edge of the pool and talked.
I clear my throat. “I think we should head back. People will be missing us.”
I start to walk in the direction of the ballroom but Matteo’s hand whips out and stops me dead in my tracks. I look over my shoulder at him, confused.
“What?” I pull my hand out of his hold and, surprisingly, he allows me to. “I am getting very tired of men just grabbing me when they feel like it.”
“That necklace—who allowed you to wear that?” The force in his voice throws me. He stares at the necklace like he has seen a ghost. “Who?”
I flinch at the anger in his tone. “Emily. She–she said that it belongs to every Davacalli bride. It’s an heirloom.”
“It was my mother’s,” he quipped. “You have no right to be wearing it.”
It was his previous wife’s necklace.
“That necklace holds a lot of sentimental meaning. You can’t wear it.”
His comment ignites something inside of me. I raise my left hand and thrust it in his face showing off the ring that he put on my finger. “I am sorry about your wife, Matteo. But you can’t treat me like I am beneath you. I don’t know if you get this but we are married. Married. I am sick and tired of both you and your son discounting what I am and who I am in all of this. I signed that marriage certificate just like you did. We both said yes to this. And I am your wife; as much as it might pain you to see me with this on, it deserves to be on my neck.”
He is silent. He doesn’t answer me back; he simply watches me, taking in my little outburst.
“I need some air.” I walk away from him, leaving him standing in the hallway alone. There is a part of me that wants him to chase after me. A part of me wants him to stop me and apologize for what he said and what Daniele said. But it never happens.
I quicken my pace, nearly breaking into a run as I round the corner. I can feel the emotion raging through my veins and I need to feel the air on my face. I run down the hallway and make my way to the balcony door. When I breathe through into the cool air, I let go of the breath I have been holding.
Fuck him. The tears prick my eyes. I try to hold them back but they betray me and tumble one after the other from my eyes.
A low broken sob escapes my lips and my heart cracks only by a few inches, but it is enough to have me latching on to the stone ledge and gasping for air. I don’t want to cry; men like Daniele do not deserve my tears, but his words play over and over again in my mind.
I blink to the night sky, searching for some kind of sign, an answer of sorts. I am surrounded by luxury, power, and wealth, yet I feel like a captured bird, unable to fly. What is it to gain the world but to lose your freedom?
“A pretty woman should never have tears in her eyes.”
I jump at the voice that comes from the shadows on the other side of the balcony. I swipe at my tears, looking for the speaker.
“Who’s there?” I tried to make my voice sound decisive and firm but it came out meekly.
A man dressed in an all-black suit and a scar that travels down the side of his jaw walks into the light. The smile that splits his lips can only be described as eerie. There is a dead look in his eyes, like there is no soul behind the glass.
“Forgive me.” He steps toward me, and I take a step back on instinct, feeling the growing threat.
Shit. That is a mistake. The smile on his lips deepens. I have no idea who this man is, but I know his kind well. They feed off fear. They indulge in making people feel uncomfortable, and often seek out the weak in order to exploit them.
“No need to be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you, little dove.” He steps closer, but this time I hold my nerve. “Good, was that so hard?”
“Who are you?” I jut my chin up to feign confidence. “It’s creepy that you were just waiting in the shadows.”
I observe him for a moment and take him in. Raven black hair and icy blue eyes that penetrate right through your flesh. He carries an air about him that unsettles me.
“I was here first,” he shoots back. “If anything, you disturbed my private moment with your tears.”
“I was not crying.” I look away from his gaze. “I just needed a breather.”
“No need to defend yourself from me, Maria. We all need our moments.”
My head whips to him so fast, I fear I may get whiplash. “How do you know my name?”
The smile returns to his face. “I make it my business to know all the important people. And you, my dear, happen to be the most important piece in the board.”
A shiver runs down my spine but I try to not to let it show.
“You are far better-looking than the last, I must say.” His eyes move over my face, drinking in every single feature on display. “I guess he got lucky by grabbing a young one. Oh, forgive me, where are my manners?”
Without warning, the guy grabs my wrist and pulls me toward him. He lowers his head and presses a kiss on my skin, and I recoil.
