Marie did not relent.
**Day Two:**
Ann and Marie organized an impromptu archery competition in the gardens. Marie wore another scandalous gown, this one emerald green with sleeves that kept sliding off her shoulders.
Lorenzo watched from the terrace, white-knuckled, as Sir Giacomo literally stumbled over his own feet trying to demonstrate proper stance.
That night, Marie came to bed wearing only a thin shift and her fur-lined robe. She sat in the chair by the fire, Lorenzo's chair, and let the robe fall open, revealing bare legs, bare shoulders, everything barely concealed by the transparent fabric.
"It's quite warm tonight," she said innocently.
Lorenzo stared at her for one long moment, then grabbed her pillow and left the room entirely, sleeping in the camp.
Marcello raised an eyebrow when Lorenzo appeared. "Your Highness?"
"Don't,"Lorenzo said, dropping onto the spare cot. "Just... don't."
**Day Three:**
Marie convinced Ann to host a poetry reading in the library. Marie reclined on a chaise lounge, surrounded by Italian courtiers, and read Petrarch's love sonnets in deliberately breathy Italian, mispronouncing words just enough that the men felt compelled to lean close and correct her.
Lorenzo arrived to find Marie's head practically in young Giacomo's lap as he pointed out a passage in the book.
That night, Marie came to bed later than Lorenzo, humming softly to herself. She slipped under the covers and within minutes seemed to fall asleep.
But then she started making sounds.
Soft sighs at first. Then quiet whimpers. Her body shifting restlessly against the sheets. Small breathy moans that could have been dreams but sounded far too deliberate.
Lorenzo lay rigid beside her, staring at the ceiling, hands clenched at her sides.
Marie's breathing quickened. A low moan. Her hips shifted slightly under the covers.
"*Cazzo,*" ( Fuck) Lorenzo whispered, and fled to the chair.
Behind her, in the dark, Marie smiled.
**Day Four:**
Marie and Ann organized a musical evening. Marie wore lavender silk that made her skin glow and sang French ballads in a voice that was surprisingly beautiful. Every man in the room looked entranced.
When Lorenzo tried to escort her from the room afterward, Marie laughed and said loudly, "My husband is so attentive. He simply cannot bear to be parted from me."
The courtiers thought it romantic. Lorenzo's eye twitched.
That night, Marie decided to bathe before bed.
The Italian maids brought in the copper tub and filled it with steaming water. Marie added oils that made the room smell of roses and honey. She let down her hair and began unlacing her gown.
Lorenzo walked in but
She stopped dead in the doorway.
Marie stood by the tub in her shift, backlit by candlelight, the thin fabric leaving very little to the imagination. The maids were efficiently preparing her bath, laying out towels, completely professional.
Marie turned, saw Lorenzo, and smiled slowly. "Oh. You're back."
Lorenzo should have left immediately. Should have turned around and walked out.
But Marie held her gaze as she slowly, deliberately, pulled the shift over her head.
The maids continued their work, oblivious or pretending to be. Marie stepped into the tub, the water sloshing, and sank into it with a soft sigh of pleasure.
Only then did she look away from Lorenzo, tilting her head back against the rim, eyes closing.
"Goodnight, Marie," she forced out, and left.
But not before she caught the look in Marie's eyes. Dark. Knowing. Triumphant.
Lorenzo made it three steps down the corridor before she had to lean against the wall, breathing hard, her whole body shaking with want.
**Day Five:**
The disaster reached its peak.
Ann and Marie hosted a hunting party. Marie rode side-saddle in a riding habit that was somehow both proper and provocative, fitted so perfectly it left nothing to the imagination. She claimed her horse was "difficult" and required constant assistance mounting and dismounting.
Lorenzo watched Count Borromeo boost Marie into her saddle, his hands on her waist, and something in her snapped.
She rode up beside the Count.
The Count went pale and rode away quickly.
But the damage was done. By the end of the hunt, Marie had four different men offering her their flasks, their cloaks, their hands to help her across difficult terrain.
Lorenzo was rigid with fury.
That night, Lorenzo didn't come to the room at all.
Marie waited until midnight, then went looking for her.
She found Lorenzo in the training yard, alone. Her shirt was soaked with sweat, her movements sharp and angry.
"Giving up so easily?" Marie called from the doorway.
Lorenzo didn't stop. "Go to bed, Marie."
"Make me,"Marie said.
Lorenzo's blade slammed into the practice dummy with enough force to split it. "Don't."
"Don't what?"Marie stepped into the yard. "Don't provoke you? The insult was greater to me, sir"
Lorenzo turned to face her, chest heaving. Her eyes were dark, almost black in the moonlight. "This isn't a game anymore, Marie. Do you have any idea what you've done this week?"
