No Escape from His Gilded Cage

nora

the kitchen doorway, a dress in his hand. He voice i

y hands on my apron. "Why?" The question is

eone. Antonio Conti. An

a certain... incapacity rumored to have resulted from an "accident" years ago. His interests have since turned to other form

y voice firmer than I exp

closer. "You know I have investments in the market. But that money is for the 'future.' Mr. Conti's 'friendship' solves the 'present.'" He pauses, the corner of his mouth lifting

relief of a debtor finding a scapegoat just as Antonio Conti's collector knocks. He isn't desperate; he

urns like bil

try, "we'r

but then put it down. I know that's because he didn't my injuries to get in his way. "Listen, No

is car wearing the sapphire blue silk dress I have ne

nd the smooth silk of the skirt. The image from earlier in the bedroom mirror surfaces again-fading yellow-green bruises, like shameful stamps, scattered around

sudden power and the fear that fuels his bluster, growing crueler by the day. The initial shoves and insults escalated, at some unmarked point, into fists. He is always careful, avoiding visible areas-becau

I've been a good girl. I keep my nose clean. Please

lack suits flank the entrance like iron towers. Even the ne

o enjoy strippers and gambling. And I am about to be deliver

n in the seat of honor: Antonio Conti. His gaze sweeps over like a searchlight, l

f nausea

uickly away. I need air, need temporary escape from that booth that feels poised to swallo

st my ribs, the silk of the dress suddenly feels abrasive against my skin. I decided to go back. Rounding

posture erect, dressed in a perfectly fitted charcoal suit. He is bent slightly, his attention focused on several objects laid out on the desk's surface-

d, practiced, with a ritualistic focus, as if

doorway, my bloo

, but he doesn't turn immediately. Instead, he secures the final piece-likely th

God, what have I don

But this proximity is devastating. His eyes regard me now with a calm, utterly impe

too stunned to notice someone approaches form behind. He drags me into the room and c

standing near a dormant volcano. Fear seizes my heart. I have blundered into the private san

he Five Families aren't just names, they're the law. Every Sicil

the big man with me, but put him in front of one of Marino'

his pride out there, you can bet

r muscles straining his suit jacket. They have gazes as sharp as a hawk's, constantly scanning the room and me. Th

s a dry, rasping whisper, "I

ostly assembled pistol, racking the slide once to check the action with a smooth, unnervingl

I'd imagined, devoid of emotion yet carrying an undeniable weight. He speaks while st

anage to stammer my

settling on my face, this time with a touch of consideration. "Greco

e realization makes

my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

th as he closes the distance between us. "I h

retreat, but by some miracle,

thirties, his features handsome in a severe, almost brutal way-a straight nose, lips that are thin and sharply defined, a jawline that could cut glass. Most arresting are his eyes,

ked sound escaping me. Eyes squeezed shut, fists clenched at my sid

blow nev

feel a gentle pull at my

strand of my hair coiled loosely aro

ce erupts from the hall. "For fuck's sake, Nora

door. His voice cuts through.

unds he couldn't

I can't look away from the real

?" Matteo hisses

es my curl. I smooth my hair with a trembling hand and stumb

"I was just lost. I didn't mean to disturb Mr. Marino, I s

"Take Miss Greco to a room. Get her so

that right?

e drills back in

nse relief cra

g towards the door with a silent

ortably furnished with a sofa, a low table, even an abstract painting on the wall. Joey pours a glass of water, se

perfection of his features, those calm, terrifying eyes. Fear still holds the largest part of me, but in the interstices of that primal terror, an incongruous thought wriggles free-he i

o Marino's "handsomeness" is like the velvet on a noose, the jewel on a dagger's hilt. An

uiet room, for the man who calmly a