Three Years of Loving You, Now I Choose the Empire

I loved Marco De Luca fiercely for three years. I didn't care that he had come to the Vittori family for my half sister Isabella. Nor did I care that he hid his identity as heir to a rival family and lied to me by posing as a bodyguard. That lasted until Christmas Eve. My whip brushed Isabella, a single frightened tear slipped down her cheek, and Marco had people take savage revenge on me, leaving ninety-nine lash marks across my back. That was when I finally gave up on him. I went to my father myself and said I would marry the comatose Castellano son in New York in Isabella's place. Two weeks later I cut every line of contact with Marco and flew to New York. But on my wedding day, Marco De Luca, now the Don, forced his way into the ceremony with ninety-nine lash wounds of his own, begging me in tears not to marry. Chapter 1 "Father, I'm willing to marry the Castellano family's comatose son in Isabella's place." My father was stunned. "You've come to your senses? You're not waiting for that bodyguard of yours to change his mind?" I pushed my hair back and gave a cold smile. "Isn't his heart set on that illegitimate girl, just like yours? I'm giving all of you what you want." I had hit the mark, and his face went ugly. "Name your terms." I held up one finger. "Ten billion." The person across from me slammed the table hard. "Are you out of your mind?" "I'm not negotiating with you. The day the money lands is the day I go. Otherwise, push your precious illegitimate girl out there instead." He thought about it for a moment and stubbed out his cigar. "Two weeks. I'll make the transfer. But you don't get to change your mind, even if Marco..." "Don't worry. Once a person's heart turns, there’s no going back. Just like yours did with my mother." With that, I turned and left the study. Marco was the bodyguard I had loved for three years, cold and restrained, and I had believed that one day I would win his heart. Then, two nights ago, passing his room, I heard him saying Isabella's name in a voice thick with wanting. The door wasn't shut all the way, and through the gap I saw it. He was getting himself off to a photograph of Isabella! Before that I had half believed he simply had no appetite for any of it. No matter how I tried to get close, he never reacted. And the more he held back, the more I took him for a man of restraint and single-minded loyalty. Three years ago, while selecting a bodyguard, I picked him out at a glance. A discard the De Luca family had let go. He stood nearly six foot three, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, but his gaze was cold and distant whenever it fell on me. There was no man in Chicago who wasn't interested in me. And he was the one who set every bit of my appetite alight. So I hired him over everyone's objections. At first I only wanted somebody to toy with. But I had been alone for so long after my mother died in childbirth, and once Marco was there for everything I did, teasing him turned into wanting him. And in three years, he had never so much as batted an eye at me. I used to think he was like that with everyone. It wasn't until that night that I understood everything. I couldn't keep watching it. As I turned to go, he took a call. A man's voice on the other end was just audible. "How's it going on your end? The Don says don't hold up real business over a woman." Marco's voice went cool again. "I know what I'm doing." "Sure you do. The De Luca heir playing bodyguard just so he can see her sister every day, and you know what you're doing?" Marco laughed once. "I looked into it. Isabella was born out of wedlock, so she's never felt safe. Coming at her directly would frighten her. Working my way in through her sister is steadier." "I hear the older Vittori daughter is awfully keen on you. She's one of Chicago's great beauties. You've really never been tempted?" The room went quiet for a beat. "Not interested. She isn't worth a single hair on Isabella's head." Each word stabbed into my heart like a knife, and that night I all but fled the place. The heir to the De Luca family, three years as a bodyguard at my side, all for an illegitimate girl who couldn't match me in anything and could only cry. It was absurd. My fingers dug into my palm. Fine. I would take back every bit of my love. I took out my phone and called my grandfather's private encrypted line. After my mother died he kept trying to take me away, and every time my father stopped him with the same excuse: "A Vittori child must grow up in the Vittori house." The line rang twice. "Ariana?" "Grandfather." My throat closed up. "I've agreed to the marriage my father arranged. I go to New York in two weeks." "Sweetheart, Albert still shows no sign of waking." He sighed. "What can we do for you?" "It doesn't matter if he never wakes," I said. "I need a lawyer to draw up a prenup that lets me take over the trust as his wife. And..." I hesitated. "Before I go, I want to buy back my mother's blue diamond necklace at tomorrow's Christie's sale." "Good girl." He agreed at once. "Ariana, you're our treasure. The Langdons aren't just your mother's family. We're the family you can rely on." "I know, Grandfather." I smiled. "Good night." Chapter 2 Evening sales at Christie's have always been theaters for power games. Every paddle raised stood for the convergence of wealth, connections, and family prestige. I sat in the third row with Marco De Luca standing behind me. My father hadn't reassigned him yet. He was still my personal bodyguard. My mother's blue diamond necklace, the one my father took years ago to cover a debt, was sitting in the auction house vault as Lot 047, waiting to go under the hammer. As the auctioneer brought down the first hammer, I noticed two people come in through the side door. One of them was Isabella Vittori. She had her head tilted as she talked to her companion, and from the moment she appeared, my personal bodyguard's attention stayed fixed on her. He seemed to have forgotten he was working. I closed my hand into a fist and looked away. "Next is Lot 047, a Victorian blue diamond necklace. Opening at eight million dollars." I lifted my paddle. "Nine million." "Ten million." A sweet, soft voice came from behind me. