The honeymoon suite in the D'Angelo estate wasn't romantic—it was designed to intimidate.
Dark velvet curtains framed the tall windows. The bed was massive, draped in black silk sheets. A fireplace crackled in the corner, but it didn't warm the air between them.
Luciano stood near the bed, removing his cufflinks with slow, deliberate movements.
Aria didn't move from the door.
"You planning to sleep there?" he asked without looking at her.
She lifted her chin. "Are you planning to pretend this is a real marriage?"
He turned to her then, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. "It doesn't need to be real. Just convincing."
She stepped forward, slowly, calculating every movement. "Convincing for whom?"
"The world. Our families. My enemies." He paused. "And yours."
My enemies. The words wrapped around her heart like a vice. Matteo's funeral flashed through her mind—his body cold in the coffin, her father's trembling silence, and Luciano D'Angelo's gaze from across the church.
This man may as well have signed her brother's death certificate.
Aria walked to the vanity and removed her earrings. "Then let's put on a good show."
Luciano watched her through the mirror. "You're not afraid of me."
She met his gaze in the reflection. "Should I be?"
A beat passed. "That depends on your intentions."
I intend to destroy you, she thought.
Instead, she turned and gave him a soft, calculated smile.
"No intentions," she said. "Just a wife, trying to please her husband."
⸻
They didn't kiss. There was no passion, only tension masquerading as closeness.
Luciano undid the buttons on his shirt, but his eyes stayed on her. Testing her. Aria moved closer, letting her silk robe slide from her shoulders.
She could feel his breath on her skin as she leaned in—close enough to tempt, to disarm.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, voice low.
Aria's heart didn't flutter. It clenched.
She had trained for this moment in silence since the proposal. Her body was a weapon. Her touch was strategy.
"Then use me," she whispered. "Isn't that what this is?"
His hand slid to her waist, pulling her into him. His grip was strong, but not violent. Controlled. Measured. Like a man used to breaking things gently.
And she let him.
Because if this was the game…
She planned to win.
⸻
Afterward, Aria lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Luciano's breathing was steady beside her, but she knew he wasn't asleep.
"I know you didn't love my brother," she said into the darkness.
Silence.
"But you respected him, didn't you?"
More silence. Then:
"He was smart. Loyal."
"And still dead."
Luciano's voice was cold. "This world takes the loyal ones first."
Aria rolled to face him. "Then why survive it?"
He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Because someone has to rule what's left."
Her throat tightened, but she didn't blink.
Rule it. Burn it. Bury it.
She would do all three.
Luciano reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. The touch was gentle, almost human.
"You're strong, Aria. I knew it the moment I saw you at the funeral."
"You mean when you crashed it."
"When I watched you bury your brother without crying. That's not weakness," he added. "That's fury in disguise."
He leaned in, his lips grazing her temple. "And fury can be powerful… if you know where to aim it."
I do, she thought.
Right at your heart.
⸻
Later, when he finally fell asleep, Aria rose from the bed and walked to the massive window.
The garden below was empty—lit only by moonlight and shadow.
She pressed her fingertips to the glass.
This wasn't a home. It was a cage.
But even caged, she would become dangerous.
She glanced back at Luciano's sleeping form.
Seduce.
Manipulate.
Destroy.
That was the plan.
And she had just begun.
⸻
As she walked to the bathroom to wash the night off her skin, a sudden flash of red caught her eye—something small tucked beneath her vanity tray.
A card.
She picked it up.
It wasn't from Luciano.
It wasn't from anyone she recognized.
In clean, handwritten ink:
"He's not the only one watching.
Don't trust the king.
The ashes hide more than you think."
No name. No signature.
Just a warning.
Aria stared at the message, pulse racing.
She wasn't the only one playing a game.
Someone else was already inside the castle.
Watching.