Fire to fire || 18+

Chap 3

I didn't wear the gown Lorenzo had prepared for me. The dress itself was a loud, pathetic confession of his dirty desire to sell me off. He wasn't even trying to be subtle about it. The fabric was so sheer and the cut so low that it left absolutely nothing to the imagination. My darling brother clearly wanted me to spread my legs for that Lombardi cunt just to secure his own shaky future.

“Burn it,” I told my maids. They looked hesitant for a split second, but they knew better than to challenge me. Lorenzo might have the title of heir for now, but these women remembered who I was before I left. They knew I wasn't someone they could mess with without losing a finger or a tongue.

The maids hurried to obey, tossing the silk into the fireplace and watching the flames lick at the expensive lace.

“Stop the fire,” I commanded suddenly. They immediately scrambled to pour water over the hearth until the flames died out in a hiss of grey smoke. “Now, take those charred remains and leave them on my dear brother’s silk pillow with a note. Tell him he can wear it and stretch his own hole for the Lombardi men if he’s that desperate to lick their balls.”

The maids nodded and scurried off to collect the wet, blackened fabric from the floor. I didn't wait to see them leave. I turned around and headed for the bathroom, needing a hot shower to wash the scent of my family’s desperation off my skin. When I reached the door, I looked over my shoulder one last time.

“And you better make sure you don't change a single word to soften the blow,” I warned them. “That mutt needs to be taught his place.”

I slammed the door shut and let the sound echo through the suite. Peace finally engulfed me as soon as I sunk into the steaming water. The smell of floral body wash hit me, momentarily relaxing the knots in my shoulders and soothing my jagged senses. I closed my eyes and let the heat melt away the stress of the flight and the reunion.

That peace lasted about three minutes before my mother dearest decided to walk in.

“You didn't come to meet me,” she said. Her voice was sweet, sounding like honey poured over a razor blade. It was the voice of the main culprit behind my doom.

Without opening my eyes, I gave a simple command. “Get out.”

I didn't need her fake smiles to ruin the rest of my mood. The fact that she was acting like she cared was utterly disgusting, especially since she was the one who spent years planning to send me away. She didn't love me; she just feared I would take the crown from her precious little mutt.

“I know you are angry at me,” she said slowly as she walked closer to the tub. “And I really am sorry about how this looks. You are ambitious, Naesa. I was always afraid you would harm your brother to get what you want.”

“And what makes you think I don't still plan to slit his throat and slay him like a pig?” I smirked, picturing the way her perfect face must have twisted in the steam. “You know he won't be able to defend himself. He’s weak, and pathetic.”

“He is the heir,” her voice sounded aggrieved and heavy with a fear she couldn't quite hide.

“You must know by now that being an heir means nothing if you can't keep your head on your shoulders,” I replied, opening my eyes just enough to see her flinch. “If I kill him, I will be the heir and the Capo by default. It's simple math, Mother.”

I smiled, enjoying the way her breathing got louder and more ragged. She didn't dare push my buttons any further because she knew I wasn't bluffing. She knew exactly what I was capable of.

“Now get out and close the door behind you,” I said, turning my head away. “I didn't come back to hear your lies about family values.”

She didn't stay to argue. She retreated and closed the door with a soft click.

Once I finished my shower, the real work began. Getting ready wasn't just about aesthetics; it was about tactical preparation. This process included gearing up with a set of daggers and a compact gun hidden beneath the layers of my clothing. My closet had been pre-packed with girly dresses designed to make me look more feminine for the male gaze. It was a sea of pastels and ruffles that made me want to vomit.

I pulled on the most uninteresting, plain dress I could find. It was a muted shade that did nothing for my complexion. The maids returned just in time to start on my hair and makeup.

“Your skin is glowing,” one of them complimented. “You look ethereal, Miss Naesa.”

“Flattering me will do nothing for your paycheck,” I commented flatly. “Use the most muted color of lipstick I own. I’m not going to look pretty for a Lombardi.”

“You only own shades of red,” the maid whispered, looking through my vanity.

“Then use the most unflattering shade of red in the pile,” I replied.

“Every red looks good on you,” she insisted, sounding genuinely distressed.

“Then just pick a random one and get it over with,” I sighed loudly, closing my eyes to hide my irritation.

“You have become more humane,” the other maid murmured almost silently while she pinned my hair. I chose to ignore the comment. If being "humane" meant having the patience not to slap her for talking back, then perhaps she was right.

I pulled on my heels and walked toward the grand dining hall. When I entered the room, I felt every pair of eyes lock onto me. Some were murderous, some were curious, and a few of the younger guards watched in awe. But when my gaze landed on Rafaele Lombardi, he looked at me like I was a piece of dirt he had accidentally stepped on.

That look ignited a fresh wave of fury in my gut. How dare he. I made a silent promise to myself right then that I would rip that smugness out of him with my bare hands. I turned my eyes away from his boring, arrogant face and focused on my father.

“Come here, Naesa,” my dad commanded, gesturing for me to stand beside him.

He raised his glass to make a toast for the successful union of our two great families. I could hear the way he gritted his teeth when he said the name “Lombardi.” It was clear that acknowledging them as equals was physically painful for him.

The other side of the table wasn't much better. The Lombardi men were grunting and grinding their teeth, looking like they would rather be anywhere else.

Both families were supposedly allies now, but the hatred in the air was so thick you could choke on it. Every single person in that room looked like they would rather be trapped in a truck full of horse s**t than sit in each other's presence for another minute.

I took a sip of my wine and caught Rafaele looking at me again with that same trifling, bored expression. He truly thought he was the one holding all the cards. He thought he was doing me a favor by pulling me out of my "struggling" life to be his bride. He had no idea he hadn't just married a Sartoni; he had moved a ticking time bomb into his bedroom.

~•~