Sienna POV:

I sat on the freezing tile floor of my safehouse bathroom, still shivering in my wet clothes.

The sharp beep of the electronic lock on my front door pierced the silence. There was only one person in the world who possessed the master override code to my security system.

He must have handed Valentina off to his guards the second they were out of sight, using some fabricated emergency as an excuse to leave his new fiancée alone on their engagement night.

Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed down the hallway before Julian's imposing frame filled the bathroom doorway.

He shrugged off his tailored suit jacket, tossing it carelessly onto the counter. The scent of rain, expensive whiskey, and the lingering, nauseating sweetness of Valentina's floral perfume rolled off him.

He reached down, his large hand clamping around my arm as he hauled me up from the floor.

"Why are you sitting in the dark like a stray dog?" he demanded.

His grip was bruising, and his sheer possessiveness felt like a suffocating weight in the cramped space.

He shoved me back against the freezing cold tiles of the wall, leaning in to kiss my neck.

I immediately turned my face away, letting his lips hit the hard line of my jaw instead.

"Don't," I whispered.

Julian froze. His fingers dug into my chin, forcing my gaze up to meet his. His eyes were a storm of dark, furious intent.

"I told you the betrothal is a political facade," he warned, his voice dangerously low. "Do not test my patience tonight, Sienna."

"Three years ago, a Made Man touched my thigh in the compound," I said, my voice hollow and detached.

"You beat him until his skull fractured. You told me no one could touch what belonged to you."

"You do belong to me," Julian growled. He pressed his body flush against mine, effectively trapping me.

"Touch her and you die. That rule still stands."

"Only in the dark," I countered. I pushed my palms against his chest, but he was an immovable wall of muscle.

"In the light, you let them call me a whore. You let them laugh at me."

Julian scoffed, finally stepping back to run a frustrated hand through his damp, dark hair.

"That is Omertà," he stated coldly.

"I have an image to maintain. The Commission will not respect a Don who shows weakness for a low-ranking girl."

"You respect Valentina," I shot back.

The masseter muscle at the base of Julian's ear jumped, and the cadence of his breathing grew heavier.

"Valentina is a tactical genius. Her bloodline brings power. I have to train her tomorrow to protect her territory. It is strictly business."

"Teach me," I pleaded, taking a desperate step toward him.

"Teach me the Family's legitimate money-laundering operations. Let me prove I have a tactical mind. Let me stand beside you."

Julian looked down at me, a cruel, mocking smile touching the corners of his lips.

"You are too soft for the numbers, Sienna. You lack the constitution for this family's business. Just stay in your lane."

He reached out, condescendingly patting my cheek as if I were a naive child.

"I will acknowledge you after the bloodline is secured. Just wait for me."

He turned on his heel and strode out of the bathroom. A moment later, the heavy thud of the front door clicking shut echoed through the empty house.

I walked over to the vanity, staring blankly at my pale reflection in the mirror.

It was not softness that defined me.

It was a profound and bitter stupidity.

I finally understood the bitter truth: Julian looked down on me just as much as the rest of the Syndicate did.