Page 114 of Broken Crown

I swallowed, feeling the press of his fingers against my skin as I did so, his grip neither painful nor gentle, merely…present. A reminder.

"I hope you know that, sweetheart. With me, you will always be safe and well cared for."

Safe and well cared for.

The promises you made to a pet.

His fingers tightened, not enough to restrict my breathing, but enough to remind me of his ability to do so. The pad of his thumb found my racing pulse and pressed gently, deliberately.

I inhaled and held it. Locked my knees to keep them from buckling in fear.

After a moment, he released my throat.

I shivered, the sudden absence of his touch leaving me cold despite the warmth of the room.

He swept his hand over my hip to wrap his arm around my waist. "You're cold. Let me warm you."

He led me down one of the palazzo's many galleries into a wing I had not explored yet. Two servants wearing the customary black suit with the gold Diamanti embroidered emblem over their heart moved to open a pair of doors.

The moment the doors swept open, I gasped.

Sebastian guided me over the threshold into a breathtaking Belle Époque ballroom.

The space was immense and ethereal, as if someone had captured dawn's first light and crystallized it into architectural form. Towering marble columns soared upward, their Corinthian capitals gilded in gold that caught the light from massive crystal chandeliers suspended from a ceiling painted with scenes of classical gods and goddesses frolicking among the clouds in a bright azure sky.

A parquet floor made of alternating woods created an intricate geometric pattern beneath our feet, so polished it reflected our movements. The walls were paneled in pale-blue silk damask, embellished with ornate white and gold moldings that twisted and curved. Enormous arched windows stretched from floor to ceiling along one wall, their voile curtains billowing gently in a breeze I couldn't feel.

Between the windows, antique mirrors in gilded frames doubled the already vast space, creating an illusion of infinity. In their depths, I caught fractured glimpses of myself and Sebastian, like actors in a play staged across multiple dimensions.

The pale ivory of my dress and the diamonds at my throat glimmered with each step, while Sebastian's dark form remained solid and constant beside me.

Ornate sconces in the shape of Cupid holding a flaming torch lined the walls, their soft golden light casting intimate pools of illumination across the room.

At the far end, a marble balustrade overlooked a hidden courtyard garden, hinted at through open French doors that allowed the night air to mingle with the warmth inside.

As if that wasn't enough, so many winter flowers decorated the ballroom that they perfumed the air.

During my fashion-styling years, I'd studied the Victorian language of flowers extensively for thematic shoots, and the blooms surrounding us now spoke volumes.

Towering arrangements of pristine white roses stood sentinel at each column, their perfect petals symbolizing a heart unacquainted with love—or a heart too pure for this world.

In the floral world, white roses weren't about innocence as most believed, but about souls that had never been touched by passion.

I nearly laughed at the irony, given what Sebastian had awakened in me.

Around the edges of the room, glossy-leaved holly branches created a verdant border, their bright-red berries like drops of blood against the dark green. Holly, I remembered, represented foresight—the ability to see the future.

Did Sebastian know what the future held for us?

Was this display a warning or a promise?

Most telling of all were the camellias.

White and perfect, they were tucked into every arrangement, their waxy petals gleaming in the golden light.

My breath caught as I recognized their message: my destiny is in your hands.

Whether Sebastian had chosen them deliberately or whether it was a cruel coincidence, the message was unmistakable.