Chapter 2 Two

The rain was soft at first, like the sky couldn't decide if it wanted to cry. It tapped the roof of the car gently, the way a heart taps when it's uncertain.

Lucia sat frozen beside her new husband. She kept her spine straight, her knees tight together, her fingers curled on her lap so tightly her knuckles were white.

Vincenzo sat like a statue-shoulders broad, arm resting behind her on the seat, his legs spread slightly as if the world already belonged to him and she was just something he'd collected along the way.

He didn't look at her.

But she could feel his presence pressing against her skin. Could smell the sharpness of his cologne-clean, masculine, rich. He smelled like winter and iron and something dangerous.

Minutes passed.

She watched the city roll by through the tinted window. Lights blurred together with the soft fog on the glass. They were leaving everything behind-her street, her old life, her freedom.

"I expected you to cry," he said at last.

Lucia blinked, surprised by the sound of his voice. It was smooth. Cold. Calm.

"I don't waste tears on things I can't change."

He let out a faint chuckle, one that didn't reach his eyes. "Good answer."

"You thought I'd beg, didn't you?" she asked, finally turning her head to face him.

Vincenzo's eyes moved to her slowly. Dark. Studying.

"No," he said. "Begging is something the weak do. You're not weak. You're angry."

Lucia's jaw tensed. "You don't know me."

"I'm getting to know you," he said simply. "Every minute you sit in silence, I learn more."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "What have you learned so far?"

"That you hate me," he said without hesitation. "But not enough to leave your brother behind."

Her breath caught.

That was it, wasn't it? The reason she said "I do." Not for love. Not for family pride. But for blood. For Lorenzo.

"I didn't have a choice," she said.

"There's always a choice," he replied. "You just didn't like the price."

She looked away.

Outside, the Moretti estate began to rise in the distance-tall gates, stone walls, glowing windows in the dark. The sight made her stomach clench.

She didn't belong there.

And yet it would be her new home.

Forever.

The car slowed as it approached the front gate. Armed guards stepped aside after checking the plate. No words. Just a nod.

"This is the last time you'll see those gates from the outside," Vincenzo said, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

Lucia didn't answer.

The car rolled up the long drive, tires whispering against wet stone. The house loomed ahead. It was beautiful, in a way. Elegant. Cold. Like a museum built for kings and ghosts.

When the car stopped, the driver got out and opened her door. Lucia didn't move at first. Her hand reached for the doorframe to steady herself as she stepped out.

The rain had picked up slightly, misting her skin as she stood at the base of the grand steps.

Vincenzo joined her a moment later, his umbrella shielding them both. His arm brushed hers.

"Don't touch me," she snapped.

"I wasn't," he said.

"You're always touching me-even when you don't."

He looked down at her, one brow slightly raised. "You're not ready for what touching feels like yet."

The doors opened before she could answer.

Inside, the air was warm. Too warm. The chandelier glittered above them. Marble floors stretched ahead like polished ice. A woman in black stepped forward, gave a small bow.

"Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Moretti."

Lucia didn't respond.

The woman turned to her. "I'll take you to your room."

Lucia blinked. "My room?"

Vincenzo walked ahead without turning. "You'll have your own space. For now."

She watched his back disappear up the wide staircase.

She hated how solid he looked. How confident. As if he'd done this before. As if this was just a deal, and she was a name on paper.

The maid led her through a long hall to a room at the end. When the door opened, Lucia stepped inside and saw everything she didn't want.

It was beautiful.

Big windows. Cream walls. A bed that looked like it had never been slept in. Every part of it was perfect. Polished. Cold.

"This isn't a bedroom," she whispered to herself. "It's a cage with silk sheets."

The maid left without a word.

Lucia sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands rested in her lap again. The silence was louder than the storm outside.

She stared at her wedding ring.

The gold felt heavier now.

A knock at the door startled her. She stood quickly, unsure whether to answer.

The door opened anyway.

She expected a guard. Or maybe Vincenzo.

But it was-

"Lorenzo?" she breathed.

Her brother stepped in, his hair damp but neat, his clothes casual. Clean. There were no bruises. No wounds.

"Lucia-"

"What are you doing here?" she asked, backing up a step. "You-You were missing-he said-he said-"

"I'm fine," Lorenzo said quickly, closing the door behind him. "I'm okay. Please. Let me explain."

She was shaking now. "You were supposed to be in danger. You were the reason I- I gave everything up-"

"I didn't ask you to," he said, his voice tight.

She froze. "What?"

He stepped closer, holding his hands up. "I told them not to involve you. I made a deal with Vincenzo. I agreed to help him. I thought if I played along, I could protect you."

"Played along?" she choked. "You were fine the whole time? While I stood there saying vows to a man who threatened me-"

"I didn't know they'd force you to marry him. I thought I'd have more time."

Lucia turned away, eyes burning.

"You should have told me."

"I was trying to fix it without dragging you into it."

Her hands curled into fists. "Well, you failed."

The door creaked behind them.

Both turned.

Vincenzo stood there, leaning against the frame, arms crossed. Calm. Amused.

"That's enough, Lorenzo."

Lucia's eyes darted between them.

"You knew she'd come," Vincenzo said, eyes locked on her brother. "You knew she'd say yes if she thought you were in danger. You just didn't want to watch it happen."

Lorenzo's shoulders slumped.

"Close the door," Vincenzo said. "We wouldn't want your sister overhearing things she's not ready to hear... yet."

Lucia stepped forward. "Tell me what's going on."

Vincenzo met her eyes, the cold back in them now. "In time."

He nodded once to Lorenzo, who hesitated... then stepped out of the room.

Vincenzo stayed.

And smiled.