Mafia's Surrogate Bride Chapter 65

Aria's POV

"She's nothing special... I don't share my possessions."

The words hit me like a physical blow, each syllable driving home the brutal reality of my situation with devastating clarity. For one foolish, hope-filled moment, I'd thought his desperate search for me, the murderous rage in his eyes when he'd found Vito touching me, meant something more than protecting property.

I'd been wrong. Again.

Standing in that blood-stained warehouse, gore still splattered across my ruined dress, I felt something inside me crack and shatter like fragile glass. The warmth that had bloomed in my chest when he'd appeared like some dark angel of vengeance died a quick, painful death.

Possessions. That's all I was to him. A contracted asset to be maintained and protected like an expensive car or a piece of art. The way he'd said it—so casually, so matter-of-factly—made it clear that whatever I'd imagined I'd seen in his eyes was nothing more than wishful thinking on my part.

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly aware of the cold seeping through my torn dress, the way the expensive silk now hung in tatters around my shoulders. The beautiful gown that had made me feel like a princess just hours earlier was ruined beyond repair, much like any illusions I'd harbored about my place in Damian's world.

How could I have been so stupid?

The drive back to the estate passed in suffocating silence. I pressed myself against the passenger door, as far from Damian as the confines of the car would allow, and stared out at the dark Tuscan countryside racing past. He'd given me his jacket to cover the worst of the damage to my dress, but I could feel his presence like a weight beside me.

Every few minutes, I caught him glancing at me through the rearview mirror, but I refused to meet his gaze. What was the point? He'd made his position crystal clear. I was a business arrangement that had required protection tonight, nothing more.

The familiar lights of Villa Cavalieri came into view as we turned up the winding driveway, and I felt a strange sense of returning to prison. The beautiful estate that had once impressed me with its luxury now felt like a gilded cage designed to contain valuable assets.

Damian parked near the main entrance and moved around the car to open my door with his usual precision. Even now, even after reducing me to mere property in front of his brother, he maintained those surface courtesies that meant nothing.

"Are you hurt?" he asked as I stepped out, his voice carefully neutral.

"No," I replied without looking at him. "Thank you for retrieving your property. I'll be more careful about following security protocols in the future."

I saw him flinch slightly at my choice of words, but I pushed past him toward the entrance before he could respond.

Jennifer appeared in the foyer the moment we entered, her motherly face creased with worry and relief in equal measure. "Miss Rossi! Thank goodness you're safe. When Mr. Cavalieri said you'd gone missing—" She stopped abruptly as she took in my appearance, her eyes widening at the blood stains and torn fabric. "Oh my dear, what happened to you?"

"An incident," I said simply, forcing my voice to remain steady. "It's been resolved. I'd like to clean up now, if that's alright."

"Of course, of course. Let me help you—"

"I can manage," I interrupted gently but firmly. "Thank you, Jennifer."

The master bathroom felt like a sanctuary as I finally allowed myself to break down. Hot water from the shower mixed with tears I'd been holding back for hours, washing away the blood and gore while doing nothing to cleanse the emotional damage.

He called me nothing special.

The words echoed in my mind as I scrubbed my skin raw, trying to erase every trace of the night's events. How many times would I have to learn this lesson? How many times would I allow myself to hope for something that was never going to happen?

I'd signed a contract. I'd agreed to be a surrogate for his heir in exchange for Jessica's medical care. Everything else—the shopping trips, the expensive clothes, the moments of apparent tenderness—had been part of maintaining the asset, nothing more.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a terry cloth robe, I'd made a decision. No more self-deception. No more reading meaning into gestures that meant nothing. From now on, this would be exactly what it was supposed to be: a job.

Damian was sitting in the leather armchair by the windows when I entered the bedroom, still wearing his blood-splattered suit from the warehouse. He looked up as I appeared, something unreadable flickering across his features.

"Aria—" he began, but I cut him off.

"Thank you," I said formally, keeping my voice professionally pleasant. "For tonight. For protecting your investment. "

"That's it?" Damian's voice cracked like a whip, making me freeze halfway to the bed. "I saved your life tonight, and this is the attitude I get?"

"I understand that my carelessness created a situation that required your intervention, and I appreciate you resolving it. I want to assure you that I've learned from this experience," I continued, determined not to let him derail the speech I'd practiced in the shower. "I won't make the mistake of leaving the estate without permission again. I'll follow all security protocols exactly as specified in our contract.

"You think I tear through half of Florence and put a bullet through a man's head for just any piece of property?" he snarled, moving closer until I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"Isn't it?" I tilted my head, meeting his furious gaze with manufactured calm. "You said it yourself—I'm nothing special. Just one of your possessions that needed protection."

For a moment, he stared down at me, his jaw working as if he was fighting some internal battle. I could see the war in his eyes—pride against truth, control against vulnerability.

Pride won.

"You're right," he said finally, his voice going cold and distant. "You're a contract. A means to an end. And I protect what's mine until it's no longer useful."

"Then we understand each other perfectly."

I settled onto my side of the massive bed, pulling the covers up to my chin and turning away from him.

"I'll be scheduling the first medical consultation next week," I said, "Dr. Rosetti mentioned that we should begin the fertility assessments as soon as possible. The sooner we can achieve conception through the medical procedures, the sooner this arrangement can be completed to both our satisfactions."