10. Ginevra

CHAPTER 10

Ginevra

“ W hat do you think you’re doing here?” Father’s voice booms in the hallway outside my door, jolting me awake.

“Just following orders, sir. We’ll be in and out as quickly as possible.” An unfamiliar female voice answers him and I roll out of bed to see what is going on.

As soon as I open my door, no less than seven people swarm my room and immediately start packing up my belongings. I stare at them in shock, unable to utter a single coherent word.

“Did you know the movers were coming today?” Papa demands, annoyance written across his features.

Movers?

“I…”

“Answer me, girl.”

“Honey,” Mama enters my room, stepping around Papa. “Are you really moving in with Mr. Baron? Already? Isn’t this too soon?”

My brain finally wakes up the rest of the way and I puzzle the pieces together. He warned me that my actions would have consequences last night. What I didn’t know then was that by stealing that Hermes scarf, he’d up my move in date—to today, apparently.

My fists curl in outrage, but I release them, taking in a deep, steadying breath. I have to uphold my part of our deal—even if I don’t like it. There’s no way I’m going to jail over a trinket.

“I’m so sorry, Mama. I forgot to mention it. Yeah, I’m moving to Blake’s brownstone today. I must have gotten the date wrong, I thought it was next week.” I caress my mama’s arm to reassure her and flash her a smile.

“Empty-headed, girl, you’ll never learn,” Father mutters and sees himself out.

Ignoring him, Mama holds me at arms distance, searching my face. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? Moving in with someone is a huge leap forward. I wish you were at least engaged before doing this.”

Don’t worry, I will be in a matter of weeks . My stomach sinks.

“I’m ready. Besides, I need to get out of here. Now that Sophia and Arianna are both gone, you know how Papa and I grate on each other’s nerves.”

Mama huffs. “That’s no reason to move out.”

“It’s not my only reason. I promise.”

Mama doesn’t know the half of what goes on with me and Papa. She doesn’t realize how much he hates me, and how living here, under his roof, is suffocating.

“Do you love him?” She abruptly asks.

I blink at her. “Who? Papa?”

“Blake Baron.” Her lips thin as she states his name. “You know what he did to our friends, the Marinos. You know his reputation. They don’t call him The Black Baron for nothing, sweetie. I just want to make sure you want to be with him, and that you haven’t gotten mixed up in something you shouldn’t be.”

I swallow hard. “It’s nothing like that.” I plaster a smile on my face. “I love him. He’s the one for me. This has been slowly building between us for years, it’s only recently that we both realized our feelings for each other.”

Mama scrutinizes me for a moment, and I desperately try not to squirm. I’m outright lying to my own mother, right to her face. All because I don’t want to go to prison. Does that make me a terrible person?

I’m not usually one to ask for forgiveness, but God above, please forgive this sin. The same sin I’ll have to repeat to convince my sisters that my relationship with Blake is real.

Shit. I didn’t expect this to be so hard.

“If you say so, sweetie.” Mama pulls me in for a hug. I briefly close my eyes and soak in her warm embrace, drawing on her strength. She’s never gone easy on me, but I know without a doubt that she loves me.

Pulling back, we watch the movers make quick work of my bedroom. They’re like an army of ants who’ve descended on a dead beetle.

“You’d better get dressed before they pack up all of your clothes and you have to wear this nightgown all day.” Mama lets me go, and I grab an outfit from a still open box, then hurry to my bathroom to change.

As soon as the door closes behind me, my wrath returns. So Blake thinks he can just order his people to come in here and upend my life? Well, he has another think coming. Yes, think , because despite my best efforts, some of that proper English those tutors rammed down my throat growing up actually stuck with me.

And I’m going to make sure Blake knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he cannot do whatever he wants with my life. I have boundaries—and he just crossed them. Actually, he bulldozed right through them. Which is not okay.

After I’m dressed, have run a brush through my hair and a toothbrush over my teeth, I grab my phone and head out. I need to get to Blake’s place before the movers do so I can direct them. I give my family’s driver the address and settle into the back seat.

My cell chimes and I glance at the screen. Two messages from my ex, Oliver, sit unread. I have no intention of interacting with him, so I darken the screen.

Then… my curiosity gets the better of me—or maybe it’s my anxiety that spurs me to do it, just to make sure things haven’t gotten worse, but I read his texts.

Oliver

Hey baby, I’m sorry for what I texted the other night, I was drunk. You know I love you. We can’t end like this.

Oliver

I’m begging you. Please.

