Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“I don’t know him personally, cara.”
“But you’ve heard things, right? You know more than I do.” I tried to move so I could face her, but she tsked gently and kept my head still.
“I’ve heard he takes his position as the heir very seriously. Business is important to him.”
Blood business she meant. Everything that was illegal and corrupted.
“He is handsome and the ladies fancy him.”
I wrinkled my nose in response. “I know that already.”
“I don’t know what you want to hear, Serafina.”
“How do I make him want me?” The question burned my throat as it escaped. “Not just as a wife, but as someone he... values.”
Her hands paused in my hair. “Cara… it hurts me to say this, but men like Matteo, they don’t value anyone.”
“I need to survive this marriage,” I admitted. “Father says I have to make Matteo want me, need me.”
Lucia resumed brushing, her strokes gentle and methodical. “In my experience, the men in our world are actually simple creatures beneath their complicated, impenetrable exteriors. They want to feel powerful and useful. Respected. Give them the importance and gratification they don’t even realize they crave.”
“And how do I do that? By being sweet and submissive to him?”
Lucia’s eyes flashed as she leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper that cut like steel. “Men like him don’t want a wife. You’re a game to him. A conquest.” Her voice sounded almost unfamiliar, as if she were completely different from the sweet, caring nanny I grew up knowing. “They can be brought to their knees, but keeping them there requires mastery. You want to be both the flame and the ice.”
Her hands dropped to my shoulders, her fingers digging in just the slightest bit, the sharpness fueling my focus on her words. “When he expects surrender, become a fortress. When he expects a fight, yield but never completely. There is a rope in your hand, Serafina. And you control how tight it is. You become a trickster, a puzzle. A puzzle he will want to solve for the rest of his life. Make him want to conquer you.”
Her lips twitched with a half-smile, something akin to devilish. “But remember, you can never be conquered. He will want to own you, but if he is the authority then you are the power. You are the Morelli Princess and will be the Salvatore Queen.”
And Queens were not owned.
They were worshipped.
“Do you understand, cara?”
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
I stared at our reflection in the mirror. There was something undeniably fierce in her expression and I wondered how much of her words were from experience. I realized there was so little I knew about Lucia.
I nodded. “Yes, I understand.”
She released my shoulders and straightened, a calm look sliding over her face, hiding a mask of fascinating paradox. Lucia put the last bobby pin in my hair, and then took a step back to admire her work. “There we go. Do you like it?”
My dark hair had been swept into a graceful bun, except for the wisps that were loose and brushed against my cheeks.
“It’s beautiful.” The soft layers elegantly framed my face, softening my features. “Thank you. I think it’s perfect for tonight.”
“Alright, how about makeup? Do you want to do it on your own?”
I didn’t trust anyone to do my makeup. I was sure Lucia was great, but I liked doing my own. I was good at it. “I’ll do my own makeup.”
“Of course. In the meantime, let me find a perfect pair of heels that will go with your dress.”
Lucia gave me a pat on the shoulders, and then walked away as I started gathering all the makeup I would need for this specific look.
I applied my makeup with careful precision, layer by layer. I worked methodically, my fingers steady despite the anxiety churning within me. Foundation blended seamlessly into my skin, concealing the dark circles beneath my eyes, evidence of the last few sleepless nights.
I swept a champagne shimmer across my lids, defining my crease with a deeper taupe, and then lined my eyes with a thin stroke of black liner, winging it slightly at the corners. After two thick coats of waterproof mascara, my lashes were longer and fuller. For my lips, I chose a nude rose color that I knew would complement the emerald dress.
When I was done, I stood up and faced Lucia. She gasped softly. “You have such great talent with makeup, cara,” she whispered, while carefully holding the dress in her arms.
“Thank you,” I murmured, shyness overtaking me at the compliment.
The fabric felt cool against my skin as Lucia helped me step into it. Silk slipped through my fingers like water, too fine to hold onto, too delicate to claim as mine. The emerald dress cascaded down my body, clinging and conforming to every curve before pooling at my feet, its hem trailing like a leash I’d agreed to wear.