The Marchetti estate in Bel Air was built for displays of power—sprawling grounds, Italian marble, and rooms designed to remind visitors exactly who owned Los Angeles. Tonight, it was filled with family: uncles, cousins, and associates, all gathered to celebrate Lucia's engagement to a Saudi prince.
She stood in the center of the ballroom wearing Valentino, accepting congratulations that felt more like evaluations. Everyone looked at her differently now. Not just Victor's daughter anymore—a princess-to-be, a bridge to royal wealth and Middle Eastern power.
The weight of their expectations was suffocating.
"Speech! Speech!" someone called. Marco, of course. Her brother stood by the bar, champagne glass raised, expression carefully jovial.
Victor nodded at Lucia. She moved to the front of the room and felt a hundred eyes tracking her movement. This was performance, like everything else. She'd been preparing for this her entire life.
"Thank you all for being here," Lucia said, voice steady. "This alliance represents new opportunities for our family. Prince Khalid and I are honored to—"
"Let me," Marco interrupted, stepping forward with his glass. "A toast to my sister, Lucia. Marrying into royalty. Must be nice to finally be more than just our accountant."
The room laughed, but the insult was clear. Just our accountant. As if her Stanford and Oxford degrees, her strategic planning, her careful positioning of the family's interests for a decade—as if all of that was just bookkeeping.
Lucia smiled, the expression empty and perfect. "Marco's right. Numbers are important. They help us understand value. For instance, the value of knowing when to speak and when to stay silent."
More laughter, but this time directed at Marco. His expression darkened slightly before he recovered with a forced smile.
"To Lucia and Prince Khalid," Marco said, raising his glass higher. "May the marriage be everything our family needs."
Our family needs. Not what Lucia needed. Not her happiness or safety. The family's strategic objectives.
After the toast, Lucia moved through the crowd accepting congratulations. Her cousin Sophia appeared at her elbow, elegant in black silk.
"Smooth," Sophia murmured. "You made Marco look like an idiot without even trying."
"He makes himself look like an idiot. I just don't stop him."
"Luce, we need to talk. Privately."
They slipped out to the terrace. Los Angeles spread below them, city lights glittering like scattered diamonds.
"Marco's building alliances," Sophia said quietly. "Uncle Sal, Cousin Tony, some of the Chicago connections. They're angry Papa chose you for the Saudi arrangement instead of letting Marco handle it."
"Marco couldn't negotiate his way out of a parking ticket."
"They don't care about competence. They care about tradition. A man should handle international alliances, not a woman. Especially not a woman who makes them all look stupid." Sophia gripped Lucia's arm. "Be careful. Marco's planning something."
Before Lucia could respond, Victor appeared in the doorway. "Lucia. My office. Now."
Victor's office was all dark wood and leather, built to intimidate. He poured himself whiskey and didn't offer Lucia any.
"The engagement is official," Victor said. "Now the real work begins. I need you in that family, finding weaknesses, identifying who we can turn."
"Papa, I'm marrying Khalid, not infiltrating a military base."
"It's the same thing. Every family has fractures, resentments, and people who can be bought or pressured." Victor leaned against his desk. "Find out who in the royal family we can turn. Who needs money, who has secrets, and who's vulnerable?"
"And if there's no one?"
"There's always someone." His expression hardened. "Every daughter eventually leaves her family, Lucia. I'm just going farther than most."
"You're not leaving. You're expanding our territory. That distinction matters." Victor moved closer. "Get us their oil connections, their government access, and their weaknesses. That's not a request."
Lucia felt cold settle in her stomach. "Understood."
"Good. And Lucia? Marco's jealous. Manage it carefully. Family conflict is bad for business."
After leaving Victor's office, Lucia found Sophia waiting in the hallway.
"What did he want?"
"To remind me I'm a weapon, not a daughter."
"Luce—"
"I'm fine." Lucia headed back to the ballroom. "Let's get through the rest of this circus."
An hour later, a reporter from Los Angeles Magazine cornered Lucia for an interview. Camera crew, microphone, and the woman's bright, professionally sympathetic smile.
"Ms. Marchetti, congratulations on your engagement. Are you nervous about the marriage?"
Lucia considered her answer carefully. Every word would be analyzed, dissected, and used. "I'm nervous about becoming someone I'm not. But maybe that's the point."
"What do you mean?"
"Marriage changes people. You adapt, compromise, and grow. I suppose I'm nervous about which parts of myself I'll keep and which I'll have to let go."
It was more honest than she'd intended. The reporter looked surprised but pleased.
"Prince Khalid is giving an interview right now in Riyadh. Would you like to see?"
They pulled up the live feed on a tablet. Khalid sat in formal dress, answering similar questions in English.
"Are you nervous about the marriage, Your Highness?"
"I'm nervous about becoming someone I'm not," Khalid said, his expression carefully neutral. "But perhaps that's the challenge—discovering which parts of ourselves we keep and which we transform."
Lucia stared at the screen. His words were nearly identical to hers. Not rehearsed—they hadn't discussed this interview. Just... thinking the same way, arriving at the same truth independently.
The reporter noticed her expression. "It seems you and the prince are very much in sync."
"It seems so," Lucia said quietly.
After the interview, she escaped to an empty sitting room and pulled out her phone. Typed a message to Khalid: Did we just give the same interview answer from different continents?
His response came quickly: Apparently. Great minds think alike? Or are we both equally trapped?
"Both," she typed. Definitely both.
Sophia appeared in the doorway. "Luce, we need to talk. Now."
Something in her cousin's voice made Lucia's instincts spike. "What happened?"
"I was in the library. Marco and Uncle Sal didn't know I was there." Sophia's face was pale. "Lucia, Marco told Uncle Sal that when you go to Saudi Arabia, you're not coming back. He's going to make his move while you're gone."
Ice ran through Lucia's veins. "Make his move how?"
"I don't know, but he's planning something. And he thinks with you in Riyadh, he'll have time to consolidate power here before you can stop him."
They see a wedding, Lucia thought, looking out at the party still celebrating her engagement. I see a war on three fronts: against my brother, who wants my throne; against a father who thinks I'm his weapon; and against a husband who might be the only person who could actually hurt me. The question is which battle I fight first.
Her phone buzzed. Text from Khalid: Everything okay? You went quiet.
She typed back: Family complications. Nothing I can't handle.
Want to talk about it?
Not yet. But thank you for asking.
I'm here when you need me.
Lucia looked at the message and felt something tight in her chest. He meant it. Somehow, impossibly, this arranged-marriage prince from Saudi Arabia had become someone she could actually trust.
Which made him either her greatest asset or her most dangerous vulnerability.
She still wasn't sure which.
"What are you going to do?" Sophia asked.
Lucia deleted her messages with Khalid, slipped the phone into her clutch, and turned to face her cousin with the same expression she wore when ordering deaths and moving millions in untraceable money.
"I'm going to get married," she said calmly. "And then I'm going to make sure Marco regrets ever thinking he could take what's mine."
"Luce, he's dangerous."
"So am I." Lucia headed for the door. "The difference is, he's always underestimated me. That's his first mistake."
"What's his second?"
Lucia smiled, the expression cold and empty. "Thinking I'd go to Saudi Arabia without leaving insurance behind."