"Exactly what I promised," Marie said coldly. "I'm ruining your life. Just like you ruined mine."
"You're compromising everything!" Lorenzo's voice rose. " Every careful distance I put between us and Henry's court—you've destroyed it all in six days. The wives hate you. The husbands want you. How long before Henry hears about this and uses it as an excuse to keep us at court, to separate us, to—"
"Good," Marie interrupted. "Let him. Let it all fall apart. You lied to me, Lorenzo. You hid the truth about what I would become. You took my choices away. And now you want to blame me for the consequences?"
"I'm not blaming you for being angry!" Lorenzo threw her sword down. "I'm asking if destroying everything—destroying any chance we have at a future together—is really worth it!"
Marie's laugh was bitter. "Worth it? You don't get to ask me that. You don't get to lie to me, take me by force, parade me in front of the whole world as your conquered mistress, and then act surprised when I fight back the only way I know how."
"This isn't fighting back, Marie. This is—"Lorenzo gestured helplessly. "You're brilliant. You're using everything you have—your wit, your beauty, your mind—as a weapon. And it's working. But you're not just hurting me. You're hurting yourself. Because when Henry takes you away from me, when he puts you in some gilded cage at court—"
"Then at least I'll be away from you," Marie said.
The words hung in the air between them.
Lorenzo stared at her. "Is that what you really want?"
Marie held her ground, chin lifted, but something flickered in her eyes. "Yes."
"Liar,"Lorenzo said softly.
"You don't know what I want—"
"I know exactly what you want," Lorenzo said, taking a step closer. "Because I've spent every night this week watching you put on a show. The moaning in your sleep. The bath. The way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention. You don't want to be away from me, Marie."
"Stop," Marie said, but her voice shook.
"You want me to be the evil captor in your story," Lorenzo finished. "But I won't be that to you. Not ever. Because you know this tantrum is not only about revenge. Perhaps you care about me more than you think"
They stared at each other across the dark training yard, both breathing hard, both trembling with want and fury and something neither of them wanted to name.
"Go to bed, Marie," Lorenzo said again, quieter this time. "Before one of us does something we can't take back."
Marie held her ground for one more moment.
Then she turned and walked away, her victory somehow feeling hollow.
Because Lorenzo was right.
And that was the most infuriating part of all.
**CHRISTMAS EVE - THE CHURCH**
The entire household attended midnight mass on Christmas Eve. The small church was decorated with holly and candles, the air thick with incense and anticipation.
Marie wore midnight blue velvet with fur trim at the collar and cuffs—modest by her recent standards, but the color made her eyes luminous and her skin glow like pearls.
Lorenzo wore formal military uniform. a black and red uniform with her family sigil embroidered on the back in gold thread. Her ring sat on her middle finger, heavy and ornate. A small circlet crown rested on her dark hair, marking her rank. She looked every inch the prince—severe, elegant, commanding.
They sat beside each other in the family pew, not touching, not looking at each other, but intensely aware of every breath, every movement.
The service began.
Marie had dismissed Pierro earlier—she was tired of being followed everywhere. He'd looked uncertain but obeyed when she insisted.
Halfway through the mass, during a long hymn, Marie slipped from the pew. She gestured toward the back of the church as if she needed air.
Lorenzo waited exactly thirty seconds, then followed.
Marie was walking down the dim corridor behind the church when strong arms grabbed her from behind and pulled her into a dark alcove—a storage area for vestments and holy vessels, separated from the main church by heavy curtains.
Marie gasped as she was spun around and pressed against the wall.
Lorenzo looked down at her in the darkness, one hand braced beside Marie's head.
Lorenzo chuckled—low and dark and amused.
Marie's hand flew up and smacked Lorenzo's ribs. Hard. "I *hate* when you do that!"
"Do what?" Lorenzo asked, but her voice was rougher than usual, strained.
"Grab me from dark corners like—"
Lorenzo captured her mouth before she could finish.
The kiss was desperate. Frantic. Lorenzo's hands were everywhere—in Marie's hair, on her waist, sliding up her ribs—with an urgency that took Marie completely by surprise.
When they broke apart, Marie was gasping. "Lorenzo, wait—"
"Since when have you become so prude," Lorenzo whispered against her mouth, already kissing her again. "You were so ready for it this whole week,"
Marie pushed at her chest. "We're in a *church*—"
"I don't care." Lorenzo spun her around suddenly, pressing Marie chest first against the wall.
Marie's palms hit the cold stone as Lorenzo pressed against her back, one hand sliding around to grip her throat—not tight, just holding—the other beginning to gather her skirts.
"Lorenzo, what are you—" Marie tried to turn her head but Lorenzo's grip on her throat kept her still. Lorenzo's mouth found the back of Marie's neck, hot, open-mouthed, kissing slowly down to where her pulse beat visibly beneath her skin.
