Dario had placed me in the guest room directly across his own. One that felt as if it had once belonged to a woman. Perhaps his mother. The softness in its details was unmistakable, carefully preserved, like it belonged in a different time.
Floral carvings traced the edges of the dresser. A vanity stood by the corner leading to the bathroom, elegant and old-fashioned. A deep red carpet, embroidered with fading flowers, lay over polished wooden floors. The windows overlooked Central Park, the sill dusted with grey winter light and silence.
It was beautiful in a way that hurt.
In another world, I would have loved it here. In a world where I had never known Alexandre. Never learned what it meant to belong to someone so completely. Never understood the quiet devastation of loving him, then losing him altogether.
I crossed the room and sank onto the canopy bed, the mattress sinking beneath me. It was too large, too pristine, empty. Still, I turned onto my side and closed my eyes anyway, forcing myself to breathe through the hollowness in my chest.
Exhaustion crept in slowly anyway. Merciful and heavy, dulling the dges of everything I did not yet have the strength to face.
A song drifted softly from the car radio. A man going on and on about a love so vast, he could not imagine a world without it. I closed my eyes, leaning my head against the seat and letting the melody wash over me.
"God only knows what I'd be without you..."
Alex sang along under his breath, hopelessly off-key.
I laughed, the sound surprising even me, light and unguarded. When I opened my eyes, and turned toward him, he was already looking at me. One hand loose on the steering wheel, the other tapping along to the rhythm.
The windows were down, sunlight spilling into the car. Wind tangled through our hair, warm and careless, carrying the scent of summer with it.
"So what good would living do me, God only knows what I'd be without you..." he sang again, louder this time like he was teasing me, grinning.
My lips curved despite myself. I shook my head, even as my chest tightened in that quiet, familiar way. How devastatingly handsome he looked, bathed in the light.
"You're insane," I said softly through the music.
He only glanced at me, eyes warm, filled with something that felt dangerously close to forever.
"Only for you."
A few hours later, there was a knock at my door, soft and precise. Time for dinner.
So I took one last look at my reflection. The black dress clinging to me in clean, elegant lines, my reddish hair falling loose down my back. My makeup was minimal, giving off that natural look before I walked out of the room.
I had expected James, the butler, to be waiting outside the door. Instead, it was Dario.
He stood there already offering his arm, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. His dark hair neatly styled, olive skin catching the low lighting of the hallway. He was the kind of man women noticed without trying. The kind they whispered about. The kind they chose.
And yet, I felt nothing.
I placed my hand on his arm anyway.
"I thought we might go out for dinner," he said smoothly, as he led me through the dim hallway.
Somewhere deep inside me, there was still an echo of another voice that lingered.
Only for you.
I held onto that when I gave him a small nod, measured and polite, letting my lips curve into something sharper. "What else, dearest?" I said lightly, the words sweetened enough to sting.
Dario's jaw tightened for a fraction of a second before he masked it, guiding me down the hallway anyway. His hand was firm at my elbow, like he was steering rather than supporting. It wasn't until he was at the end of the corridor, did he paused, glancing toward James, his butler.
"Prepare the car," Dario said. "Five minutes."
"Yes, sir," James replied, already moving.
The private elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime, swallowing us whole. He wouldn't look at me, nor acknowledge me when he stepped in, even after the doors closed, sealing us inside a polished box of mirrored walls and soft light.
He kept his eyes straight ahead, his shoulders square, posture immaculate.
It wasn't until the elevator began making its descent, that he spoke.
"I don't like that tone," Dario said calmly. Too calmly. "I'm not sure where you picked it up." His eyes met mine in the mirror at last, cool and appraising. "I'll allow it for now, since you've just woken up from a head injury. Consider this my leniency, but it won't stay."
I held his gaze, refusing to look away. "Need I remind you," I said evenly, "that you agreed to marry me for my power? Not the other way around."
His lips curved. Not in amusement, but something darker. A low chuckle slipping out of him, the sound crawling down my spine.
"Didn't your precious Nonno tell you?"
The elevator seemed to narrow. Even the air was thinning as if it had tried to listen. My pulse thudded, like a warning that something terrible was about to happen, just as the doors slid open.
Lights exploded in. There were flashes of cameras, voices calling out our names. Photographers crowding the curb like vultures, lenses trained on us.
Dario's hand closed in around my arm as he guided me out of the elevators, looking all seamless and composed. The perfect image of a devoted fiancé. Then he leaned in, his breath warm against my ear, his voice meant for me alone.
"I'm the one who's going to inherit everything," he murmured. "Not you."
That's ridiculous, I wanted to say.
But I didn't.
I simply remained silent and played my part. Even as his grip tightened, possessive and deliberate, like a reminder for me to behave. Even as something inside me splintered under the weight of my heartbreak and fear, sharp enough to steal my breath.
I straightened anyway, and lifted my chin. I raised my hand and smiled for the cameras that were waiting beyond the glass, before placing my hand back on his arm, steady and composed. As if he hadn't just said something that tilted my world off its axis.
Well then, two can play at this game.