Page 41 of Claimed Through Deception

I push the brass handle down and slip inside.

The library is vast, smelling of old paper, leather bindings, and cold dust. The large bay windows let in flashes of lightning, briefly illuminating the towering bookshelves before throwing the room back into darkness.

I sink to the floor between two massive mahogany shelves. I wrap my arms around my knees, pulling them tight against my chest, and bury my face in my legs.

My lungs refuse to expand. I am drowning in the memory of the rain, the flashing police lights, the terrifying realization that my survival was always tied to the violent whims of men I couldn't control. First my father. Now Niccolò. I am trapped in an endless, suffocating loop of monsters.

I shake violently. A ragged sob rips out of my throat, tearing the silence in half. I press my hands tight over my ears to block out the booming thunder, but it doesn't help. The storm is inside my head.

A soft, golden light spills across the Persian rug. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself. I expect the harsh reprimand. I expect Marta to bark at me to get back to my quarters.

"Livia."

The voice is a low, rough rumble.

I lift my head. Niccolò stands a few feet away, holding a thick, white pillar candle. The flickering flame casts long, dancing shadows across his face. He isn't wearing his suit jacket. His white shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, exposing the dark ink of his tattoos.

He looks at my face. He sees the panic, the wet tears staining my cheeks, the erratic, desperate heave of my chest. He sets the candle on a nearby side table, then lowers his towering frame to the floor. He sits on the rug right beside me, folding his long legs, bringing himself down to my level.

"Come here," he murmurs softly.

I am too far gone to fight him. The panic is blurring the lines between my hatred and my desperate need for an anchor. I uncurl my legs and practically crawl the two feet separating us.

Niccolò opens his arms and simply wraps his strong, warm arms around my shaking body and pulls me gently into his lap. He tucks my head against his chest, folding me into his heat.

"Breathe," he instructs. It is the exact word I used on him in the office, spoken with the same steady cadence.

His large hand strokes the back of my hair.

"I can't," I choke out, my fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his shirt.

"You can," he replies, his deep voice sending a soothing shockwave through my bones. "Feel my chest. Match it."

I close my eyes. I focus on the steady, powerful thud of his heart beneath his ribs. I focus on the familiar scent of bergamot, the smell of clean linen, and his muscles. He feels like a fortress.

Outside, the thunder crashes again, shaking the glass panes. I flinch, burying my face deeper into the crook of his neck.

His arms tighten around me, a shield against the dark.

"I have you," he whispers into my hair. "Nothing touches you in this house. You are safe."

And yes, I do feel safe in the hands of the monster.

14

Niccolò

Blood coats my left side. It is thick, warm, and sticky, gluing the ruined fabric of my dress shirt to my ribs.

The Falco family did not wait for me to officially sever the engagement. They caught the scent of my hesitation. They realized Caterina was no longer guaranteed a crown. A routine meeting at the docks turned into a slaughterhouse. Three of my men are dead. Two of theirs are in pieces. I killed the man who slipped a six-inch hunting knife under my guard, but the blade did its job. It carved a deep, jagged line across my ribcage.

Every breath is a sharp spike of agony.

I pull the armored SUV into the hidden underground garage of the estate. I drove myself. I left Alessio and Enzo at the harbor to clean up the mess and dump the bodies into the bay.

The engine cuts off. I open the door and step out, my boots hit the cement with a heavy thud. I reach into the back seat and grab a black leather medical kit.

I should call Dr. Evans. Protocol demands I let the professionals stitch the torn flesh. I should follow the rules I enforce on my men.