Chapter 43
Sigrid's POV
Maya's skilled hands worked away the tension as warm eucalyptus oil spread across my shoulders. Villa Salvatore's private spa was my sanctuary from the chaos upstairs—Isabella's constant presence, Marco's obsession.
Heavy footsteps echoed against the marble floors.
Maya's hands suddenly stilled.
"Out."
The voice was low, commanding, dangerous. Tony Salvatore.
"Scusi, Don Antonio," Maya stammered, gathering her oils and towels. She fled the room, leaving me alone with Tony.
I reached for the silk robe, pulling it around my shoulders without turning to face him.
"Tony, what do you want?"
"To talk." His footsteps moved closer.
"I'm busy."
"Are you?" His voice carried amusement. "Playing house with my brother, pretending to be the perfect donna."
I finally turned, securing the robe's belt. Tony stood too close, his dark eyes holding something that made my skin crawl.
"While you're down here getting pampered, Isabella is upstairs carrying Marco's child. His heir."
"That's not confirmed—"
"The blood test results come back tomorrow. And we both know what they'll say."
My throat tightened. "So?"
"So you're about to become irrelevant." He reached out, fingers trailing along the marble counter. "Unless you're smart enough to consider other options."
"What kind of options?"
"The kind that could save your pretty neck." His eyes traveled over my silk-covered form with undisguised hunger. "You should leave Marco before he discards you like yesterday's newspaper."
"Marco wouldn't—"
"Marco is obsessed with that Italian bitch. He always has been." Tony's voice hardened. "You think carrying his bastard is going to change that?"
I pulled the robe tighter. "You don't know him like I do."
"Don't I?" Tony laughed. "I've watched my brother pine for Isabella Romano for three years. I've seen him turn down every beautiful woman in New York because none of them could compare to his precious principessa."
"He's with me now."
"He's using you." The words hit like slaps. "A convenient substitute until he could get his hands on the real thing again."
"You're lying."
"Am I?" Tony stepped closer, backing me against the marble wall. "When was the last time Marco looked at you the way he looks at her?"
Never. The admission burned, but I forced my expression to remain neutral.
"I can give you what he never will. Real passion. Real desire. Real power."
"I don't want anything from you."
"No?" His hand moved to the wall beside my head, trapping me. "Then why are you trembling?"
Because I was terrified. Because Tony Salvatore was dangerous in ways his brother never was. Because standing here, cornered and vulnerable, I was suddenly twenty-one again.
\-
Columbia University, junior year. The storage room in the library basement.
Three football players, drunk from pre-gaming. They'd cornered me while I was returning books.
"Please, just let me go," I'd whispered.
"We're not going to hurt you," one slurred, his hand reaching for my blouse.
I'd frozen, completely paralyzed by fear.
Then the door burst open.
"Get your fucking hands off her!"
Isabella Romano stood in the doorway, her dark eyes blazing with fury.
"Mind your own business, Romano."
"It concerns me when I see three cowards assaulting a woman. Leave. Now."
"Or what?"
"Or I'll call my father. And trust me, you don't want that conversation."
They'd left, but not before shoving Isabella against the wall. She'd taken the hit without flinching, then turned to me with gentle concern.
"Are you okay?"
I should have thanked her. Instead, I'd felt nothing but burning shame and resentment.
"I'm fine," I'd said coldly, pushing past her. "I didn't need your help."
But I had needed it. And I'd hated her for it.
Now, years later, with Isabella locked away in that hospital room... the irony was suffocating. She'd saved me once, protected me from men who wanted to hurt me. And I—
I'd destroyed her life completely.
The guilt was a constant weight in my chest, made worse by the knowledge that she didn't deserve what happened to her. What I'd helped make happen. But my jealousy, my rage at watching Marco choose her over me again and again...
Some betrayals were too deep to undo.
\-
"You're thinking about something," Tony observed. "Something that's making you very sad."
"I'm not sad."
"Then why do you look like you're about to cry?"
I straightened, forcing steel into my voice. "Because you're threatening me."
"I'm offering you an opportunity." His thumb traced along my jaw. "Marco is going to marry Isabella. He's going to make her his donna, give her everything you thought would be yours."
"What are you suggesting?"
"That you come with me. Leave this house before Marco throws you out."
"I won't betray Marco."
"Won't you?" Tony's smile was sharp. "You've already betrayed everyone else. Isabella, your supposed best friend. That Irish boy who died for nothing."
His hand moved to my throat, not squeezing but resting there like a promise. "I know what you are, Sigrid. I know what you've done."
"I haven't done anything."
"Haven't you?" His voice was silk over steel. "Sweet, innocent Sigrid. Always in the right place at the right time."
"You're going to help me take what's mine," he continued. "The family, the business, the respect that should have been mine."
"I won't help you hurt Marco."
"You won't have to." Tony's smile was predatory. "Marco is going to destroy himself. His obsession with Isabella will consume him. And when he falls, I'll be there."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you'll fall with him." Tony's hand tightened slightly. "And trust me, cara mia, I'm much less gentle than my brother."
"Consider my offer," Tony said finally, releasing me. "When Marco discards you—and he will—you'll want to be on the winning side."
He straightened his suit jacket. "Oh, and Sigrid? Next time you want to relax, make sure you're not quite so vulnerable. This house can be dangerous for pretty girls who don't know their place."
The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone with my racing heart and the lingering scent of his cologne.
I sank onto the massage table, my legs suddenly unable to support me. The weight of his words pressed down on me like a physical force.
Marco is going to marry Isabella. He's going to make her his donna, give her everything you thought would be yours.
The truth of it burned in my chest. I'd watched Marco's face when he looked at her—the desperate hunger, the possessive need. I'd never seen him look at me that way. Never would.
When Marco discards you—and he will—you'll want to be on the winning side.
My hands trembled as I stared at the marble floor, Tony's proposition echoing in my mind.
Some choices, once made, could never be undone.