Chapter 49 The Outsider
The water in the shower was scalding hot.
I stood under the spray for twenty minutes. I scrubbed my skin until it was raw and pink. I dug my fingernails into my palms to scrape away the garden soil. I washed my hair three times to get the smell of dust and rosemary out of it.
I wanted to wash away the feeling of the courtyard. I wanted to wash away the look in Lucrezia’s eyes when she called me a "distraction."
But no matter how hard I scrubbed, I still felt dirty. I still felt like the girl who had been traded for a debt.
I turned off the water and stepped onto the cold tile mat. The mirror was fogged up. I wiped a circle in the glass and looked at myself. My eyes were tired. My skin was pale. I looked like a refugee.
I walked into the bedroom and opened the wardrobe. It was a depressing sight.
Most of the clothes were things Dante had provided. They were practical things. Jeans. Heavy shirts. Sweaters meant for warmth, not style. There was one dress. It was a simple black thing I had worn to a funeral months ago.
I pulled it out. It was wrinkled.
I put it on anyway. I brushed my hair until it crackled with static. I put on a touch of mascara I found at the bottom of my bag.
I tried to look like a woman who belonged in a fortress. I tried to look like a woman who belonged at the side of a king.
I looked in the mirror again.
I looked like a child playing dress-up in her mother's clothes.
"It doesn't matter," I whispered to the empty room. "He chose you. He didn't choose her."
But the words felt hollow. He hadn't chosen me. He had bought me. And now the woman he should have chosen was downstairs, drinking his wine and planning his war.
I left the room and walked down the long, stone hallway. The fortress was usually quiet at night. Tonight, it was alive.
I could hear the clatter of pans in the kitchen. I could hear the murmur of voices from the guard room. And as I got closer to the dining hall, I heard laughter.
It was a low, throaty laugh. It sounded like confidence. It sounded like ownership.
I stopped at the heavy oak doors of the dining room. I took a deep breath. I smoothed the wrinkles in my black dress. I pushed the door open.
The room had been transformed.
Usually, Dante and I ate at the small table in the kitchen, or we took plates of pasta into the library. We ate like people who were too busy surviving to care about formalities.
Tonight, the long mahogany table in the formal dining room was set.
Tall white candles were burning in silver holders. There was crystal glassware that caught the light of the fire. There were linen napkins folded into crisp triangles.
Dante was sitting at the head of the table. He had changed out of his work clothes. He was wearing a dark suit and a white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. He looked tired, but he also looked powerful. He looked like the Don he was supposed to be.
Lucrezia was sitting to his right.
That was my seat. That was where I always sat when we used this room.
She was wearing a dress made of green silk that matched her eyes. It was backless and clung to her body like a second skin. She was leaning toward Dante, her hand resting lightly on the tablecloth near his elbow.
They stopped talking when I entered.
Lucrezia turned her head slowly. Her eyes swept over me. She looked at the wrinkled black dress. She looked at my damp hair. She looked at the cheap boots I was still wearing because I didn't have heels.
She didn't say anything mean. She just smiled. It was a smile of pity.
"Ah," she said softly. "The guest has arrived."
Dante looked at me. His expression was unreadable. He didn't smile. He didn't motion for me to come closer. He just watched me, his grey eyes guarded.
"Sit down, Lilith," he said. His voice was flat.
I walked to the table. The only open setting was on the left side, across from Lucrezia, but further down. It was a mile away from Dante.
I pulled out the heavy chair and sat down. The wood scraped loudly against the floor. The sound echoed in the sudden silence.
Mrs Rossi bustled in from the kitchen, carrying a silver platter. She looked stressed. Her usually neat apron was crooked. She caught my eye and gave me a quick, nervous nod, but she didn't speak. She set the platter down in front of Dante. It was a roast, smelling of garlic and herbs.
"Thank you, Maria," Lucrezia said. She used Mrs Rossi's first name. I didn't even know Mrs Rossi's first name.
"Of course, Signorina De Luca," Mrs Rossi mumbled, retreating quickly to the kitchen.
Lucrezia picked up the wine bottle and poured a glass for Dante, then one for herself. She didn't offer me any.
"So," she said, turning back to Dante as if I wasn't there. "My father was telling me about the situation in Naples. He says the Russo family is crumbling. He thinks it is the perfect time for you to expand the shipping lines."
Dante nodded. He cut a piece of meat. "The Russos have been weak for years. But Rinaldi has people in their organization. If we move on Naples, we expose our flank in the south."
