Page 15 of Rosetti Family New York
“For the family,” he corrects. “If you forget that, you’re of no use to anyone.” He doesn’t wait for my reply, just nods like he’s signing off on a deal and walks out with Juliet in tow.
I am alone in the Rosetti’s world.
Leonardo waits by the door, his presence as commanding as ever. He’s already holding my coat, a small gesture that feels like an extension of his control. I walk toward him, feeling my legs move but not sure how. The rest of the family gathers around us, warm and loud and overwhelming.
We step outside. The air is bitter against my bare skin. Leonardo guides me to a car—our car now. He holds the door open, watching me with those eyes that see right through everything.
I sit, the leather cold beneath me, and wait to see what I’ve done.
I look at Leonardo, at the hard line of his jaw. His expression doesn’t change. Eyes on the road, thoughts locked away where I can’t reach them. I wonder if he’s regretting this already. Regretting me.
My father’s warning circles.Remember why you did this.I slip the new gold ring off my finger and hold it tight in my palm. If I keep it there, I can pretend I’m still free. But who am I fooling? Not Leonardo. He knows I’m trapped. He helped trap me.
The engine hums beneath us, but inside the car it’s silent. I turn to the window. Glassy buildings reach for the clouds. The city should feel like home. I’ve spent my life learning its streets, its language. But today it’s just another stranger.
When I look back at Leonardo, he’s watching me. A quick glance, curious and intense. I slip the ring back onto my finger and brace myself for whatever’s coming.
The car turns, and the house looms ahead. The Rosetti siblings' mansion. It rises like a monster of steel and glass. It has the same soulless look as my father’s house, only bigger. Colder. I didn’t think anything could be.
Tall fences wrap around it. Security cameras glint in the gray light. A guard house sits by the entrance. More men, all in black. They watch us with steady eyes. I shiver and pull my coat tight around me.
We stop at the gate. One of the guards speaks into a radio, his voice crackling over the air. The gates swing open, heavy and slow. Leonardo drives through like he’s done it a thousand times.
We roll to a stop in front of the house. It’s modern and impersonal, all angles and empty surfaces. Even the windows look guarded, long and narrow like gun slits. I stare up at it, a knot tightening in my stomach. This is where I live now.
Leonardo gets out and comes around to my side. He opens my door and waits for me to move. My legs are made of iron, but I manage to swing them out, one after the other.
“You good?” he asks. The words are rough but not unkind.
“I’m fine.” My voice is thinner than I want it to be. I stand, stiff and unsteady. He watches me, making sure I don’t break before we even make it inside.
He holds out a hand, but I ignore it. Instead, I clutch my coat tighter, my breath forming small, white clouds in the cold air. It is unseasonably cool for April. He shrugs, amused, and leads the way. His strides are long and confident.
I trail behind. The weight of the house, of him, of everything, presses down on me. I follow him inside. The front hall stretches out before me. Cold marble under my feet. Everything echoes. Each breath, each footstep.
This is where I live now.
Leonardo’s already at the center of the room, coat off, looking back at me. He seems to fill the space, where I only feel lost in it.
“You coming?” he says, a slight edge to his voice.
I nod, quickening my pace. The faster I move, the sooner I’ll get used to this. I hope.
He shows me the rest of the house. Room after room, cavernous and spare. Living room. Dining room. Library. Each one as cold and lifeless as the last. It’s beautiful in an expensive, impersonal way. Art on the walls, all abstract and soulless. Like me, a last-minute addition to their collection.
I try to memorize the layout. All I manage is a vague sense of distance. This place is so big, so isolating. More like a gallery than a home.
“Never seen a place this nice?” Leonardo’s voice jolts me. I realize I’ve fallen behind. I catch up, my steps loud on the polished floor.
“Nice?” I echo, but it comes out more bitter than I mean it to.
He shrugs. “We can put in flowers or some shit, if that’s what you like.”
“It’s fine.” I don’t know what I like. Not really.
We stop in a long hallway. I see more doors than I can count. Endless rooms for one person to get lost in.
“This one’s Carmela's room,” Leonardo says. He gestures to the first door. He moves on to the next. “Office.” Another. “Spare.” He doesn’t stop, naming each door in quick succession, not letting me fall behind.