Then Lorenzo's tongue traced over that pulse point, slow and deliberate, and Marie felt him inhale deeply against her neck, as if he was breathing her in.
A shiver ran through Marie's entire body.
"Lorenzo, listen to me—" Marie tried to twist away but Lorenzo followed, pressing her harder against the wall.
" No you listen," Lorenzo breathed against her skin, and Marie felt the words more than heard them."You did this. You made me like this. And now you want to negotiate? Now you want to be reasonable?"
Marie felt a flutter of alarm. She'd never felt Lorenzo this undone. "I wasn't trying to—this was just—"
"Just what?" Lorenzo's hand slid down Marie's side, gripping her hip. "Just a game? Just revenge? You let those men touch you—"
"They barely—"
"I know!" Lorenzo's voice cracked. "But I saw you let them. Saw you smile at them. Lean toward them. And every single time I wanted to—"Her hand fisted in Marie's skirt, trembling. "Do you know what it's like? Watching you? Wanting you so badly I can barely think? And then lying next to you at night knowing I can't—that you won't—"
Marie felt Lorenzo's hand pulling up her dress—not teasing, not slow—just yanking the heavy velvet up with clear, immediate intent. The cold air hit her legs, her thighs.
"Stop—we can't—" Marie's words came out strangled.
"We can,"Lorenzo said against her neck, still kissing, still tasting her pulse. "We will."
Marie tried to push back from the wall but Lorenzo was stronger, holding her there effortlessly. "People will hear—"
"Then be very quiet." Lorenzo's knee pressed between Marie's thighs, forcing them apart. The reality of what was about to happen hit Marie all at once. He was actually going to take her right here, right now, against the wall of a church.
Behind her, Lorenzo's breathing had changed—harsher, more ragged. The hand at her throat tightened slightly, and Marie felt something strange—his jaw working against her neck, as if he was clenching his teeth.
"Lorenzo, listen to me—" Marie tried desperately to negotiate. "What if—what if I—"
She heard the sound of fabric shifting. Lorenzo stepping back slightly, angling her body, hands working at her own trousers.
"What if I did something else?"Marie said quickly, her face burning.
"Ann told me—she said men like when—"She swallowed hard. "I could use my mouth. It would be quick. Less—less risky. No one would know."
Lorenzo went completely still behind her. For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then Lorenzo's hand left her throat and slid down her spine—slowly, deliberately—before gripping her hip hard.
"No," Lorenzo said, and her voice was different now. Darker. Raw. Lorenzo's mouth returned to her neck, but this time Marie felt teeth.
"I don't like," Lorenzo murmured against her skin, and her hand slid up Marie's body, finding Marie's breast through the velvet dress. She squeezed, possessive, claiming. "That you've been spending so much time with Ann."
Marie's breath caught. "Why you want me naive and easy to manipulate"
"She's teaching you things." Lorenzo's fingers found Marie's nipple through the fabric—already hard—and circled it deliberately. Marie felt the pressure even through the layers of her dress. "Things *I* should be teaching you."
Marie felt something shift in the air—a charge, a tension that made her skin prickle. Behind her, Lorenzo's breathing had become almost a growl.
Her hand was still working Marie's nipple, pinching now, rolling it between her fingers just hard enough to make Marie gasp.
"Your sister has no business putting ideas in your head," Lorenzo continued, and Marie heard the edge of possession in his voice. Her other hand slid up to cup Marie's other breast, kneading, thumbs working both nipples now through the dress.
The dual sensation made Marie's knees weak. "No business telling you how to please a man."Lorenzo pinched both nipples hard and Marie whimpered, her back arching involuntarily.
"That knowledge—"Lorenzo's hands were relentless, possessive, working her breasts with clear intent. "—is mine to give you. Mine to show you. Mine."
Marie shivered, harder this time. There was something in Lorenzo's voice that went beyond jealousy. Something almost dangerous. And his hands on her breasts, made it hard to think. "The things I want to teach you," Lorenzo breathed against her ear, one hand still working her breast, fingers rolling her nipple, "are not quick. They're not safe. And they certainly aren't to spare you risk."
She pinched Marie's nipple again—harder this time—and Marie bit her lip to keep from crying out. "When I finally show you how to use that pretty mouth—and I will—it won't be as negotiation. It won't be to make things easier."
Her other hand slid back down to grip Marie's hip while the first stayed at her breast, thumb still circling her nipple through the fabric. "It will be because I want to watch you on your knees, looking up at me, learning exactly how I like to be pleasured."
Marie's knees nearly gave out. The combination of "his" words, "his" hands on her body, the possessive claim in every touch, it was overwhelming.
"But not tonight," Lorenzo continued, finally releasing her breast. "Tonight, I'm taking what I want. The way I want it."