Nero’s hands dropped to his sides. In the silence, I heard the faint, rhythmic grind of his molars.

“If you’re going to give me the cold shoulder over a bouquet, I’m not staying.”

He pulled his car keys from his pocket, the metal clinking sharply in the still air.

“Valentina lives in a secluded area. I need to make sure she gets home safely.”

I didn't say a word. I didn't stop him.

I simply watched as the heavy steel door clicked shut behind him, sealing me in the echo of his departure.

The moment he was gone, my shoulders slumped. I collapsed onto the leather sofa.

I stared at the ceiling for a long time, listening to the low hum of the central air, which sounded like the deep breathing of some great beast.

Slowly, I pushed myself up and walked down the dim hallway.

I stopped at the room at the far end.

It had reinforced steel walls and bulletproof glass to keep the scent of gunpowder and bleach away from the contents.

It was supposed to be our future nursery.

I walked to the small safe in the corner and clicked it open.

Inside were the mementos of eight years of surviving this brutal industry.

I pulled out a faded photo of us as teenagers.

Nero had his arms wrapped tightly around me, glaring at the camera with fierce protectiveness.

That day, he had promised to spend his life guarding mine.

I put the photo back and locked the safe, sealing away the broken promises.

It was past 3:00 AM when I heard the front door open.

Nero walked into the living room, loosening his tie with an air of exhaustion.

He smelled of expensive cigars and something else—the faint, cloying scent of vanilla perfume.

I was waiting for him, sitting in the dark.

“Feeling nostalgic?” he asked softly, noticing I was still awake.

“Did you get Valentina safely to her door?” I asked, my voice flat and calm.

“Her neighborhood is dangerous, Siena,” he said, deftly sidestepping the real question.

He walked over and reached down, grabbing my arm to pull me up.

“Let’s go to bed.”

I jerked my shoulder, breaking his grip.

I stood up on my own, my legs stiff from sitting too long.

I looked directly into his dark eyes, searching for the boy in the photo and finding only a stranger.

“We’re done, Nero.”

He scoffed, a condescending smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re throwing a tantrum over the bouquet.”

He turned his back on me, walking toward the master bath, dismissing me entirely.

“I’ll buy you a bigger, more expensive bouquet tomorrow to appease you.”

I watched his broad shoulders move away from me, the final thread of our connection snapping.

“I’m getting married next week.”

Nero stopped dead in his tracks.

The indulgent warmth on Nero’s face vanished.

He turned slowly, replaced by the cold, ruthless mask of the Underboss.

His dark eyes pinned me, narrowing like a predator assessing a sudden threat.

“Don't play games with me, Siena,” he rumbled, his voice dropping into a dangerous register.

He took a menacing step toward me, a warning in his stride. “Marriage isn't a bargaining chip in our world.”

I kept my hands at my sides, feeling a strange, hollow sense of peace as the fear left me.

“The date is next Saturday,” I said calmly.

I told him the name of the luxury hotel located in neutral territory.

“My dress is already tailored and waiting.”

Nero let out a harsh laugh, his upper lip curling in distaste.

“Did Gia’s wedding scramble your brain?”

He closed the distance between us, using his height to loom over me—a blatant display of dominance.

“This idiocy ends now,” he growled.

“I’ve given you eight years. I’ve given you the best protection in this city.”

He poked a heavy finger against my chest.

“Stop deluding yourself.”

“The formal invitations will be printed and distributed by tomorrow morning,” I replied coldly, unmoved by his posturing.

I had already made the arrangements. A decoy invitation with his name on it would be sent specifically to him to keep him humiliated, while the real ones went to Dante’s sealed territories.

A vein pulsed in his temple, his annoyance curdling into a quiet, terrifying rage.

“You’re being immature and unreasonable.”

His hand shot out, his fingers hooking under my chin, forcing my gaze up to meet his.

“I’m about to be Don,” he hissed. “I won’t be distracted by your petty demands.”

“Are you really that desperate to be possessed by a man?” he snapped.

I stared into the depths of his eyes and could no longer find the boy who once loved me.

He didn't understand my emotional needs, and he never would.

Instead of flinching, I reached up and calmly peeled his fingers off my face.

“Yes,” I admitted. “I want to be a wife.”

Without another word, I turned and walked away.

I stepped into the master bedroom and shut the heavy oak door behind me, locking him out.

I leaned my back against the closed bedroom door and let out a long, slow breath.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of city lights through the windows, casting long shadows.

I walked to the bed and looked down at the nightstand.

A stack of high-end wedding planning magazines sat there, covered in a thin layer of dust.

I remembered the excitement I felt bringing them home, only for Nero to glance at them and casually mention that we weren't in a hurry.

The glossy pages were a bitter mockery now.

I sank onto the edge of the mattress, letting the shadows swallow me.

I thought about the past eight years spent in cold safe houses, waiting for him to come home.

The vibration of my burner phone broke the silence.

I picked it up to find an encrypted message from Gia.

Her text started with a string of creative curses directed at Nero and his secretary.

“My surveillance just confirmed he drove her all the way to her safe house tonight,” Gia wrote, the fury almost burning through the screen.

A second message popped up immediately.

“He’s blind to your loyalty, Siena.”

I stared at the glowing screen, feeling the weight of my best friend’s sympathy.

Then, one more message.

“If it gives you peace, I will release you from our oath to marry in the same week.”

Gia was giving me an out—a way to avoid the rush of a backup plan just to keep a childhood promise.

My fingers hovered over the digital keyboard for a long time.

I thought about the man waiting in the shadows—the ruthless Don who had offered me not just a ring, but a crown.

Don Dante. The head of a rival family. A man who had been waiting for me to see the light.

I steadied my hands and typed back.

“I never break an oath.”