Thorns And Silk

Chapter 4 — Rules

Aria's POV

I woke up confused.

For one terrifying second, I forgot where I was.

Then reality returned slowly.

The massive unfamiliar bedroom.

The soft black silk sheets tangled around my legs.

The rain tapping gently against tall windows.

And Dante Castellano asleep on the couch across the room.

My chest tightened strangely.

He was still there.

I sat up carefully, trying not to make noise, but the mattress shifted softly beneath me.

Dante’s eyes opened instantly.

Not groggy.

Not confused.

Alert.

Like a man who never truly slept.

Fear flickered automatically through me before I could stop it.

His gaze settled on me calmly. “Morning.”

I swallowed. “Good morning.”

Silence stretched awkwardly between us.

I didn’t know what wives were supposed to say to mafia kings after forced marriages.

Dante stood slowly from the couch, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders. Even half-awake, he looked intimidating. The sleeves of his black shirt were pushed slightly upward, revealing tattooed skin along his forearms.

My eyes dropped quickly.

“You should eat something,” he said.

“I’m not hungry.”

Lie.

My stomach had been hurting from hunger since yesterday afternoon.

But eating around other people always made me nervous.

Dante studied me for a moment too long.

Then he spoke quietly.

“That wasn’t a suggestion.”

I stiffened instantly.

The cold command in his tone pulled old instincts sharply to the surface.

Obey quickly.

Do not upset him.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered while immediately climbing out of bed.

Dante’s jaw tightened faintly.

Again.

Always that reaction whenever I apologized.

I quickly moved toward the bathroom before I could embarrass myself further.

But the moment the bathroom door closed behind me, I finally breathed properly again.

My reflection stared back from the mirror.

Messy dark hair.

Smudged mascara beneath tired eyes.

Fading bruises along my cheekbone.

Married.

The diamond ring on my finger glimmered beneath the lights like proof of ownership.

I touched it carefully.

Not because I loved it.

Because it frightened me.

A knock sounded softly outside the bathroom door.

I jumped.

“Aria?” Dante’s voice came through calmly. “Rosa left clothes for you outside.”

“Oh.”

Silence.

Then quietly—

“Thank you.”

A pause followed before his footsteps retreated.

I changed quickly into the cream-colored sweater and long skirt Rosa had left for me. The fabric felt soft against my skin, unfamiliar in the gentlest way.

No one had chosen comfortable clothes for me before.

Only beautiful ones.

When I finally stepped downstairs twenty minutes later, anxiety immediately curled through my stomach again.

The dining room alone looked larger than the entire first floor of the Voss estate.

Dark wood.

Tall windows.

Fresh flowers.

And Dante seated at the head of the table reading documents while drinking coffee.

He looked up the moment I entered.

“There you are.”

I froze near the doorway. “Sorry.”

Dante placed the papers down slowly.

“Aria.”

The warning in his voice made me tense.

“Yes?”

“Stop apologizing for existing.”

The words hit me so unexpectedly that I forgot how to respond.

Heat crawled into my cheeks.

“I…” My throat tightened. “I don’t know how.”

Something unreadable crossed his face then.

Before either of us could say more, Rosa entered carrying breakfast plates.

“Good morning, tesoro,” she greeted warmly.

I blinked in surprise.

Tesoro.

Treasure.

The affectionate nickname made something ache painfully inside my chest.

“Good morning,” I whispered.

Rosa smiled softly before setting food down in front of me.

Pancakes.

Fresh fruit.

Tea.

Far too much.

“You barely ate at the wedding yesterday,” she scolded gently. “That changes today.”

“I can’t eat all this.”

“You can try.”

Dante remained silent while watching me carefully over his coffee cup.

The attention made my hands shake slightly as I picked up the fork.

I forced myself to take a bite despite the nervous knot in my stomach.

“See?” Rosa said proudly. “Not so difficult.”

A tiny smile almost appeared on my lips before I quickly hid it.

Dante noticed anyway.

Of course he did.

The strange tension in the room broke when Luca entered abruptly.

He stopped short upon seeing me seated beside Dante.

“Well,” he muttered dryly, “the bride survives.”

