Chapter 7

ARIA

I make my way across the stone pavement and down the wide steps leading into the garden of roses.

Up close, the scenic view is even more striking.

I wander around looking at it all until I must be on the other side of the house.

I stop by a hedge near a little pond and take in the elegant white swans swimming around.

Even with the prevalent danger lingering in the air, everything is so beautiful. The tension is a juxtaposition to the serenity the place should have.

I’m about to lean in and smell a rose when the presence of someone behind me makes me jump. The fright makes me catch my finger on one of the thorns on the bush.

I pay no attention to the blood trickling from my fingertip, however. Instead, I give my undivided attention to the foreboding man standing paces away from me.

It’s the man who’s turned my world into some kind of surrealist piece of abstract art where nothing makes sense.

Later is now. It arrived sooner than I thought.

“Enjoying the view?” he asks in that cool tone he uses.

I noticed earlier it matches his expression perfectly. Anyone could tell straight away he’s a man who doesn’t give a fuck about who he hurts.

“I’m amazed someone like you lives here.”

“Scum?” He quirks a brow.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t need to. I’m not scum. He thinks I am, though, because my family had to work hard to get what they had. This was their home.”

Was.

Was as in past tense. I wonder what that means.

“Where are they now?”

“Dead.”

I shouldn’t feel sorry for him, but from the loss of my mother, uncontrollable compassion fills me.

“I’m sorry.” My words sound out of place, like they don’t fit in with us or who we are.

“Don’t be. It was nothing to do with you.”

We stare at each other for what feels like forever, and my nerves spike with every second that passes.

The way he looks at me makes me uncomfortable. It’s with an air of fascination that makes me wonder if it was he I lost my virginity to.

Annoyingly, the thought sends a shiver of arousal through me, and the weight pulls on my core. It’s that desire again from last night—that heated desire which is unmistakable and undeniable.

What’s worse is I can see from the darkening of his irises that he feels it too.

There’s an attraction between us I don’t want to accept, especially after last night. And this morning.

Yet, as I stare at him, I can’t help but wonder how we would have met if my father didn’t know I knew him.

How close were we?

I have so many questions, ones I feel he won’t answer, and it feels like he’s waiting for me to talk first.

When his gaze drops to my breasts, I realize my dress is damp from the rain and clinging to my body, showing more than I want him to see.

My nipples harden to razor-sharp peaks under the weight of his stare. I have to bring my hands up to my chest to try and hide myself.

“Go on, Printsessa,” he urges with a cocky smile that should be as illegal as he is. “Ask me. I don’t want my bride’s head to explode with all those questions she has swirling around in there.”

Him calling me his bride makes me cringe.

“Why do you want to marry me? What sort of business benefit is there in marrying me?”

“Business benefit?” He inclines his head, and his hair drifts over his shoulder. The fading sunlight captures the lighter hints of brown in the dark mass of wild hair.

“You don’t love me, so don’t play with me. Tell me the truth. You’re marrying a woman who has no memories beyond the last two and a half years. I think I deserve some explanation.”

He looks like he’s considering it. When he sets his shoulders back, my hopes rise.

“You fit in with my plans,” he answers.

“What plans?”

“Those don’t concern you.”

“How don’t they concern me? You have access to my whole life. This is wrong. You know it is.”

“Right and wrong are shades of gray that people manipulate to take whatever form they want. This is mine.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to marry you.”

“You don’t have a choice, and if I were you, I wouldn’t create problems. Your father wasn’t joking when he told you to do as you’re told. You need to. If you don’t create problems, you won’t have a problem with me.”

“But I am the problem. I want to know why you want to marry me. I’m not valuable.”

He smiles again, and my heart flutters. “Oh, but you are, Aria.”

“In what ways.”

He pauses for a beat and holds my gaze. “As the owner of Cervantes, you are very valuable to me.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What do you mean? I don’t own it.” That’s impossible. That’s Dad’s company, and he’s never said anything in regard to me owning it.

“In two months, you will, and that’s what I want.”

“I… I don’t understand. I own Cervantes?”

“Your mother gave it to you before she died. I’m guessing your father never told you that.”

I shake my head, and he steps closer— too close. He circles me, then stops behind me and leans down to my ear.

“I’m sure we can both agree that your father might not be everything he appears to be.”

I bite my tongue because it’s true. He’s right, and I don’t want him to be.

He touches my cheek, and my body instantly betrays me.

The memory of his face comes into my mind, along with a kiss—the one from last night and another from before. That was the one I dreamt about.

“Where do I know you from?”

“I told you, you shouldn’t try and remember me.”

“Why? You’re the only thing I remember,” I confess, and as the words leave my lips, I regret it. I don’t think I should have told him that.

“Is that so? How unfortunate for you.” He backs away.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I guess I must have lied.” Fear seizes in my chest, snuffing out the arousal I felt moments ago. It amplifies as he runs his finger along my jaw, slow and menacing. “You don’t want a problem with me, Aria De Marchi. As you can see, you’re allowed to walk around the grounds freely. Fuck with me, and I’ll lock you away. Don’t do anything stupid like thinking you might be able to run away or that ‘daddy dearest’ can fix this. He can’t. If you run, I’ll find you, and if you love your father and don’t want him dead, you really will do as you’re told. I’ll see you later.”

Later, again.

With that threat, he walks away and leaves me for the second time today.

This time, I’m more shattered, more confused, more helpless.

And I have even more questions than before.

***

LUCCA

The wind picks up my hair, and the slight moisture in the air suggests it might rain again, although it poured not even an hour ago.

I left the princess to her thoughts and decided to make sure ‘daddy dearest’ hadn’t decided to start gathering forces to try and fix this little problem of his.

So far, I’m satisfied with what I see. It looks like Raphael is doing everything I told him to do.

I’m stationed on the rooftop of the Fine Arts building on West 7th Street.

A hundred feet below me, the man getting into Judge Baxter’s Ferrari parked in the alleyway of the community college is what you call desperate.

Raphael slips into the passenger seat, looking like he’s gained a hundred years on his fifty-eight. He already looked haggard this morning, so I’m not surprised Hell had stolen more years from him before the sun went down.

The motherfucker is so unaware he’s being watched that he doesn’t bother to roll the window up. Or maybe he does know and no longer cares.

Either works well for me because now I get to witness his defeat as he speaks to his crooked judge friend, who is another one of his lackeys.

I look through my binoculars and zoom in closer so I can see him better.

I want to remember this moment of triumph when I win, and he loses miserably like the fucking dog he is.

I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I can imagine it because he looks pissed as fuck. Judge Baxter is the judge who initiated Raphael’s legal guardianship over Aria.

He’s also the person Raphael went to to try and revoke his late wife’s decision to give her daughter the company.

Idiot. He didn’t realize that not even Judge Baxter could help him with that.

There are just some things in the law even criminals have to adhere to. It’s usually in situations like these when you’re fucked.

And fucked he is. I smile as I watch him throw a fist into the dashboard then hold his head down while his friend rests a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

I don’t bother to wonder if the judge knows what kind of man his friend is. I’m sure he does. I’m sure Judge Baxter has his fair share of dirty secrets and has done the same type of shit as Raphael.

“Hey, Lucca,” Jon says, coming up behind me.

I lower my binoculars to give him my attention. “Hey.”

“Damien just checked in. Raphael has signed the contracts and faxed them over. This looks like the last part.” Jon motions with his chin toward our dear friend Raphael.

Yes, this is the last part—ownership of Aria.

I’m a bastard for being this excited over owning a person. Maybe it’s more the pleasure I’m taking in owning the one thing Raphael told me I couldn’t have.