Chapter 9: Cage for a home

Bianca

"Our "home" for the next month of so revealed itself as we followed the too-cheerful manager through a private wing of the resort. It was more beautiful prison than luxury suite, I thought, each gorgeous detail another bar in our cage.

"Here we are!" the manager announced, swiping a keycard with flourish. "This suite was specifically chosen for you two. Private, intimate, perfect for a couple getting to know each other before marriage."

My father materialized beside me—when had he arrived?—his hand heavy on my shoulder. "Fine. Bianca, you'll check in with me daily. Morning and evening. Understood?"

"Understood," I said mechanically.

The door swung open to reveal a breathtaking space. The main sitting room featured floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing endless ocean views, plush furniture arranged for intimate conversation, a kitchenette for private meals. And crucially, I noted with desperate relief, two doors leading to separate bedrooms flanking the common area.

"Your luggage has already been delivered to your respective rooms," the manager continued, still beaming like this was a romantic getaway instead of a hostage situation. "There's a private chef on call twenty-four hours, or we can arrange dinner reservations at any of our restaurants. Whatever the happy couple desires."

Happy couple. The words tasted like poison.

"We'll take dinner here," I said quickly, not looking at Alessandro. "Tonight and every night. Private. No interruptions."

The manager's smile never wavered. "Of course. I'll have something special sent up at seven. And congratulations again to you both!"

He left, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that made my chest tight. The lock engaged automatically—keeping us in? Keeping the world out? Both?

The silence stretched between Alessandro and me, thick and suffocating. The ocean crashed against the cliffs far below, indifferent to our misery.

"One month," I said finally, speaking to the windows, the ocean, anything but him. "We just have to survive one month. Then we can go back to our real lives, or whatever passes for real after this nightmare."

"Bianca..." His voice behind me, too close, too familiar.

I spun around, and I let him see everything. The wall I'd built, brick by agonizing brick. The ice I'd wrapped around my bleeding heart. The rage and grief and betrayal all swirling together into something cold and impenetrable.

"Here are the rules," I said, my voice steady despite the chaos inside. "We play our parts for the families. We smile and act civil when we're being watched. But that's it. That's all you get from me. What we had in Positano is dead—you killed it with every lie you told.

So you stay on your side of this suite, I'll stay on mine. We'll eat our uncomfortable dinners and make our polite conversation and in thirty days, we'll walk down the aisle and sign whatever papers they put in front of us. But don't ever ask for my trust. Don't ask for my forgiveness." My voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "And don't you dare expect me to love you."

The color drained from his face. He looked like I'd physically struck him, and some small, vicious part of me was glad. Wanted him to hurt the way I hurt.

"It doesn't have to be this way," he said hoarsely. "If you'd just let me explain everything—what really happened, why I made the choices I did—"

"It does have to be this way," I interrupted, and now my voice was breaking, the ice cracking despite my best efforts.

" if I let you in again, if I let myself believe in you one more time and you break my heart—" I had to stop, had to swallow past the lump in my throat. "I won't survive it, Alessandro. I barely survived it the first time. I'm not desperate"

Without waiting for his response, I turned and fled to the bedroom marked as mine, shutting the door between us and engaging the lock with shaking hands. I made it three steps into the room before my composure shattered completely.

I collapsed onto the massive bed—silk duvet, ocean views, everything perfect and wrong—and the tears came. Hot and relentless, they poured out of me, carrying all the pain I'd been holding back. My whole body shook with sobs I'd been suppressing since that horrible lunch, since the moment I'd learned the truth about who he really was.

I don't know how long I cried. Long enough that my throat went raw, that my head started pounding, that the Coastal sunset painted the room in shades of orange and gold that seemed to mock my devastation.

A soft sound made me look up. The door my locked door—was swinging open.

Alessandro stood in the doorway, and I realized with distant surprise that he was crying too. Silent tears tracked down his face, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen, his expression shattered. He held a keycard in his hand,of course he had access to both bedrooms. Of course there was no real privacy here.

He didn't speak. Didn't explain or apologize or try to defend himself. He just walked across the room with slow, deliberate steps, locked the door behind him, and slid the security bolt home. Sealing us in together.

Then he crossed to the bed and sat on the edge, careful not to touch me, and dropped his head into his hands. His shoulders began to shake with silent, wrenching sobs.

"Bianca," he finally choked out, his voice thick with tears and grief. "I know you hate me. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness or your understanding or anything from you , we're both trapped in this cage they've built for us, and for this month—just this month—let me try to keep the monsters away. Not just their expectations and manipulations, but this pain too. This unbearable pain we're both drowning in."

He finally looked at me, and his face was completely unguarded. Raw with grief and regret and something that looked terrifyingly like love. "I'm so sorry, amore mio. I'm so goddamn sorry for everything. For lying, for hurting you, for not being strong enough to defy my family before any of this started. I'm sorry for loving you the way I do, because I know that just makes everything worse now."

A broken, animal sound escaped my throat. Whatever was left of my strength, my walls, my careful control—it all vanished. I crumpled forward, pressing my face into my hands, and we cried together. Two people destroyed by family obligation and our own terrible choices, lost in a shared storm of regret and despair and the aching ghost of what might have been.

The ocean kept crashing below us. The sun kept setting. We sat in the ruins of our love, grieving for something that had been real even if it had been built on lies.

Tomorrow we'd rebuild our walls. Tomorrow we'd remember how to hate each other... tonight, for just these few stolen hours, we were simply two broken people seeking comfort in the only other person who understood exactly how this felt.

"You left me hanging."

"I'm sorry . "

"We have a party to prepare for... "

"