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. "What a coincidence, Ariana." Isabella pitched it loud enough for several rows to hear. "I love this necklace too." I ignored her and raised my paddle again. "Twelve million." "Fifteen million." Isabella came straight back, and beside her Marco watched with the hint of a smile. I heard the whispering start to spread around me. The two Vittori daughters fighting over the same necklace at auction. That kind of gossip is more exciting than the lot itself. The necklace was the only thing my mother left me. I was taking it out of that room no matter what. I raised my paddle again. "Twenty million." "Twenty-three million." Isabella bid right behind me, then clapped a hand over her mouth as though something had just dawned on her. "Ariana, the family's dock project just ran into trouble and you only filled the shortfall with your own money. Isn't going higher a bit of a stretch?" I gave her a hard look. She had actually worked out how much I had. And she was right. After covering that shortfall, I had only thirty million in liquid funds left. But my mother's necklace was not something I could give up. I took a breath. "Thirty million." Isabella's face stiffened, and she still played it innocent. "If you like to fight for things, I'll humor you one more time. Thirty-two million." I set my teeth and made a call. "Redeem the short-term notes. Move everything into the Christie's deposit account." I lifted my paddle again. "Thirty-five million." Isabella raised an eyebrow and did not bid again. Just as the hammer was about to fall, a man in a gray suit walked up to the auctioneer and handed over a document. The auctioneer announced, "An anonymous principal has granted Miss Isabella Vittori unlimited bidding authority. Every subsequent bid on Lot 047 will be matched automatically." Every eye in the room went to Isabella. She looked surprised at first, and then couldn't hide how pleased she was. "I'm so sorry, Ariana. It looks like this necklace was always going to be mine." I turned and looked at Marco. He was still standing behind me as my bodyguard, his expression otherwise unchanged, but with the hint of a smile on his lips. The hammer came down at last. I watched my mother's necklace go into Isabella's hands. She came over to me, all innocence. "Thank you for yielding it to me, Ariana." Then she turned to her secretary. "Put it away. Send it to storage." She didn't like the necklace. She only wanted to take something of mine. My fist closed, and I wanted very badly to drive it into her face. Marco said, with perfect deference, "Miss Vittori, the car is waiting." I looked up at him and made my meaning plain. "An unlimited guarantee from De Luca Group. That young man does nothing by halves." His pupils contracted. "Yes... I feel sorry for you as well." I gave a cold laugh and went around him. "You don't need to follow me. I want to be alone." As I walked out of the auction house, my phone finally showed the transfer had cleared. Mom, I'm sorry I couldn't keep your necklace. Over the next few days I started settling everything I had to settle before I left. The lawyer my grandfather engaged sent encrypted files, my contact in New York confirmed when I would be received, and on the seventh day the ten billion dollars finally landed. That night the butler knocked on my door with a dark red backless gown. Chapter 3 "Miss Vittori, the boss says you're required at tomorrow night's dinner. His exact words were: 'She took my money, and she will fulfill every last family obligation before she leaves. After that meal, she can go wherever she likes.'" Falling back on the family again. "Send me the address. Tell him this is the last time I entertain anyone for him." The next evening, at a private club in Lower Manhattan, the dinner the Vittori family was hosting was billed as business and was really a quiet negotiation among the Five Families over territory. My job that night was simply to show up, make an appearance, dine, and then leave. My father was in a booth with the Colombo underboss discussing the redistribution of the docks, all smiles, as though he weren't the one whose shipment had been taken. Isabella was being pestered by Anthony, the Colombo family's youngest son. She laughed and pointed at me. "My sister is the face of the Vittoris. Anthony should be buying her a drink." Anthony's father was in the middle of the dock talks with mine. He was betting I wouldn't dare embarrass both families at a moment like this, and sure enough, he approached me with a glass in his hand. Marco didn't follow me. He stayed at Isabella's side, fending off the guests who drew near to her, every protective instinct he had aimed at her alone. Anthony used the pretext of talking business to block my way, and when I didn't turn on him, his hand slid onto my waist. I called him by his full name, my voice cold. "Marco De Luca. Come here." Only then did Marco come back from Isabella's side. He gave Anthony one cold look, and Anthony took his hand back at once and retreated with his drink. "Anyone who didn't know better would think you were Isabella's bodyguard." I brushed off the spot he had touched in disgust. "Get it straight. Right