Chapter Three – Something to Protect
1312 Words
Ariella Giovanni
She had barely slept.
Not because of regret—she didn’t have the luxury.
But because her body still pulsed with memory.
The man’s touch. His voice. The way he’d held her, like he’d been waiting a lifetime for her to fall into his lap.
She didn’t even know his last name.
Just Dominic.
Just the storm in his eyes and the way he’d swallowed her name like a vow.
Ari.
She wasn’t supposed to give that name out.
She wasn’t supposed to give herself away. But she had. Completely.
And now she had to face the wreckage.
The wrought-iron gate screeched as the car rolled up the Giovanni estate’s drive.
The mansion loomed above her like a sleeping beast—quiet, waiting, dangerous. No one came to greet her. Not the staff. Not the guards. Only silence, thick as wet cement.
Even the fountain in the courtyard had been turned off.
Her driver didn’t speak as he opened her door.
Ariella stepped out, pulling her coat tighter around the dress still clinging to her thighs. She hadn’t gone home after she left him. Hadn’t gone anywhere familiar. Just wandered. Coffee shops. A train platform. A bookstore that stayed open until dawn. Watching the city move while her heart tried to catch up.
The hem of her dress was wrinkled. Her heels had blistered her feet.
Her hair had fallen loose hours ago.
She didn’t look like a daughter of a don.
She looked like a girl who had been loved and left—except she hadn’t been left.
She had left herself.
The door creaked open before she touched the handle.
Her father stood in the foyer.
He wasn’t shouting. That would’ve been easier.
Instead, he held a glass of wine. His sleeves were rolled. His cufflinks were missing.
That was worse.
“Where were you?” he asked, voice low and deceptively calm.
“Out,” she said. Her voice came out stronger than she felt.
He let the silence stretch like a garrote.
“Do you have any idea what you've done?”
“Yes.” She walked past him. Her heels tapped against the marble floor, echoing like a countdown. “I stopped you from handing me off to a monster.”
“A monster?” His voice remained steady, but the edge cut like a blade.
“Do you even know who Don Valentino is?”
“No.” Her lips tightened. “And I don’t want to.”
He followed her, slow and deliberate, like a predator that didn’t need to rush.
“Then you’re a fool.”
“Better a fool than a pawn.”
He caught her wrist. Not hard—but not gentle either.
“I spent years preparing this alliance. You think you can destroy it with one tantrum?”
Her chin lifted. “I already did.”
He didn’t let go.
“You think sleeping with some random man makes you untouchable?”
Her breath hitched. “You—”
“You think I wouldn’t find out?” His grip tightened. “You walk back in here with the same dress, smelling like s*x and sweat and arrogance, and expect me to bow out?”
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
“How—?”
“I have eyes everywhere.”
She yanked her hand free. “Then maybe use them to look in the mirror.”
He didn’t flinch. But something in his gaze flickered—cold and lethal. The kind of look that made people disappear.
“I should have sent you away years ago,” he said.
“You still can.”
“I will. After the wedding.”
Her laugh cracked like glass. “You’re insane if you think he’ll still want me now.”
“Oh, he will,” her father said softly. “Because Don Valentino doesn’t care about purity. He cares about power. And I promised him mine.”
She took a step back, as if the words had physically struck her.
“He doesn’t even know me.”
“He will. In time.”
“You’re delusional.”
“You’ll wear the dress,” he said. “You’ll stand at the altar. And you’ll smile like your life depends on it.”
She froze.
“Because it does.”
Her lungs stopped moving.
He turned away then, like it was settled. Like it was inevitable. But he paused at the foot of the stairs, tossing one final dagger over his shoulder.
“If you don’t show up…” his voice dropped an octave, almost gentle. “Your mother pays the price.”
The breath left her lungs like a blow.
“You’re threatening her now?”
“I’m protecting what’s mine.”
“No,” she spat. “You’re using her as a shield. Because you know I’d burn this whole house down if it were just me.”
“You’ll do what you’re told.”
He disappeared up the stairs.
---
She didn’t go to her room.
She didn’t want to be anywhere that had mirrors.
Instead, she walked outside and cut through the side garden barefoot, down the stone path that curved behind the main house and led to the greenhouse.
Her mother’s sanctuary.
And hers, once.
The moment she stepped inside, the scent hit her — earth and orchids and something softly rotting. Life and death in the same breath.
It was warm in here. Humid. Overgrown.
Her mother sat in a rattan chair in the middle of the space, teacup balanced in her hand, gaze distant and unreadable.
“Did he tell you?” Ariella asked.
Her mother didn’t look up. Just reached out and touched her cheek with fragile fingers.
“You were always fire,” she said softly. “I prayed it wouldn’t get you burned.”
Ari sank to the ground beside her like a child.
“I thought if I gave myself to someone—anyone—it would ruin his plans.”
“You gave yourself to love?” her mother asked gently.
Ari laughed, bitter and sharp. “I gave myself to spite. I don’t even know who he was.”
Her mother’s eyes softened with pity and something else. Not judgment. Not disappointment.
Fear.
“Then be careful, Ariella. Because spite burns twice. Once on the way out. And again on the way back.”
Ari dropped her head to her mother’s lap.
Her mother’s hand curled in her hair, slow and soft.
“I won’t let him hurt you,” Ari whispered.
“I know,” her mother said. “But you’ll need more than defiance this time. You’ll need patience. And silence. And maybe…” she hesitated, “forgiveness.”
Ari looked up. “For him?”
Her mother shook her head. “For yourself. You’ll blame yourself for this. For surviving. For letting him get close. Don’t. That’s how they win.”
That night, Ari locked her door and took a long shower until her skin stung.
She scrubbed off the perfume. The touch. The memory.
But not the truth.
Because the truth was, she had wanted it.
Not for power. Not for revenge. Not even for escape.
She had wanted that stranger.
And now?
Now she’d never be free of him.
Not when her father was wrapping a noose with her wedding veil.
Not when her mother’s life hung on the edge of her obedience.
She sat on the floor of her bedroom, wrapped in a towel, staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror.
Not a daughter.
Not a bride.
Not even a woman.
A weapon. A pawn. A possession wrapped in silk.
---
Seven days.
That’s all she had.
Seven days until she walked into a chapel and looked the devil in the eyes.
She just didn’t know she’d already done it.
- Writer