I sigh, dragging my fingers through my barely tamed curls. Oliver runs hot and cold, mean and nice, like this enough that it leaves me second guessing myself. Which version is really him?

He was great the first few months we were together. We had a ton of fun. I even introduced him to my family. My first long-term boyfriend—first actual boyfriend, instead of a one night stand. I thought I was finally on the right track with my love life, but then… He started acting differently. Just little things at first, a cutting comment, pushing me to do something I didn’t like, always wanting to know where I was when we weren’t together.

Then he started to get violent during sex. He’d call me a slut and a whore, and slap me around. I’d break up with him. He’d come crawling back, apologize, and stupidly, I believed him. The final straw for me was when he made that video of us. That video…

Bile rises up and I quickly swallow it back down. I can’t think about that right now. I have more immediate problems.

The crazy thing is, I half expected Oliver to use that video to blackmail me. Instead, I’m getting blackmailed over a trinket. Yeah, I never saw Mr. Baron coming, that’s for sure.

When I arrive at his brownstone, he’s not home, but the housekeeper lets me in.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” I ask her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t. He doesn’t keep a regular schedule, so I can’t say for sure. However, he did leave us all instructions for moving you in. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to your room and give you a tour of the house.”

“I’d like to see my room, please.”

“Yes, miss. This way.”

We climb the staircase to the second floor. All the way at the end of the hall, she opens a door and steps aside. “You’re in here, Miss Pontrelli.”

One glance at the bedroom and my heart stutters. Maybe it’s the scent of his cologne drifting through the air and the sight of his clothes hanging in a small walk-in closet that has me on pins and needles.

“This is Blake’s room,” I blurt.

“Yes, I know.” She gives me a confused look. “Were you expecting something else?”

“I, uh…” Shit. How am I going to explain this? “We’re not even engaged yet, so I thought I’d be staying in a guest room.”

“Oh.” Her brows draw together. “I don’t think Mr. Baron’s concerned about that sort of propriety. He specifically left instructions to put your things in his bedroom. I’m afraid you’ll have to take it up with him, but until then…” She shrugs.

Until then, there’s nothing I can do about it.

Just as I turn to follow her on a tour of the house, the movers arrive and start bringing all of my worldly belongings into Blake’s room. This is really happening.

Shit, shit, shit.

My whole life is moving under his roof, into his domain, and I know for a fact that he’s going to try to control every bit of it—of me. For the next fourteen months, I’m his puppet. His to do with as he wants.

Why the fuck did I agree to this? I must have been insane.

My new reality sinks beneath my skin, grows claws, and scrapes at my pounding heart. All I’ve ever wanted was freedom, and now I’m more trapped than ever. This is a nightmare.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” I turn on my heel and literally run out of the house.

A s I sway my body, the beat hammers deep into my bones, pulsating and pounding. It’s around ten in the evening on a weeknight, but Riot is packed with writhing, sweaty bodies on the dance floor. My head spins as I undulate up against the solid walls of muscle around me. I’ve been dancing for hours, I can tell by the burning and shakiness of my limbs.

But I’m going to keep dancing, and drinking, until all thoughts of Blake are out of my head.

I stumble toward the bar and wave the bartender over. “Tequila. Two shots, please.”

She briefly studies my face, but doesn’t cut me off. Not yet anyway. When she sets the shots in front of me, I down them one right after the other. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve had today, but it’s enough that the burn’s barely noticeable in my throat.

I put the drinks on my tab, then step back onto the crowded dance floor. Immediately, I’m swallowed whole by hot bodies and jostled deeper into the club. Wordlessly, we all move together as one writhing mass.

Hands grope my hips, slide over my shoulders. A stranger presses himself against my back and I grind my ass into his crotch. I lose myself in his touch, in the beat of the music, I let it all go. All of my anger, worries, and fears. They spill all around me and disappear into the crowd. It’s bliss. Relief. Just for one night.

Another man comes close and sandwiches me between their two hard bodies. He says something, but I can’t make it out over the music.

The room begins to spin, tipping to one side, and I blink sweat out of my eyes. If this were any other night, I might go home with one of these guys. Only to wake up in the morning without a single memory of what happened, just vague impressions. But even as drunk as I am, I know that tonight’s different. I don’t belong to myself anymore. Not really. Because I belong to him .

The Black Baron . Wicked. Cruel. Devious.

The devil in a tailored suit.

His face swims before my eyes, as if I’ve summoned him with my thoughts. His deep rumble vibrates in my core. Then I’m floating through the crowd.