"Not if you use the De Luca ports," Lucrezia said smoothly. She took a sip of wine. "If we combine our fleets, we can bypass the blockade entirely. We did it in '21, remember? During the trade embargo."
Dante’s lips quirked up slightly. It wasn't a smile, but it was a reaction. "I remember. Your father took a massive risk that winter."
"He took a risk because he believed in you," Lucrezia said. Her voice dropped to an intimate register.
"We have always believed in you, Dante. Even when the rest of the Commission called you a loose cannon."
I sat there, staring at my empty plate. I didn't know who the Russos were. I didn't know about the trade embargo of '21. I didn't know about the Commission.
They were speaking a language I couldn't understand. It was the language of history. It was a code built on years of shared secrets and alliances.
"Is the war going that badly?" I asked.
My voice sounded too loud in the quiet room.
Lucrezia stopped mid-sentence. She looked at me with mild surprise, as if the furniture had suddenly spoken.
"Excuse me?" she said.
"The war," I said. I looked at Dante. "You said Rinaldi was taking territory. Is it bad enough that we have to trust people we barely know?"
The air in the room went cold.
Lucrezia let out a short, sharp laugh. It sounded like glass breaking.
"People we barely know?" She looked at Dante. "She is adorable. Does she know who my family is?"
"Lilith is not involved in the politics," Dante said quietly. He didn't look at me. He looked at his wine glass.
"Clearly," Lucrezia said. She turned her green gaze on me. It felt like a physical weight.
"My dear, the De Luca family has been allies with the Caravellis since before you were born. We do not 'barely know' each other. We are the foundation of this world."
"I just meant that trust has to be earned," I said stubbornly. "Dante told me that."
"Dante tells you what you need to hear to keep you calm," Lucrezia said. She sliced her roast beef with surgical precision.
"War is not about trust, little girl. It is about leverage. It is about blood. It is about marriage and contracts."
She put a piece of meat in her mouth and chewed slowly.
"You speak of trust," she continued, swallowing. "But what do you bring to the table? My family brings guns. We bring ships. We bring soldiers. You bring... what? A debt? A liability?"
I gripped my fork until my knuckles turned white.
"I bring loyalty," I said.
Lucrezia laughed again. This time, it was genuine amusement.
"Loyalty," she repeated. "How quaint. You think loyalty stops a bullet? You think loyalty pays for ammunition?"
She leaned forward. Her eyes bored into mine.
"Loyalty is what dogs give their masters because they have no other choice. It is not a virtue. It is a survival mechanism for the weak."
I looked at Dante. I waited for him to speak. I waited for him to tell her to shut up. I waited for him to say that I was more than a debt, more than a dog.
Dante picked up his wine glass. He swirled the red liquid. He looked at the fire.
"Eat your dinner, Lilith," he said.
The silence that followed was deafening.
He wasn't going to defend me. He couldn't. He needed her guns more than he needed my feelings.
I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes. I hated them. I hated myself for being weak.
"I'm not hungry," I said.
Lucrezia smiled. "A pity. The roast is excellent. But I suppose simple tastes prefer simple food."
She turned back to Dante. She dismissed me completely.
"Now, about the wedding," she said.
I froze.
"There is no wedding," Dante said sharply.
"Not yet," Lucrezia corrected. She reached out and adjusted his tie. It was a gesture so intimate it made my stomach turn.
"But the Council expects a union. If we are to merge our armies, we must merge our names. It is the only way to ensure the men respect the chain of command."
"We will discuss terms later," Dante said. He sounded exhausted.
"We will discuss them tonight," Lucrezia said firmly. "I have the contracts in my room. You can come up after dinner."
She looked at me then. A slow, victorious smirk spread across her lips.
"Unless, of course, you have other obligations?"
She was marking her territory. She was peeing on the fire hydrant while I stood there and watched.
I stood up. My chair scraped the floor again.
"I have a headache," I said. My voice was tight. "I'm going to bed."
"Do you need something for it?" Lucrezia asked. Her tone was dripping with fake concern.
"I have some excellent powders from Milan. They are very strong. They knock you out so you don't have to think."
"I'm fine," I snapped.
"Suit yourself," she said. She turned back to Dante. "More wine, amore?"
I walked out of the room. I forced myself not to run. I walked with my back straight and my head high, even though I felt like I was crumbling inside.