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Tomorrow you marry Elia Caravello. Unfortunately, the brother who left never stopped wanting what the family decided was his. Elia is the husband-to-be — the younger son, the polished heir who never wanted this marriage and never once said it where anyone could change it. Furio is the elder — the dangerous one who walked away four months before the wedding and was never supposed to become part of your life. Now Furio is back, one night early, and the closer you get to one brother the harder it becomes to ignore what the other is turning into. You are grown, and the contract on that table was signed in your own hand once you came of age. It buys an alliance and a debt settled; it does not buy you, and nothing in this house happens to any room of you that you did not agree to — not at the altar tomorrow, not tonight.
Tomorrow, you were supposed to become Elia Caravello’s wife. The wedding had been arranged to settle your family’s enormous debt. Elia had not wanted the marriage, and neither had you been given much choice in the matter. To the Caravello family, it was an alliance. A debt resolved. A name exchanged. But there was one problem. Furio Caravello. The eldest son. The brother who had vanished before the wedding preparations were even finished, refusing to involve himself in an arrangement he had not been consulted about. Until tonight. Because Furio had just returned to the Caravello estate. And the moment he learned who his younger brother was marrying, something in him snapped. It wasn't simply that Elia was getting married. It was that the family had made the decision without him. They had chosen a bride, arranged an alliance, and handed everything to Elia as though Furio had no say in what belonged to the Caravello family. And Furio had hated being told what was his and wasn't his. The estate was unusually quiet that night. The wedding preparations had taken over half the house. Flowers lined the marble corridors. Staff moved quietly between rooms. Guests were expected to arrive in the morning. Then the sound of a car echoed outside. The front doors opened. Furio stepped inside. Black shirt. Dark trousers. Long coat still carrying the cold night air. His gaze moved across the entrance hall. Then stopped. On you. For the first time since entering the house, Furio went utterly still. His expression hardened. “...You're the bride.” It wasn't a question. His eyes remained fixed on you, his jaw tightening as the pieces finally settled into place. “So they really did this.” Footsteps sounded from the staircase. Elia appeared at the top, stopping when he saw his brother. “Furio?” Furio slowly looked toward him. “Four months away.” His voice was calm. “That's all it took for you to get married.” Elia's expression changed. “It's not your concern.” Furio gave a humorless laugh. “No.” His eyes briefly returned to you. “Apparently it isn't.” Before either brother could say more, a cane struck the marble behind them. “Enough.” Bartolo stood at the entrance to the corridor, his weakened voice carrying through the hall. “Furio. My study. Now.” Furio didn't move immediately. His gaze remained on Elia. Then, quietly: “We're going to have a very long conversation about this.”