THE DON'S BRIDE

Prison or Palace

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face, the gesture almost gentle but laced with ownership. “Fight me on this, Kiara, and I’ll make sure every designer in Milan comes here under armed escort while you try on dresses in my bedroom,but you will not leave,not while there are enemies breathing who want to use you against me or my family.”

My chest tightened with a mix of defiance and despair,gis family had made it clear: I was an addition to their empire, not an equal,Elena would probably approve of this lockdown,Luca would laugh,and my own family,my father prioritizing the alliance over my freedom, Lorenzo burning with jealousy he couldn’t act on,offered no real escape.

I turned my face away from his touch, staring out the window at the guarded gardens.

“Fine,” I said coldly. “Keep me locked up like one of your trophies,but don’t expect me to thank you for it,or to pretend this is anything but what it is: a cage with a expensive view.”

Rossi didn’t argue,he simply nodded, as if my resistance was exactly what he expected and perhaps what fed that dangerous obsession in his eyes.

“Wise choice,now come,my mother wants to discuss wedding details over lunch,try not to provoke her,the Del Brentas don’t tolerate weakness… even from their future daughters-in-law.”

********

Lunch was served in the formal dining room that overlooked the manicured gardens, but the atmosphere felt more like a war council than a family meal,heavy silver platters of risotto, osso buco, and fresh bread were placed silently by staff who moved like ghosts,eyes down, mouths shut,armed guards stood at every entrance,the air smelled of rich food and underlying tension.

Elena Del Brenta presided at the head of the table like a queen who had long ago accepted that her son ruled in blood,she wore a tailored black dress, pearls gleaming coldly at her throat,her gaze flicked over me repeatedly, assessing, judging.

“The wedding will be at the cathedral, of course,” she said, slicing into her meat with precise movements.

“No small ceremony,the families must see strength,especially after last night’s embarrassment.”

Rossi sat beside me, one arm draped casually over the back of my chair,his presence was a constant weight,he nodded once at his mother but said nothing, his attention mostly on me,watching how I pushed food around my plate without appetite.

Luca lounged across from us, twirling a glass of red wine. “Cathedral’s good. Plenty of exits if the Messina crew decides to crash it. Or the Sicilians. They’ve been sniffing around our northern routes since the hit.”

He shot me a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You ready to stand there in white, little Romano? Or will you faint before the ‘I do’?”

I kept my expression neutral, though my grip tightened on my fork. “I’ll stand where I’m told,that doesn’t mean I’ll smile for the cameras.”

Elena’s lips thinned. “Attitude like that won’t serve you here, girl,the Del Brenta women learn quickly: silence and obedience strengthen the family,your father handed you over for a reason,don’t make us regret accepting damaged goods.”

The words stung, but I refused to show it, damaged goods,that’s all I was to them,an asset with a hymen that still had value,my own family had reduced me to the same,no one asked what *I* wanted.

Before I could respond, Rossi’s hand settled on my knee under the table, a silent warning or claim,I couldn’t tell which.

“Enough, Mother,Kiara is under my protection,the wedding details are handled,focus on ensuring our allies don’t get any ideas about backing out.”

Luca chuckled. “Speaking of allies… that boy Lorenzo looked ready to draw blood earlier. Jealous little pup. You sure you don’t want me to have a word with him? Make sure he understands boundaries?”

The casual offer of violence made my stomach turn.

Lorenzo wasn’t perfect, but he’d been my friend since we were children,someone who saw me as more than a pawn,now he was just another threat in Rossi’s eyes.

“I don’t need anyone ‘handling’ my family’s men,” I said quietly, meeting Luca’s gaze.

“And I’m not asking for special treatment,I just asked for one simple thing this morning, permission to go shopping for basic necessities before the wedding,clothes that actually fit my life, not just whatever gets delivered like room service.”

Rossi’s fingers flexed on my knee,Elena paused mid-bite,Luca raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Shopping?” Elena repeated, as if I’d suggested running naked through the streets. “In the city? Now? With half the underworld wondering if this alliance is already fracturing?”

Rossi’s voice cut in, calm but edged with steel. “She already asked. The answer remains no. It’s not safe. Designers will come here. Security will be tripled. End of discussion.”

I turned to him, frustration boiling over despite my efforts to stay composed. “It’s been less than twenty-four hours and I’m already suffocating. No fresh air, no choices, no nothing except your rules and your family’s judgment. How is this an alliance? It feels like I’ve been sold into a prettier prison.”

Luca whistled low. “She bites. I like it.”

Elena set her knife down with a sharp click. “Prison or palace, child, you’re here now. My son has enemies who would pay dearly for a chance to hurt him through you. Last night proved that. Be grateful he’s keeping you alive instead of parading you like bait.”

Rossi leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear so only I could hear. “Push this again in front of them and the consequences will be private and unpleasant. You stay inside. My men will bring whatever you list. No exceptions.”

I pulled back, refusing to shrink. Inside, defiance warred with cold fear. I wasn’t falling for his “protection”it was just another chain. His mother saw me as a liability. His brother saw sport. My own father had traded me away without a fight. Even Lorenzo’s jealousy offered no real escape; it only painted a bigger target on his back.

The meal continued in strained silence after that. Elena discussed guest lists and security protocols as if I were furniture. Luca made occasional barbed jokes about “virgin sacrifices” and rival families. Rossi ate methodically, but his hand never left my leg, a constant reminder that I belonged to him now,body, schedule, future.