Page 309 of Rosetti Family New York
"Like I was beautiful?" I turn to face him, showing satisfaction instead of fear or disapproval. "How terrible."
"Like you were available," he corrects, coming closer until I can see myself in his eyes. "Like you were his to assess and dress."
"And that bothered you." Not a question. Just understanding from watching his control break.
"That bothered me." No shame, no apology. Just honest about instincts our growing closeness has intensified. "The thought of another man thinking he can touch you."
The heat in his voice makes warmth spread through me. "You enjoyed my recent... assertiveness."
"Very much." His hands gently frame my face, contrasting with his earlier violence. "But that doesn't mean I'll allow other men to look at you like I do."
The distinction matters more than it should. It's not just possessiveness, but a growing relationship.
Victoria enters, middle-aged and professional, making sure not to mention Marcus's dramatic exit. She navigates the consultation with smooth efficiency, showing pieces that transform me from a conflicted woman into someone who fits into Emilio's world.
It's the final selection that truly takes my breath away. A floor-length burgundy silk dress makes me look like a goddess of war, highlighting golden tones in my skin while the cut suggests both elegance and danger.
"This one," I whisper, looking at my reflection. "This is who I could be."
"This is who you are," Emilio corrects, standing behind me so we're both in the mirror. "You just needed the right setting to see it clearly."
His hands rest on my waist, and I lean back against his chest without thinking.
"The burgundy gown will be perfect for formal occasions," Victoria says with satisfaction. "Though I should mention, events in your social circle tend to require certain... considerations."
"Considerations?" I ask, though her tone suggests I already know.
"Security concerns. The kind that make beauty a form of armor rather than just an aesthetic choice." She adjusts the gown's lines expertly. "Mr. Rosetti has specified that all pieces allow for concealed protection while keeping elegant silhouettes."
The casual mention of hidden weapons gives me a thrill. This isn't just shopping, it's preparing for war.
"Then we'll take it all," Emilio decides, speaking with the easy authority of someone for whom money really can buy everything.
14
Mara
Day seven begins gray and quiet. I wake up in silk sheets, wearing only silk pajamas and my mother's necklace. The pendant catches the morning light as I stretch.
I find Emilio in the kitchen, coffee brewing, croissants warming. It feels more like safety than suffocation.
"Good news," he says, not looking up from his tablet, though I see his eyes follow me in the reflections of the appliances. "I've secured your exit plan."
The news makes me pause mid-step. "Secured how?"
"Finalized a new identity for you. Passport, driver's licence. Bought you a train ticket to Jersey and a connecting flight to London." He turns, his gray eyes showing satisfaction and relief. "You're safe."
Safe. The word means more than just protection. It means freedom.
"Which means?" I ask, already guessing where this is going.
"Which means you're free to leave." He says it carefully, but I notice the tension in his shoulders and how his hands pause on the marble countertop. "The locks are disengaged, the securitysystems set for departure, not containment. You can leave anytime you want."
This changes everything.
"Just like that?" I move closer, studying his face for any sign of a lie. "A week of captivity, and now you're giving me freedom because you've pulled up a new identity for me?"
"A week of sanctuary," he corrects gently. "Seven days of you learning what it feels like to be protected instead of hunted. Cherished instead of used."
