Page 63 of Twisted Devotion

I exhale slowly.

The right move would be to stop her. To remind her that she belongs tomenow—not Marco. That no matter how much she wants to trust him, sheshouldn’t.

But Aria is stubborn. She won’t listen. Not yet.

I quickly type back:

Your job is to make sure she’s safe. Keep her out of danger.

17

ARIA

After spending too much time lost in memories, questioning how to survive my present, I finally realized the answer was simple.

The first thing I need to do is free myself from this marriage.

Fine—I’ll admit it hasn’t been the nightmare I expected. But itstillcomes with too much uncertainty. And if there’s one thing I’ve never liked, it’s uncertainty.

Right now, the only solid ground I have is with the man I share blood with.

Marco may not love me the way I once loved him, but I am his sister whether he likes it or not. ARossi. And to some extent, that still means something to him.

For now, he’s my best option.

I glance at the driver, noticing how his eyes flick at me a little too often in the rearview mirror. I’m still not sure if he was hired byMarcoorNicolas.

“Drop me off at Rossi’s Enterprises,” I say, keeping my voice even. “Come back in an hour to pick me up.”

The driver nods without a word and makes a sharp U-turn, merging onto the highway. Within minutes, we pull up in front of Marco’s office building—a sleek glass tower reflecting the night sky, as cold and imposing as ever.

I step out, adjusting my coat as I watch the car speed off. The air is thick with the scent of impending rain. I glance up at the heavy clouds, remembering how I used to love dancing in the rain with my father. He’d scoop me up effortlessly, spinning me around while the bodyguards hovered nearby under their umbrellas, scowling as we drenched them.

Then I grew up. I decided I wastoo oldto dance in the rain with my dad. I was tired of the lies, the secret meetings, and the illusion of control. I wanted to take charge of my life.

I scoff at the irony.So much for that.

A dull ache pulses in my chest, but I push it down. This isn’t the time for grief. I have more pressing matters to deal with.

Inside, the lobby is so quiet that the faint tap of my heels echoes against the marble floor. The secretary’s desk is just ahead, a neatly arranged space cluttered with stacks of papers and an untouched cup of coffee.

She looks up as I approach, her face lighting up. “Aria! It’s good to see you.”

I lean against the desk, offering a small smile. “Hey, Clara.”

Her smile softens. “Mr. Marco said he was expecting you today.”

I frown slightly. Marco had asked to see me after the meeting, but Nicolas told him I’d reach out whenIdecided it was convenient. Did he just assume I’d come anyway? Am I that predictable?

Clara, oblivious to my discomfort, smiles warmly. She leans in slightly, lowering her voice as she glances toward Marco’s office door.

“That pie you brought that other day? A-maaaazing.”

I blink, tilting my head. “The one in the breakfast basket? Marcosharedthat with you?”

She waves a dismissive hand though her cheeks flush. “Sharingis a strong word. There were some leftovers, and he said I could have them.”

I try to smile, but it feels forced, tight. I’m not sure what to make of this.

---