Dante looked unimpressed. “You’re late.”

“I had things to do.”

Luca’s sharp gaze shifted toward me briefly before he nodded once. “Mrs. Castellano.”

Fear tightened in my chest automatically.

“Good morning.”

He studied me for a second too long before looking back at Dante.

“We need to discuss the shipment issue.”

“Office. Ten minutes.”

Luca nodded and turned to leave.

Then Dante spoke again.

“One more thing.”

Luca paused.

Dante’s expression became cold enough to freeze the entire room.

“Nobody touches her.”

Silence.

Rosa stopped moving.

I froze completely.

Luca raised an eyebrow slightly. “Was that a problem already?”

“Yes.”

Something dangerous flickered behind Dante’s eyes briefly.

“If anyone in this house disrespects my wife,” he continued evenly, “they answer to me.”

My pulse stumbled unevenly inside my chest.

Wife.

The word sounded strange in his mouth.

Luca nodded once without argument. “Understood.”

Then he left.

The room remained quiet afterward.

I stared down at my untouched tea because I suddenly didn’t know what to do with the overwhelming pressure building behind my ribs.

Nobody touches her.

Nobody had ever protected me out loud before.

Not once.

Dante's POV

She looked confused by kindness.

That realization followed me the entire morning.

Every small gesture seemed to unsettle her.

Rosa offering breakfast.

A servant opening the door for her.

Simple politeness.

Aria reacted to softness like it was dangerous.

Which meant her life before this had been far worse than even I imagined.

I stood in my office overlooking the security monitors while Luca reviewed shipment reports beside me.

“The Russians are pushing farther south,” he said. “If we don’t respond soon—”

My attention drifted toward another screen.

Kitchen camera.

Aria stood alone near the counter speaking quietly with Rosa while helping arrange flowers into a vase.

Interesting.

“She’s trying to help the staff,” I observed absentmindedly.

Luca followed my gaze toward the monitor.

“She looks nervous.”

“She is nervous.”

“Can you blame her?”

No.

Not really.

Aria accidentally knocked a spoon onto the floor and immediately flinched so hard it looked instinctive.

My expression darkened instantly.

Fear conditioned into reflex.

Jesus Christ.

Luca noticed my face carefully.

“You’re attached already.”

“I’m observant.”

“You threatened an entire household over her this morning.”

“She’s my responsibility.”

Luca leaned back against the desk with crossed arms. “You know what I think?”

“That should worry me.”

“I think you saw a wounded animal and decided to keep it.”

I looked at him flatly.

He shrugged. “You’ve always had a savior complex buried somewhere underneath all the murder.”

“I don’t have a savior complex.”

“You burned down a man’s casino once because he hit a waitress.”

“He annoyed me.”

Luca laughed quietly.

Before I could answer, movement on the monitor caught my attention again.

One of the younger kitchen staff reached suddenly for a falling tray beside Aria.

Too quickly.

Too close.

Aria panicked instantly.

The tray crashed loudly against the marble floor.

Glass shattered everywhere.

And Aria—

Aria backed away so fast she nearly stumbled, her breathing visibly uneven even through the monitor.

Every person in the kitchen froze.

Fear flooded her face.

Not fear of injury.

Fear of punishment.

Something ugly twisted inside my chest immediately.

I was already moving toward the door before Luca spoke again.

“You’re going down there?”

“Yes.”

“You know that’s insane behavior, right?”

I ignored him.

By the time I entered the kitchen, the entire room had gone painfully silent.

Aria stood near the counter staring at the broken glass like she expected execution.

One of the maids looked close to tears.

“I’m sorry,” Aria whispered shakily before anyone could speak. “I’ll clean it up.”

She dropped immediately to her knees.

Directly toward shattered glass.

“Stop.”

My voice cut sharply through the room.

Aria froze instantly.

Everyone else stepped back nervously.

I walked closer slowly until I stood directly beside her kneeling form.

Her hands were trembling badly.

She wouldn’t look at me.

“I broke it,” she whispered quickly. “I didn’t mean to, I just—”

“Aria.”

She stopped speaking.

I crouched down beside her calmly.

“It’s a plate.”

