Page 2 of The Rhino's Rose

But he did, and his footsteps on the polished marble floor in his study are headed this way.

Quickly backing away from the door, I bump into one of the obscenely large vases my father favors, sending it crashing to the floor in the dark. Lights come on as everyone—my father, Nicolo, and any staff within earshot of this part of the house—all become immediately aware of my lurking presence.

“Rosa!” my father calls out as I turn and run as fast as possible in my shin-length nightgown. When I don’t stop, his tone turns to thunder. “Come back here this instant!”

“I’m not going with him!” I scream as I take the first set of stairs toward my third-story bedroom.

Loud male voices drift up the wide, marble staircases, but they’re not directed at me. Father and Nicolo speak to each other in heated conversation. Hope flickers inside me when I hear my father commandNicolo to wait, only to have that hope die seconds later when it becomes clear he means “wait in the study” and not “wait until she turns sixteen.”

My pulse skyrockets at the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs below. Sparing a glance back is a mistake that costs me more than the split-second it takes. With my head turned, I don’t see Isabella as I round the corner toward my room, the impact taking us both to the ground.

“You have to help me,” I screech while untangling my limbs from hers, then rush into my room.

“Rosa, calm down,” she says, following me into the room.

“Close the door. Hurry, help me shove the dresser in front of it. We can’t let my father in.”

“That dresser is made from black ironwood and weighs more than both of us put together, and I’m not at liberty to lock your father out of any room. Take a breath and tell me why you’re upset. I heard you yelling. Did you have another night terror?”

It’s been years since the last time, and even now, I’d swear to God the creature I used to see outside my window at night was real, not a figment of my subconscious mind. “No,” I say, shaking my head forcefully enough to rattle my brain. “My father made a deal with Nicolo Nicchi—a dealfor me. You have to help me get away from here.”

Her patient expression pales, her lips forming a straight line. “I care about you dearly, but you know I can’t help you with this.”

Of course not. My father would literally kill her on the spot if she helped me escape.

“Then distract him while I sneak out. You can tell him I pushed you and you fell and lost consciousness for a couple of minutes. Or just…make up any story you need to save yourself after I’m gone, but please,please, Isabella, help me get away. Hegaveme to Nicolo. As a wife! He’s letting Nicolo take me away tonight. Right now.”

“It wasn’t ‘gave,’ Rosa. An arrangement was made. Nicolo swore a blood oath to keep you safe and ensure you want for nothing when you become his wife.”

“I’m not marrying anyone because my father tells me to. Especially Nicolo. Why would he think I would go along with that? Why doyou?”

“Because in this matter, there is no choice. Arrangements are an integral part of the business among the families. Your parents were arranged. Their feelings toward each other were irrelevant. They did what was required, as you will now.”

Is that why my father didn’t care that my mother died when I was a toddler, because they were arranged and he didn’t love her? Possibly didn’t even like her? Is it why he never saw me as anything other than an asset to be leveraged for power?

But the worst part, the thing that actually hurts my heart right now, is that Isabella knew about the deal. For the past three years, the nanny who basically raised me has known I was living on borrowed time, that when I turned sixteen, I’d be shipped off to marry aman older than my father. She knew and she’s okay with it.

“I don’t feel well.” Clutching my stomach, I sit on the edge of my bed. “Would you get me a glass of water and a seltzer tablet from the bathroom?”

“Of course,” she says, gently stroking my hair. “Then I will help you get ready for the next chapter of your life. There are things every woman should know before her first time with a man.”

A sex talk in preparation for losing my virginity to a disgusting, fifty-year-old mobster who decapitated a man in exchange for my body. If I didn’t need to get the hell out of here immediately, I might actually vomit.

Groaning and rocking dramatically, I watch Isabella cross the large bedroom. The instant she disappears into the adjoining, oversized bathroom, I bolt for the narrow French doors that lead to my balcony. Throwing them open, I lunge onto the small concrete terrace overlooking the courtyard. There’s no way down. Not that I can walk away from.

“Rosa Angela Maria Falsone.”

I jump at the sound of my full name spoken in anger. A breeze lifts my hair as I turn to face the room, but the shiver that runs its unwelcome fingers up my spine has nothing to do with the night’s cool temperature. “I’m not going with him!” I yell, pointing at Nicolo, where he stands at my father’s side, openly ogling me.

Disgusting creepy man.

My father isn’t much better, bartering me off like a commodity. Like a whore.

“You’ll do as you’re told, Rosa. By me, and when you leave here, by Nicolo. Now, get in this room and pack a bag. I’ll have the staff box up the rest of your things and send them along next week.”

“Fuck you! Both of you! And fuck you too, Isabella,” I scream when she enters my view.

“Insolent little thing. But not for long. I’ll teach her the obedience you clearly have not, Angelo.” Nicolo’s eyes sparkle as he rubs his palms together, taking a step forward.

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