Chapter 6

Chloe

Every single Capo in the room went rigid. Marco's cigarette nearly dropped from his lip.

"The Devil Prince of Cannaregio?!" Silvio breathed, his face paling.

Even my breath hitched in my chest.

In the underworld of Venice, Cassian Marcello wasn't treated like a Mafia heir—he was treated like the boogeyman.

The stories said he snapped his first neck at ten, butchered an entire rival bloodline down to the hounds at twelve, and had an alchemist freeze his enemies' drained blood into crystallized ruby candies just so he could crunch on them between meetings.

Watching the flicker of shock cross my face, Valentina leaned forward on her chin, dripping with fake sympathy.

"For the sake of our shared blood, Chloe, why don't I just put your name down for Julian Bellini?" Valentina offered softly. "At least in House Bellini, you'll have a warm, safe kennel to grow old in."

"Listen to your sister and say yes!" my mother chimed in immediately, flashing me a tight, rehearsals-ready smile. "Valentina is truly thinking of your well-being!"

I stood between Rocco's guards, staring at their disgusting theater without saying a word.

Valentina's smile thinned, her patience snapping.

"Don't even think about refusing both," Valentina warned, her voice dropping to a lethal hiss. "As long as you breathe with Corvo lungs, you owe this family your utility. You lost the Don's chair, Chloe—if you refuse this marriage, the only other box you're climbing into tomorrow night is a lead coffin!"

My mother's composure cracked into sharp impatience. "Open your mouth and pick Bellini, you stubborn little fool!"

I looked at my mother. Then at my uncle. Then at my sister sitting on the wood my father had polished with his life.

In the span of ten minutes, I had fallen from the heir of San Marco to a slab of meat on the butcher's block.

I let out a long, slow breath.

If they thought I was going to crawl into a velvet kennel and play the obedient little housewife while they danced on my father's grave, they didn't know who raised me.

I lifted my chin, looking Valentina dead in the eye, and smiled.

"I choose the Devil of House Marcello," I said coldly. "Give me Cassian."

Dead silence dropped over the chamber.

Valentina actually blinked, her poise slipping. "What the fuck did you just say?! Are you trying to commit suicide?!"

"Oh, quite the opposite," I drawled, shrugging Rocco's hands off my shoulders and straightening my crumpled blazer. "I simply admire a man with real reach. House Marcello controls half the dark canals and all the heavy forges in Venice."

I tilted my head, letting a slow, predatory smirk curve my mouth.

"Who knows? In a house that actually remembers how to use a blade... I might find the kind of power I need."

Valentina let out a harsh, derisive scoff. "Keep dreaming! Cassian Marcello will have you drained and mounted on his wall before the honeymoon is over!"

"Stupid, suicidal girl!" my mother spat, turning her face away in disgust.

Uncle Matteo just chuckled, tapping his temple. "Leave her be, Eleonora. Watching her father turn to fireworks clearly rotted whatever brains she had left. If she wants the butcher's block, write Marcello on the contract."

I didn't waste another syllable on them.

Turning toward the heavy oak doors, I paused and swept one last, freezing gaze over the thirty men sitting around the table.

"If there's nothing else, I'll excuse myself," I said smoothly. "After all, since I am now the prized sacrificial lamb keeping a room full of spineless, gutless cowards breathing for another week... I really should go get my beauty sleep before the wedding."

"Why, you arrogant little—!" Marco lunged half out of his chair, the table erupting into furious curses behind me.

I didn't look back. I kicked the double doors open and strode out into the cold marble corridor.

I had barely made it halfway down the grand gallery when hurried, shuffling footsteps echoed behind me.

"Signorina Chloe! Wait!"

I stopped by a tall arched window overlooking the dark canal as old Cesare caught up to me, his chest heaving beneath his butler's tailcoat and his wrinkled eyes full of heartbreak.

"Madonna mia, Signorina..." Cesare whispered, bowing his gray head. "What a nightmare tonight has been. First the Don is taken from us, and now those vipers turn you into a bargaining chip... My heart is breaking for you."

I looked out through the glass at the bone-white moon reflecting on the black water, letting the last of my anger settle into something sharp and bottomless.

"Save your tears, Cesare," I said quietly. "In this city, a bargaining chip is just a bullet they haven't loaded into the chamber yet. Who knows? I might still have a move left on the board."

Cesare lifted his head, staring at the side of my face in stunned silence for a beat.

Then, slowly, the old butler's trembling posture straightened.

"God in heaven..." Cesare breathed, a fierce, ancient reverence lighting up his eyes. "Standing there like that, Signorina, you are the spitting image of your father forty years ago, the night his first fleet was burned to the waterline."

He took a step closer, bowing low from the waist.

"My life belonged to Don Lorenzo, and tonight it belongs to you. Whatever you need done, Signorina—just give this old dog the word."

I turned from the window, a cold, razor-thin smile touching my lips.

"Good," I murmured, leaning in toward his ear. "Because before I put on a wedding dress tomorrow night, Cesare... I have a very important errand for you to run."