now you are still my personal bodyguard." He lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't see it." "From that close, you didn't see it?" I curved my lips and leaned in suddenly, my red lips nearly brushing his jaw. "Are your eyes broken, or do you just not want to look?" I watched his throat move, and then he took half a step back. "Miss Vittori, you've had too much to drink." I drained my champagne. "I'm getting some air. Come with me." The wind on the terrace was cool. I crooked a finger at Marco. "Jacket." He hesitated, then took off his suit jacket and put it over my shoulders. Just then a burst of shrieking and the snarl of a dog came from the ballroom. The side door had been knocked open at some point, and a huge hunting dog had come charging in. Several Colombo bodyguards scrambled in a panic, trying to get it under control. It was a vicious hunting dog the Colombos had brought! Something had gone wrong. It had slipped its restraint and was tearing through the ballroom out of control. The Colombo underboss went green in the face. The dog knocked over a row of chairs and came straight for the terrace entrance. Isabella was walking over with a glass in her hand. Marco pulled Isabella behind him with one hand and shoved me hard in the shoulder with the other. I stumbled out through the terrace entrance, fully exposed in the dog's line of sight. It changed direction at once and sprang at me. I screamed, but there was no time. Hot, rank breath was already washing over my face. Its fangs were less than half an arm's length from my throat when a shot cut through the ballroom. The bullet went through the dog's skull. It slammed down at my feet. Before I could get one breath, its falling body knocked over the champagne tower beside me, and rows of glasses came down from above. "Help..." Isabella's frail little voice forced its way out of her throat again. Marco tore the jacket off my shoulders and threw it over Isabella, then used his own body to shield her head and face. I went down flat on my back into broken glass. Sharp glass pierced my arms, calves, and back, and warm blood quickly soaked through my skirt. I was in too much pain to get up. Marco had already carried Isabella to the emergency exit and was bent over checking whether she was hurt. He never looked back at me once. The lights in front of me broke apart, and I went under. When I came around again, a thousand stinging pains swept over my body. I saw Isabella bury her face against Marco's shoulder, sobbing as if her mother had died. "You're my sister's bodyguard. Why did you protect me? It's all my fault. If it weren't for me she wouldn't be hurt." "Don't blame yourself, Miss Isabella." Marco wiped her tears away with his fingertips. "If it happened a hundred more times, I'd still choose to save you." "Why?" Isabella looked up through her tears. Marco looked at her, and something soft came into his eyes. "Because I lo..." I said, flatly, "This is a hospital room. If the two of you have private things to say, take them elsewhere and let me rest." Isabella jerked back out of Marco's arms. "You're awake!" She rushed to my bedside, tears springing up on command. "How do you feel? Does it still hurt? It's all my fault..." I looked at her, my voice completely flat. "If you know it was your fault, put your tears away. Nobody here enjoys the performance." She went white, gave Marco a tearful look, and ran out. He started after her without thinking, forced himself to stop, and turned back to explain. "Miss Vittori, it was an emergency. I didn't have time to react." "I don't think you need me to remind you who employs you." I settled back into the pillow, my voice even. "If you can't even keep your own job straight, there's no reason to stay here. Get out." For three whole days after that he stood outside my room like a conscientious bodyguard, and I never said another word to him. The day I was discharged and got back to the house, the butler handed me a transfer order. I signed in the approval box. From that moment Marco De Luca was formally reassigned as Isabella Vittori's bodyguard. "One more thing. The boss says Marco failed to protect his principal, but he did protect Isabella, so he wants the matter dropped." Of course. The one he protected was the daughter my father loves more. And that was exactly why I wouldn't let it go. "Send Marco to me." Chapter 4 The wounds still ached faintly. I took a glossy black riding whip out of the cabinet, the one I'd watched my father use to lash men who failed him until their skin split open. Marco pushed the door open while I was standing at the window wiping it down. "Miss Vittori." "A bodyguard's core duty is absolute loyalty. You know that." "I know." "Abandoning your principal to protect another counts as the gravest betrayal, no matter the reason. You're clear on that too?" I lifted my eyes to him. "Twenty lashes. Any objection?" Marco De Luca's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly. He was next in line to become Don of Chicago's De Luca family, a man people fell over themselves to court. Who would dare lay a finger on him? But he knew what a traitor faced. Twenty lashes was lenient. In the end he said, "No." "Kneel." His whole body pulled tight, and then one knee came down, and then the other. I looked down at him and suddenly found it ironic. For the chance to stay, for Isabella Vittori, he would even kneel to me. At the first lash his back arched hard and snapped straight again. Then the second, the third... The study door flew open and Isabella threw herself in front of Marco with her arms out. "Hit me if you need to take it out on somebody! This has nothing to do with him!" "Get out." I pointed the whip at the door. "I won't!" Isabella