Blood and Roses

The first rule in my father's house was simple. Never make Vincent Callahan wait. The second rule was even simpler. Never ask why. I had broken neither rule in twenty years. Tonight, however, I was standing outside his study with my hand hovering over the doorknob, and for the first time in my life, I wanted to break both. "Miss Vivian?" I glanced over my shoulder. Mrs. Ellis stood several feet away, her hands folded neatly in front of her. "Your father asked for you." "I know." She gave me a sympathetic look before quickly looking away. That told me everything I needed to know. Something was wrong. People in my father's house had mastered the art of pretending nothing was wrong. Guards could hear gunshots and continue eating dinner. Servants could walk past men with blood on their shirts without changing expression. My brother could return home at three in the morning with bruised knuckles and simply ask what was for breakfast. But fear had a language. And Mrs. Ellis had just spoken it. I looked at the dark wooden door again. "Did he say what he wanted?" "No." Of course he hadn't. My father never explained himself when a command would do. I swallowed. "Thank you." She nodded and walked away. I waited until she disappeared around the corner before turning back to the door. The Callahan estate was enormous. Too enormous, sometimes. There were marble floors beneath my feet, paintings worth more than most people's houses, armed guards stationed at every entrance, and enough rooms that I could go days without seeing the same person twice. Yet somehow, I had always felt like I was living inside a cage. A beautiful one. A heavily guarded one. But a cage all the same. I placed my hand on the doorknob. Before I could turn it, the door opened from the inside. My brother stood there. Adrian. His black shirt was rolled up to his elbows, revealing the tattoos running along his forearms. His dark hair was slightly messy, and there was a faint cut above his eyebrow. He looked like he'd been in a fight. Which, knowing Adrian, meant he probably had. His expression softened when he saw me. "Rose." There it was. The name only my father and brother used. My middle name. Rose. It had been my mother's idea. She used to say that a rose was beautiful because it could survive thorns. I had been too young to understand what she meant. I understood now. "You're bleeding," I said. Adrian touched his eyebrow. "It's nothing." "It usually is when you say that." One corner of his mouth lifted. "Since when did you become sarcastic?" "Since you started coming home injured." He laughed quietly. It was one of the things I loved about Adrian. He could be terrifying to everyone else. But with me, he was still my older brother. Even if sometimes his version of protecting me felt suspiciously like locking me inside a vault. His eyes moved over me. "You look pale." "I'm fine." "Rose." "I'm fine." He studied me for another second. Then he stepped aside. "Come on." I entered the study. The first thing I noticed was my father. Vincent Callahan sat behind his massive desk, one hand resting beside an untouched glass of whiskey. He didn't look up immediately. That was another thing he did. He made people wait. He made people wonder. He made silence feel like a punishment. Adrian walked farther into the room. I remained near the door. My father's eyes finally lifted. They settled on me. "Come here." Two words. My stomach tightened. I obeyed. Of course I did. I stopped in front of his desk. "Sit." I sat. Adrian remained standing. My father looked between the two of us. "There will be a wedding." For a moment, I wasn't sure I had heard him correctly. "A wedding?" Adrian's jaw tightened. "Father." Vincent ignored him. His eyes stayed on me. "You will be married." My fingers curled into the fabric of my dress. "To who?" My father leaned back. "Nico Vassallo." Everything inside me stopped. Nico. For several seconds, the room seemed to lose all sound. I heard nothing. Not the ticking clock. Not the faint hum of the air conditioner. Not Adrian's sharp inhale. Nothing. Just one name. Nico Vassallo. The boy who had once been a teenager standing in our kitchen at midnight, laughing with Adrian. The man who had grown into the most feared heir in the Italian underworld. The man whose voice I could recognize from across a crowded room. The man whose favorite whiskey I knew. The man who hated tomatoes. The man who always loosened his tie after dinner. The man who rubbed the bridge of his nose whenever he was annoyed. The man I had loved for years. My father watched my face. "Do you understand?" I forced myself to breathe. "Yes." "Good." Adrian finally spoke. "No." My father looked at him. "No?" "You can't be serious." "I am." "You want to marry Rose to Nico?" "Yes." Adrian's expression hardened. "She's twenty." "She is old enough." "That's not the point." "Then what is?" "She's my sister." My father gave him a cold look. "Which makes this alliance even more useful." I stared at my hands. Alliance. That was all I was. A piece on a board. A daughter. A bargaining chip. A Callahan. Not Vivian. Not Rose. Just a name attached to another powerful family. My heart should have broken. Instead, something dangerous and foolish fluttered inside my chest. Nico. I was going to marry Nico. The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it made me want to smile. I hated myself for it. Because this wasn't a love story. Not for him. My father continued. "The Vassallos need the alliance. We need theirs." "Why?" Adrian asked. Vincent's expression changed. Just slightly. "The