Page 1 of Devil's Tulip

PROLOGUE

GIANNA

“No.”

The word hangs between us, a fragile lifeline I’ve just thrown myself. In the ten years I’ve lived under Uncle Aldo’s roof, I’ve never dared to say it. Not to his face. Not aloud. I didn’t have the guts. Hell,I still don’t.But sometimes, the scariest monster isn’t the one who raised you—it’s the one he’s chosen for your happily never after.

Uncle Aldo narrows his cold, dead eyes at me, and I feel that fleeting spark of courage shrivel up and die somewhere between my racing heart and churning stomach.Stupid, stupid girl. What were you thinking?When he leans forward in his chair, I clamp my lips shut and force myself to breathe through my nose. The last thing I need is to puke on his expensive rug.

That will only piss him off more.

“The wedding is on Friday,” he continues, as if my refusal didn’t register at all. “Carlo wants to take you out tomorrow to officially propose. We’ll say you two met a month ago, fell madly in love?—”

I can’t hear the rest.

His grand plans fade into an annoying buzz as my mind does what it does best lately—it retreats. Still, I can’t escape the cruel glint in his eyes, the eager way his meaty hands gesticulate as he monologues.

Whether he’s thrilled to finally be rid of me or savoring whatever sick deal he’s struck with Carlo in exchange for my unwilling hand in marriage, I’m not sure. All I know is that, for once in my pathetic life, the cost of defying him feels cheaper than the price of obedience.

The man he wants me to marry, Carlo Santiago, is famous—or infamous— for his untimely marriages. It’s hardly a secret that his poor wives’ accidental deaths were anything but. And now I’m supposed to be next in line.

I always knew that when I eventually married, it would be to a man of my uncle's choosing, not my desire. But why Carlo of all people? That’s not a marriage; it’s an execution with extra steps.

And I sure as hell won’t smile my way to the gallows just to please my family.

“You hear me, girl?” Uncle Aldo’s voice snaps like a whip, jerking me out of my thoughts.

“I said no,” I repeat, the word stronger this time despite the way my legs threaten to buckle.

He doesn’t ignore this one.

Uncle Aldo’s face darkens like a storm rolling in, his chair tilting dangerously as he pushes up with sudden force.

I stumble back instinctively, away from him, nearly tripping over my own feet. Another step, then one more—just in case he decides to backhand me like he’s been doing more and more lately whenever his patience with me runs out.

“Enough of this nonsense,” he growls, nodding to one of his ever-present guards, stationed there for reasons known only to Uncle Aldo and his constant paranoia that his enemies will get to him, even inside his own home.

Then I feel it: the oppressive heat of another body searing into my back, bringing with it the acrid stench of sweat and gunpowder that clings to all his men. My stomach gurgles audibly as rough fingers dig into my upper arm.Fuck, not now.I swallow back the nausea, but it’s no use. Uncle Aldo’s smirk spreads. He’s reading it all—every ounce of my fear—and he fucking thrives on it.

“Yes, Gia. It is done. You’ll go to dinner with Carlo tomorrow and smile prettily at him. Come Friday, you’ll be his blushing bride, just as I’ve arranged. Do you understand me? Now go get yourself dolled up.”

Another curt nod, and I’m being dragged towards the study door and shoved over the threshold with enough power to send me lurching forward.

The unforgiving tiles rush up to meet me as I throw my hands out to break my fall. My palms slap the icy marble, and I hiss a breath at the sharp, stinging pain that vibrates up my arms. For a few heartbeats, I just stay there, chest heaving with my panicked breaths.

Shit. Shit. What do I do?

I can’t marry Carlo.

I refuse to end up another convenient accident.

Gritting my teeth, I push myself off the floor. Every movement aches, but not nearly as much as the bitter longing gnawing at my chest. I’m not asking for love, damn it. Just a shred of decency. A flicker of care. Something to remind me I’m a person, not a bargaining chip.

When I finally push myself off the floor, I hear footsteps, and Aunt Marie appears around the hallway corner.

We both go still, studying each other warily, before her perfectly painted lips curve into that familiar arctic smile that never reaches her eyes. “I see Aldo told you the happy news.”

Happy news. Like hell.

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