was weeping prettily. "I'm the reason you got hurt. Punish me instead." Marco reached to pull her away, and she planted herself in front of him and would not move. I looked at that tear-streaked face and the anger in my chest nearly burned through what sense I had left. Every time it was the same. Play the victim, take the blow, steal the scene, and then go right out and spread word that her sister had lost her mind and resorted to violence. I had just raised the whip when Marco clamped a hand around my wrist. "Enough." He put Isabella behind him, and his eyes were frighteningly cold. "She isn't your subordinate. You have no right to touch her." "Let go." He didn't move. He warned me instead, one word at a time. "If that lash lands on her, you will regret it." In that moment I had no intention of hurting her. But no one got to threaten me. "Then watch closely." I threw his hand off and deliberately let the tip of the whip pass along Isabella's side. It never even touched the hem of her dress, and she leaned half a step into it anyway, then shrieked and dropped to the floor, clutching a shoulder with no mark on it and starting to sob. "I know you hate me, Ariana, but I'm so frightened..." Marco bent down at once and gathered her against him, then turned a furious glare on me. What a joke. Anyone could tell at a glance that she wasn't hurt, yet his gaze toward me held nothing but murderous intent. He lifted her, still crying, and said coldly before he went, "Ariana, you'll pay for today." Their footsteps faded. Only then did I uncurl my stiff fingers, letting the whip fall to the floor. Chapter 5 At eleven that night I drove out to the old house on Long Island alone to look for my mother's things. On the way back, a dark gray SUV shot out of the shadows and cut me off. Two men in black tactical vests pulled my door open and clamped a hand over my mouth and nose. A sharp chemical odor flooded my nostrils. I struggled twice before losing consciousness. When I woke it was pitch black. They had blindfolded me and tied me to a metal chair, hands and feet bound, so I couldn't move at all. Crack! At the first lash my whole body arched and I bit through my lip to swallow the scream. "You crossed the wrong person." The voice of the one holding the whip seemed to come from far away. Crack! Crack! Crack! The whip came down like rain, every stroke cutting the air. I lost count of how many. The wounds from the dinner hadn't healed, and new wounds tore open over old ones, the pain of split skin running from my spine to my fingertips. I bit down on my lip and kept the scream in. Who was it? The voice was run through a modulator, but only my father and Marco knew I had gone out to the old house alone tonight. The whipping went on a long time, long enough that my mind was starting to go before it finally stopped. Then came the sound of a call connecting. "Sir, everything you ordered is done," a voice said respectfully. A familiar man's voice came through the phone. "Good. Take her back." That one line froze the blood in my body. I knew that voice far too well. It was Marco. It was almost light by the time they dumped me at the front of the house. The butler screamed when he found me. The back of my shirt was glued to my skin with blood, and the family doctor needed three doses of anesthetic to numb the pain while he cleaned and stitched the wounds. The nurse said quietly, "From the shoulder blade to the waist. Ninety-nine." Over a single tear from Isabella, he had ordered men to lash me ninety-nine times in return. Lying facedown against the pillows, I saw Marco's car pull in downstairs. He got out of the driver's seat, looked up once at my window, and then walked straight toward Isabella's wing. I closed my eyes. That night I called my grandfather again. "Grandfather, I want to fly to New York as soon as possible." "All right. I'll arrange it." He paused. "Has something happened?" "I'm fine, Grandfather." My tears nearly spilled over. "I just want to get out of here as fast as I can." By the third day, though my wounds still hadn't fully healed, my grandfather had arranged the flight and the movers, and I started going through my things. While I was directing the workers loading the car, Marco came back. "Miss Vittori, what is this?" He frowned at the boxes all over the ground. "Moving." I leaned against my car and watched the workers going back and forth. "Moving where?" "You don't need to come along this time." I shifted my gaze to him. "As of today you're no longer my personal bodyguard." He froze, and his eyes stayed on my face for several seconds, as if he were waiting for me to explain. Just then the movers told me everything was packed. I nodded, opened the car door, slid into the driver's seat, and started the engine. His brow moved, and his lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to ask something. But I had no intention of giving him the chance. Before I stepped on the gas, I lowered the window and told him with a smile, "Congratulations on getting what you wanted, Mr. De Luca. You belong to Isabella Vittori now." Three hours later the private jet landed at JFK. A silver-haired butler had been waiting and bowed. "Miss Vittori, we've collected your luggage and someone will unpack for you shortly. And if you'd like, you may visit the young master at the hospital today." I nodded, snapped my SIM card in half and dropped it in a bin on the curb, then got in the car. "The hospital, please." Outside the window, the New York skyline opened out slowly in the morning sun. I looked at the shapes of those towers and leaned back against the seat. The wounds on my back had started to scab, with new skin already forming. And I was about to have a new life of my own.