His hands were still holding me to the wall, one hand on each side of my head. Anger was coursing through me like wildfire. I had no idea where to put any of it. Was this his revenge for Santo? Reducing me to nothing. Making sure that the name of Vitale meant nothing compared to his?
Whatever it was that I had left of him—love, hatred—it didn't matter anymore. Right now, it was hatred. Pure and simple hatred. I pushed against his chest as hard as I could. He didn't fight me. He didn't move. His eyes locked on mine.
I shoved hard against his chest. He didn't fight back, but he didn't move either. His eyes stayed locked on me, burning.
"You're crazy, Luca. This is what you've become? A girl comes to you for help and the cost of that help is to make her your slave? I'm ashamed of what you've become."
Luca's eyes instantly turned black. All of the strength I had inside of me disappeared under the look. Before I could even blink, he had me back against the wall again, no way to escape, just him, surrounding me.
"What I've become?" he said, his voice dripping with menace. "The nerve you have to come to me and talk to me like that, Serena. Your family has made me what I've become. Your family killed my brother. Your family forced me into a position that I never would have taken. This was the Luca who ran mafia operations now—cold, merciless, terrifying.
"What did you think? You'd walk into my territory, ask for help, and I'd drop everything to save you? I'm not that boy anymore. The one who'd burn worlds for you just because you asked. Now I burn worlds and I don't care if you're standing in the flames."
I felt tears prick at my eyes. I hated myself for it. I didn't know if it was his words that sliced me open or the grip he had on my wrist, but my whole body was trembling, falling apart. "I don't care what you think of me, Luca. I will not be your owned property. Let go of my hand. You're hurting me."
My voice shook, but I still tried to make it sound like I had control. Just because my family was hurting didn't mean I had to throw my dignity away for anyone. "I don't think you heard me correctly, principessa."
"I heard you perfectly," I snapped, trying to lift my chin up even as my pulse was hammering. "And it's no. I came for protection, not to be your on-call fuck toy."
He laughs—low, dark, right in my face. "Fuck toy?" He says it like i meant it to be funny. "I said mine. body and soul. In name. Every breath you take in my house is mine. You sleep in my bed. You talk when I say so. You spread those pretty legs when I want. "That's the deal. It's simple, Serena."
My gut twisted in a mixture of rage and another, more treacherous emotion. I shoved at his chest again. It was like pushing stone. He didn't move at all.
"I'm the heir to the Vitale family," I growled. "Not some plaything you get to control just because you think you're holding all the cards."
"You are the heir to a dying empire," he corrected, voice dropping to that velvet-rough tone i used to melt for at a ceertain time. "Do I need to remind you your father is one shallow breath from a body bag? That your uncle Matteo is already sharpening the knife for your back? Every other famiglia in this city is measuring your territory like it's already theirs." His free hand lifted, fingers brushing my jaw with fake gentleness. "From where I'm standing, Serena, you don't have shit for options except me."
I swatted at his hand. "Don't fucking touch me."
He caught my wrist as it rose, pinned it above my head with the speed of a strike. It left me gasping. His body pinned mine, unyielding.
"You think this is a negotiation?" he said, his mouth against my ear, the heat of his breath burning.
"Cute. But let me make it simple for you, dearest Serena Vitale. Say yes, and I put every gun, every soldier, every dirty secret I own behind keeping your father breathing and your little throne from crumbling. Say no…" He let the silence stretch, cruel and deliberate. "And I walk away. Right now. I let Matteo finish what someone has already started. I let the streets run red with Vitale blood. And when they drag your father's corpse out in a bag, I'll make sure the last thing he hears is that his precious princess chose her bruised ego over survival."
My eyes burned. I hated him. I hated how precisely he knew where to cut.
Tears stung the corners of my vision. It wasn't from fear but from pure stubborn rage. I refused to let them fall. I couldn't let him see me break.
"I hate you," I breathed.
"Good." His lips grazed my temple, soft as a death threat. "Hate me all you want, carina. Just do it under my roof. In my bed. Where I can keep you alive long enough to ruin you the way you deserve."
He leaned back just enough to look at my face. His eyes were dark, hungry, almost desperate—like I was the only thing anchoring him right now. I could feel him against me, hard and insistent, shameless.
"Say it," he ordered. "Say you'll be mine. I want to hear the words come from you."
I pulled free of him with a burst of strength I hadn't known I had inside me. I stumbled back a few feet, turning my back on him.
"I'll let you know what I decide, Ferrante."
But let this be clear, if I do decide… The words were stuck in my throat. "If I do this… it will be on my terms."
I turned to look at him, to make sure he got the point. "Do you understand?"
A look of satisfaction spread over Ferrante's face. He knew he had already won the war and was just running the victory lap.
"Take all the time you need, principessa. But you should know that I'm not a patient man. Especially when it comes to what's mine."
I was already walking to the door.
"And carina…" He paused, a look of satisfaction spreading over his face. "The music playing earlier… it wasn't Debussy."
He turned and walked away without another word.
Asshole.
Rocco drove me back in silence. By the time the estate gates loomed ahead, exhaustion had settled into my bones like wet concrete. The security men held rifles and kept nodding as we passed.
I could feel their eyes scanning me for cracks. I kept my chin high. Heir. Princess. Whatever they still needed me to pretend to be.
Sal was waiting in the main hall, leaning against a pillar with a deceptively relaxed posture. He straightened the moment our eyes met.
"Nalise, you're back."
"Not here."
He fell into step beside me. Rocco trailed three paces behind like always. We didn't speak until my suite door clicked shut.
I leaned against it with my eyes closed. "Tell me."
Sal didn't waste time. "Your father's stable but still unconscious. Doctors say another twenty-four hours before they'll know if he wakes up fighting or not. Uncle Matteo's already pulling capos into side rooms. He's been talking about 'temporary measures.' I am not sure what exactly he means and what he has install but half the table is already nodding in acceptance and the other half? well, they have their eyes on you."
I opened my eyes. "And what about the attack?"
"There has been no clear prints yet but we know the shooter used a suppressed .22. Very professional and at aclose range. We believe it was staged to look like it came from the inside, the Camera feeds were also looped for eleven minutes. Someone inside helped. I've got three names I'm running down."
I nodded, mind already spinning. "Keep digging, Sal. Quietly. No one should find out about your involvement or mine in this. We need them to still believe I'm clueless and harmless. I need you to put eyes on every family that's been sniffing around our territory the last month."
Sal studied me like he could read the fresh bruises Luca had left on my pride. "You went to Ferrante, didn't you?"
It didn't feel like a question. It felt like an already ascertained statement.
"I did."
He waited.
I exhaled. "I bought time. That's all you need to know right now."
"Nalise—"
"That's all."
He raised both hands in surrender, but his eyes stayed razor-sharp. "Just tell me you didn't sign anything in blood."
"It's a bit too late for that." I almost lsughed.
His mouth tightened. He knew better than to push. "First files on your desk by sunrise. And whatever this price is… you don't have to pay it alone."
But I did. This was my empire. My father. My mess.