Silence.

She blinked rapidly.

“A plate,” I repeated. “Not a catastrophe.”

Her breathing remained uneven.

“You don’t need to panic.”

The words seemed to confuse her more.

I carefully picked up one of the larger glass pieces before looking toward the horrified staff.

“Everyone out.”

They scattered instantly.

Within seconds only Rosa, Aria, and I remained.

Aria still knelt frozen beside the broken tray.

Like she expected the calm to disappear any second.

I recognized that feeling too well.

“You’re bleeding,” Rosa said suddenly.

I looked down.

A thin line of blood stretched across Aria’s palm where a small shard had cut her skin.

She immediately hid her hand behind her back.

“It’s fine.”

Another lie.

I reached for her wrist gently.

She flinched.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

Enough to make my jaw tighten.

Still, she let me pull her hand forward.

The cut was small.

But her pulse beneath my fingers raced wildly.

“You’re scared of me,” I observed quietly.

Her eyes widened.

“No.”

“Aria.”

Silence.

Then finally—

“A little.”

Honest.

At least that.

I nodded once. “Fair.”

Something flickered across her face.

Confusion again.

Probably because I didn’t punish honesty.

Rosa handed me a clean towel silently while I wrapped it around Aria’s palm.

Her skin felt freezing cold.

“You don’t have to earn safety in this house,” I said quietly while tying the cloth carefully around her hand.

Her throat moved as she swallowed hard.

“I don’t understand what that means.”

Christ.

The simple sincerity in her voice nearly unsettled me.

I looked up at her slowly.

Then answered honestly.

“It means accidents don’t make you disposable here.”

The kitchen fell silent again.

And for the first time since arriving at the estate—

Aria looked at me without immediate terror.

Aria's POV

Nightmares followed me anyway.

It didn’t matter how soft the bed was.

Or how quiet the mansion became at night.

Fear always found me eventually.

I woke gasping sometime after midnight with my heartbeat crashing violently against my ribs.

Darkness surrounded the room.

Rain thundered outside the windows.

For one horrifying second, I thought I was thirteen again.

Locked outside during a storm while Sebastian laughed from the balcony overhead.

Panic exploded instantly.

I stumbled from the bed too quickly, struggling for air while memories clawed through my mind.

Cold rain.

Locked doors.

Begging to be let inside.

“Please—please—I’m sorry—”

My breathing became sharp and painful.

Too fast.

I pressed shaking hands against my mouth desperately.

Not here.

Please not here.

The bedroom door suddenly opened.

I flinched violently.

Dante entered immediately wearing dark sweatpants and a black t-shirt, his expression sharpening the moment he saw me crouched near the bed.

“Aria.”

I couldn’t answer.

Air refused to reach my lungs properly.

He moved closer carefully. “Look at me.”

I shook my head rapidly.

Too overwhelmed.

Too terrified.

Dante crouched in front of me slowly, keeping enough distance not to trap me.

“Breathe.”

I tried.

Failed.

Tears blurred my vision instantly.

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.”

His voice remained low.

Steady.

Calm.

“Focus on me.”

Thunder cracked loudly outside.

I whimpered before I could stop myself.

Dante’s expression changed instantly.

Understanding.

“What happened during storms?” he asked quietly.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Aria.”

“He used to lock me outside,” I whispered brokenly. “When I upset him.”

Rage flashed across Dante’s face so quickly it frightened me.

But not at me.

Never at me.

That realization hit softly somewhere deep inside my chest.

“Look at me,” he repeated gently.

This time I obeyed.

His dark eyes held mine steadily while he spoke.

“Count with me.”

My breathing shook violently.

“In.”

I inhaled unevenly.

“Out.”

Slowly.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Minutes passed.

Or maybe hours.

Eventually my breathing stopped hurting quite so much.

Exhaustion replaced panic slowly.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered weakly.

Dante sighed softly like the apology physically pained him.

“One day,” he muttered quietly, “I’m going to teach you to stop saying that.”

Despite everything—

Despite the tears and fear and lingering panic—

Something warm flickered briefly inside my chest.

And for the first time in years…

I didn’t feel completely alone.