Chapter 8 - The Velvet Parlor
Emma woke to the sound of rain drumming against reinforced glass and the delicate clink of fine china.
The smell of ozone and sewage was gone, replaced by the suffocating scent of fresh white lilies and expensive French perfume. She tried to move her hands, but her wrists were bound with soft, silk-wrapped cords to the arms of a high-backed velvet armchair.
""Drink,"" a soft, aristocratic voice commanded. ""The neurotoxin leaves a dreadful headache if you don't hydrate.""
Emma blinked away the blurriness in her vision. She was sitting in an opulent, circular penthouse salon decorated in ivory and gold. Across a low marble coffee table sat a woman who looked like a mirror reflected thirty years into the future.
The woman had the same high cheekbones, the same arched brows, and the same penetrating hazel eyes. Her silver-streaked dark hair was swept into an immaculate chignon. She wore a high-collared tailored white suit, and her fingers were adorned with antique emerald rings.
Beside her stood Victoria, nursing a bruised wrist and looking distinctly uncomfortable, stripped of her earlier arrogance.
""Mother,"" Emma rasped, the word tasting like poison on her tongue.
Helena Donati smiled faintly, setting down her porcelain teacup. ""You have your father's stubborn chin. Cesare always had that infuriating habit of looking at people as if he owned their souls.""
""You threw me away,"" Emma said, her voice shaking with restrained fury. ""You let Salvatore take me. You tried to have me murdered in Julian's dining room tonight!""
""Victoria tried to have you murdered,"" Helena corrected calmly, flicking an icy, dismissive glance at her younger sister. Victoria visibly shrank beneath the gaze. ""Victoria is short-sighted. She thought killing you would secure the council seats. She didn't realize that Julian Rossi had already transferred the Vatican bearer bonds into your name three days ago.""
Emma’s breath hitched. ""Julian did what?""
""He knew this war was coming,"" Helena said, leaning forward, resting her chin on her steepled fingers. ""Julian is many things—ruthless, violent, a savage like his father—but he is not stupid. He knew that the only way to prevent my family from wiping out his entire syndicate was to make your life indispensable to both houses.""
Helena stood up, walking toward the grand window overlooking the storm-swept city.
""The council convenes at midnight at the Saint Jude Cathedral,"" Helena continued. ""Under the old laws, if you marry Julian, the two empires unite. If you refuse, or if he dies before midnight, the Rossi empire is dismantled, and the Donati family takes everything.""
""And if I refuse to marry him?"" Emma demanded.
Helena turned around, her eyes cold, devoid of any maternal affection.
""Then Julian dies in the cathedral basement. And you spend the rest of your life in a private sanitarium in Switzerland, signing ledgers whenever I tell you to.""
The double doors of the salon swung open. Two guards dragged Julian into the room. His face was bloodied, his hands bound in heavy steel cuffs behind his back, but his posture was straight, his eyes burning with lethal intent.
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When his gaze found Emma tied to the chair, his jaw tightened until the tendons stood out like cables against his neck.
""Touch her again,"" Julian rasped, blood dripping from his split lip onto his collar, ""and I will burn your house to the foundations, Helena.""