war is coming." The room became silent again. This time, the silence was different. Heavier. Adrian's face lost whatever anger had been there. "What war?" My father looked toward the window. "There is an organization moving against both families. They've been testing our borders for months." "Who?" "Doesn't matter." "It matters to me." "It will matter when I decide it matters." Adrian's hands curled into fists. My father turned back to us. "The Vassallos have the men. We have the territory. Neither family is strong enough to ignore the other." "And marriage fixes that?" Adrian asked bitterly. "It strengthens it." My father's gaze shifted to me. "Nico needs a wife." My heart sank. Not because he needed one. Because I already knew what that meant. My father had never once looked at me like a father looking at his daughter. He looked at me like a Callahan asset. And apparently, tonight, I had become an especially valuable one. "Nico needs to marry before Matteo officially passes control of the organization to him," Father continued. "If he refuses, his father's succession plans change." Adrian scoffed. "Nico isn't going to refuse." "No." My father's eyes narrowed. "Because he has already agreed." My heart stopped. He had agreed. Just like that. Nico had agreed to marry me. I couldn't tell whether I wanted to laugh or cry. Maybe both. Adrian stared at Father. "He agreed to Rose?" "He agreed to the arrangement." The distinction shouldn't have mattered. It did. My father stood. "Preparations begin immediately." I looked up. "Immediately?" "One week." My breath caught. "One week?" "Is there a problem?" "No." The answer came automatically. My father nodded. "Good." He walked around the desk and stopped in front of me. For one terrifying second, I thought he might touch my shoulder. He didn't. Instead, he looked down at me. "You will represent this family well." There it was. Not congratulations. Not happiness. Not even a question about how I felt. An instruction. I lowered my eyes. "Yes, Father." His expression hardened. "Look at me when I speak to you." I forced myself to meet his eyes. "You will not embarrass me." "I won't." "You will not create problems for Nico." "I won't." "You will remember that this marriage serves a purpose." My throat tightened. "Yes." He walked away. "You're dismissed." Adrian waited until we were outside the study before speaking. "Rose." I kept walking. "Rose." "I'm fine." "You don't have to be." I stopped. He stood behind me. "You don't want this?" The question was dangerous. Because the truth was complicated. I wanted Nico. I had wanted him for years. But I had never wanted this. I had never dreamed of standing beside him while our families watched us exchange vows because a war was coming. I had dreamed of something softer. Something impossible. Something that probably existed only in books. I turned to my brother. "I'll do it." His face tightened. "You shouldn't have to." I smiled faintly. "It's okay." "No, it isn't." He stepped closer. "Rose, listen to me. If Nico hurts you—" "He won't." "You don't know that." "I know him." Adrian's expression became almost amused. "You think you know Nico?" My heart skipped. More than anyone. But I couldn't say that. So I simply shrugged. "He has always been kind to me." Adrian gave me a strange look. "He's been protective of you." I smiled. "Exactly." He didn't smile back. "That's not the same thing." Before I could answer, a familiar voice came from behind us. "Adrian." My entire body went still. I knew that voice. I had heard it in my dreams. I turned slowly. Nico stood at the end of the hallway. Six feet four inches of controlled danger. His dark hair was swept back from his face, his black suit perfectly fitted across his broad shoulders. His brown eyes moved from Adrian to me. And then stopped. For one ridiculous second, I forgot how to breathe. He looked exactly the same. And completely different. Older. Harder. More dangerous. Beautiful. My stupid heart didn't seem to care about the last part. Nico's gaze settled on me. "Vivian." Not Rose. Never Rose. I smiled anyway. "Hello, Nico." He nodded. "Hello." Adrian looked between us. "You came early." "Matteo wanted me here." Adrian's jaw tightened. "Of course he did." Nico's eyes moved toward me again. There was no softness there. No hidden affection. Nothing I could mistake for what I felt. Only calm certainty. Like he already knew exactly how this was going to go. "I suppose congratulations are in order," he said. My stomach dropped. "Congratulations?" His eyes remained on mine. "Our engagement." The word hurt more than it should have. Because for him, it was an arrangement. For me, it was the death of a dream I had spent years secretly keeping alive. I smiled. "Yes." Neither of us said anything else. Then Nico looked at Adrian. "We need to talk." Adrian nodded. I stepped aside. As they walked past me, Nico paused. Just for a second. He looked down at me. "You'll be taken care of." And then he walked away. I stood there. Watching the man I loved disappear down the hallway with my brother. I pressed my lips together. You'll be taken care of. That was all I was to him. A responsibility. A duty. A piece of the alliance. I turned toward my bedroom. Maybe that was all I needed to be. Because if I had learned anything in twenty years of being Vincent Callahan's daughter, it was this: Sometimes wanting something didn't mean you were allowed to have it. And sometimes the cruelest thing in the world wasn't losing the person you loved. It was getting exactly what you wanted— and discovering they didn't want you back.