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Confusion knits my brow. "Them?"
"Your family. Your father. After the way they've treated you, overlooked you...why do you still want their validation?"
I open my mouth, then close it again, stunned to silence. I try to summon the usual irritation at the mere mention of my father, but find none. Only a hollow sadness.
He gave up on me long, long ago. So Aurora's question is nothing but reasonable.
Why the hell do I care?
Why care about the Imperioli Family at all? I've built my own reputation, my own name, my ownempire. I'm wealthier than Nero will ever be and I hold more influence than he ever will. Juno Bianchi is not likely to be interested in dealing with him, for example.
But she would with me, if I asked her to.
Aurora's eyes are knowing, yet kind.
"I don't know," I answer finally, truthfully. The clock strikes two, the sound reverberating through my rooms.
Aurora's hand finds mine beneath the sheets, anchoring me. "You're your own woman, Hadria. It seems to me that you owe them nothing."
I let her words settle over me, allowing myself to imagine, just for a moment, the possibility of a life unfettered by my family's shadow. Is it even possible, at this point?
Or am I damned to repeat the same destructive cycles, over and over?
CHAPTER 26
Aurora
The dim lightfiltering through from the sitting room casts shadows across Hadria's face as she lies next to me in her huge bed. Even in repose, her features maintain their sharp, aquiline beauty, though her typical guardedness has fallen away, replaced by a pensiveness I've seldom seen.
I came here tonight intending only to ask about my mother, but after seeing Hadria naked, that hot tingle ran all through me, and my legs simply refused to let me leave…
And now here we are, tangled up in each other, my body sated so deeply I don't think I've ever really known what it meant to be relaxed before.
My last comment, tentative yet bold, still hangs between us.It seems to me you owe them nothing. Over the past few months I've seen how fiercely Hadria guards herself, shrouding her inner world behind an impenetrable wall of ice. So I don't know how she'll take my observation. If she'll turn Ice Queen again and order me out of the room.
When she finally parts her lips, her voice is low, almost a murmur in the hushed room. "Respect. That's what I truly want. Not just power, but respect. The kind of bone-deep awe commanded only by those born to lead." She pauses, gray eyes clouding with bitter memories. "As a child, I was denied that respect because of the circumstances of my birth. My father saw me as nothing but a disappointment from the moment I came into this world without a Y chromosome. When Nero was born, Papa spent afortuneannouncing him to the world. So I vowed to seize with my own hands the position that should have been my birthright. Tomakemy father acknowledge me." Her voice is cold and implacable. "To have him come to me on his knees, begging for scraps from the daughter he discarded."
The venom in her words sends a shiver through me. In silence, I reach for Hadria's hand, lacing our fingers together. After a taut moment, she relaxes into my touch, her cold fury settling back beneath the surface.
I speak gently. "But you've achieved so much already. You command an army that strikes fear across the city. And though your methods are…ruthless, even your enemies speak your name with respect. Even Nero is afraid of you, Hadria. And not without reason."
She regards me with unveiled surprise. I wonder if I've overstepped, but she simply nods slowly, considering my words.
"You may be right," she finally admits, eyes distant in thought.
I feel a spark of hope that perhaps Hadria will reconsider her relentless drive for power. I understand it—but I fear that bottomless hole ofneedinside her will only destroy her if she lets it.
Wanting to turn our talk to lighter subjects, I say, "You know, I've been thinking about expanding the night garden. There's a section in the west corner that would be perfect for a climbing arch of jasmine or hyacinth."
I describe my plans for the garden, hands sketching shapes in the air, carried away by my enthusiasm. Hadria listens with a hint of a smile playing about her lips. Though gardening holds little interest for her, she seems content to indulge my passionate monologue about soil pH levels and optimal sunlight gradients.
The night deepens as we talk. Reflecting Hadria's nocturnal schedule, it's nearly 3 a.m. by the time we regretfully roll out of bed. Hadria checks her phone, sighing at the messages waiting for her, all of them silenced and ignored during my time here.
She really has focused solely on me.
If things could be like this all the time, maybe…maybe Icouldfind a way to be free here, with her, despite everything.
Suddenly she seems to shift gears, her voice regaining that imperious tone as she announces, "Your mother is coming to visit tomorrow. She'll arrive just after sunset in respect of our customs."
