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Now I’m going to do all I can to protect her, to clean up Chiara’s mess and keep Aria safe. It won’t be easy, but protecting Aria is all that matters. Aria is mine. Completely, utterly mine.

D’Angelo will learn that lesson. So will she.

I straighten my tie and collect my papers. It’s time to go home to my wife. Time to remind her exactly what it means to belong to Marco Bianchi.

When I get back home, I want no more secrets between us, between husband and wife. I want proper answers to know whyshe put herself in danger like this. I need to know why she risked it all for her sister, so I can be prepared for when the time comes.

13

ARIA

The house is too quiet. I stand at the living room window, staring out over Marco’s immaculate gardens. He told me I was free to explore, called it “ours” before leaving for work. But nothing about this place feels like mine. It feels like a gilded cage.

Marco knows the truth now. He knows I’m not Chiara. And yet, he wants to stay married. I don’t know what I was thinking when I walked down that aisle, but somewhere in my heart, I believed my future would be mine. Now, I realize, it’ll always include him, and I don’t know what to make of it.

The manicured gardens stretch out below, beautiful and impeccable, but I find it hard to see beauty in them. I keep twirling the unfamiliar ring on my finger, keep thinking of the punishment he delivered last night. I should have begged, should have said no, but the fact that I wanted it makes this situation even more terrifying.

We’re husband and wife now. What the hell does that mean for me? What does he expect? Love? Desire, he already won.

As the sun sets over the lawns, my stomach tightens. He’ll be home soon. What will he do? Yesterday, when he discoveredI wasn’t Chiara, there had been a moment, just a flicker, when I thought he might kill me. His green eyes had turned to ice, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscles straining. But then something shifted, and he didn’t lay a finger on me.

Not in the way I expected.

Marco Bianchi is truly a mystery to me, and that makes him, and this situation, harder to control.

Just then, I hear the front door. I hear heavy footsteps coming my way and straighten my spine, smooth down my dress, hoping to seem confident. It doesn’t work. My heart hammers against my ribs as the footsteps approach, and I turn to see him at the doorway.

“Marco,” I say, hating how my voice trembles. “How was your day?”

He doesn’t respond, and I reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. For some reason, I hate that I didn’t get a chance to look in the mirror before he saw me.

He fills the doorway, tall and imposing in his perfectly tailored suit. His black hair falls over his forehead, slightly mussed as if he’s been running his hands through it. And he is angry. I can see it in the tight line of his mouth, in the controlled stillness of his body.

I try again. “I thought maybe we could talk about?—”

He crosses the room in three long strides. I back up until I hit the window, the cool glass pressing against my shoulder blades. He doesn’t touch me, just leans down until his face is inches from mine.

“Why?” The single word drops between us like a stone.

I swallow hard. “I’ve already told you.”

His hand shoots out, fingers gripping my chin firmly but not painfully. “Don’t lie to me. Not anymore.” His voice is soft, which somehow makes it more terrifying. “Why did you pretend to beChiara? Why did you agree to marry me in her place? Is there something you’re still not telling me?”

His presence scrambles my thoughts. I try to look away, but when he brushes his thumb against my chin, I gasp at the heat pooling inside me—and force myself to meet his gaze.

“The truth isn’t much different from what you know. She was afraid—terrified of you, of this arrangement.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Surprise, maybe, or doubt. “And you weren’t?”

A humorless laugh escapes me. “I was. But Chiara… she’s always protected me. All our lives. It was my turn.”

He releases my chin, but doesn’t step back. “So you walked into the lion’s den for her. Brave. Stupid, but brave.”

I rub my chin, though he hadn’t hurt me.

“It was the right thing to do,” I insist.

“It doesn’t matter now,” he says, his eyes flickering between mine. “People don’t realize you exist, Aria. Chiara never let her debtors learn about you. Now, she’s run off, and very troublesome people have mistaken you for your sister.Which means, little liar, that you’ve put yourself in considerable danger.”