“My name is Giacomo Feriama. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He lifts his gaze from the back of my hand and looks up at me. “You are far more beautiful in person, I must say.”
I try to pull my wrist from his hold but his grip just tightens. He straightens to his full height and pulls me toward him.
“Don’t be rude, little dove. Why don’t you accept my advances?”
“Let go of me,” I hiss through my teeth. “You are making a huge mistake. My husband—”
“Matteo Davacalli.” He smiles but this one has far more malice behind it. “I know him well. In fact, we happened to fuck the same girl once upon a time. Maybe we could do that again?”
Giacomo leans into me. I try to shy away from his face but the wall behind me provides no room to maneuver. I pull at the arm locked tightly in his grip and inch away from him, but no matter how hard I try, he won’t budge.
“I see why he is taken by you, such a beauty you are.” His tongue darts out of his mouth and kisses his bottom lip. “If only I can have a little taste. To sample what belongs to the great Matteo Davacalli. After all, he sampled mine…”
“Let go of me!” I squirm on his hold. I can feel his hot breath fan my face, and every cell in my body is repulsed by his closeness. “I will scream.”
“No one will hear—”
Before my scream can ripple through the air, Giacomo’s grip falls away, and I fall backward. But before I hit the ground, an arm wraps itself around my waist and pulls me into a hard body.
I gasp and my eyes blink up to Matteo. His eyes move over my face in a panic, as if he is searching for injuries. When he is satisfied, he steadies me, and then he turns to Giacomo, who laughs from the ground.
“I was wondering why you left your bride unattended. Not a very smart thing to do, all things considered.” He spits blood and ambles to his feet.
I can’t see my husband’s face, but from the tension locked in his shoulders, I can tell that he is murderous. He wants blood.
I should be scared. I should be on edge. But instead, heat pools low in my stomach, slow and dangerous. A spark, a flicker, a wildfire waiting for ignition. Matteo’s body hums with raw power, his breath still ragged from the fight. His grip on my wrist is firm—possessive. A silent declaration. My pulse jumps at the way his fingers flex, like he’s restraining himself. Like he wants to do more. He’s still furious. Still on edge. And somehow, despite everything… I want him to be.
“You touch my wife again and I will end you, Feriama.” The venom in his voice is so potent that I even feel it sear my tongue. “You have no business with her.”
“Oh, Matteo, after all these years, you are still the ray of sunshine you have always been.” He smiles, showing his bloodstained teeth. “Tell me, how well does she ride your cock?”
Matteo snaps at his words. He lunges for Giacomo and grabs him by the collar before dragging him to the ledge. I let out a shocked scream as I witness the Matteo of rumors come to life.
The wind howls through the night, electricity crackling in the air as tension coils tighter with each passing second.
“Careful, Matteo,” Giacomo chokes as the grip on Matteo’s hands tightens. “You don’t want to scare away your new wife, do you?”
Matteo’s head snaps toward me. The rage blazing in his eyes roots me to the spot. He is not human in that moment. I see something far more ferocious and feral. But then he blinks, the humanity returning to his body, and then he looks at me, torn.
“But then again, she needs to see the real you,” Giacomo hisses. “The true you. The uncaged, unhinged version of yourself that you are at your core.”
Matteo whips his head back to Giacomo. He leans down and whispers something in his ear that I don’t catch. He then releases him and takes a few steps back, but his eyes are still trained on Giacomo.
“You got lucky this time, asshole. But make no mistake, come near her again and that’s a bullet to your chest. Maria, come.” He holds out his hand to me, keeping his gaze trained on his enemy. I take it without hesitation. “I’m watching you, Feriama.”
Matteo turns, leading me away. His grip is firm, unyielding. Possessive. A silent warning that I belong to him.
I shouldn’t, but I steal one last glance over my shoulder—straight into Giacomo’s eyes.
His smirk deepens, slow and deliberate, like he knows something I don’t.
“Until next time, beautiful Maria.” He blows me a kiss, and a shiver rolls down my spine. I rip my eyes away from him.
Why does it feel like this is only just the beginning? Like a game has started, and I don’t know the rules…
