Lola's POV

I stood staring at him, the monster I had been given to, to be his wife .

My little conversation with Smith earlier replayed in my head as I struggled to remain calm and withhold my tears.

"I have to warn you about Rome," Smith had begun as we walked up the marble steps. "He's... different since the accident. Colder. He wasn't always like this, you know."

I glanced at him sideways. "What accident?"

"Car crash, several months ago. Drunk driver ." Smith's jaw tightened.

"Rome was never the same after. Physically or emotionally. He pushes everyone away now."

"He goes through women like disposable toys now," Smith continued, his voice dropping to a concerned whisper. "I just... I want you to be prepared. He's not going to make this easy for you."

Something twisted in my stomach. "Women?"

"His girlfriends. They never last long. Rome gets bored quickly, and when Rome gets bored..." Smith shook his head sadly. "Let's just say you're not his first arranged marriage."

My steps had faltered. "What happened to the others?"

Smith stopped walking entirely, turning to face me with concerned eyes. "They left. In the middle of the night, usually. Rome has ways of making people... uncomfortable."

"Rome, darling."

The sweet patronizing voice shook me out of my painful reverie and made Rome turn. Laura Gomez glided into the room like she owned it, her long legs accentuated in a red dress that clung to every curve. Her black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her emerald eyes sparkled with mischief.

She moved with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly how beautiful she was, and how to use that beauty as a weapon.

"You didn't tell me your little wife had arrived," she purred, draping herself across Rome's lap with practiced ease. Her fingers traced along his collar, a gesture of possession that made my stomach turn.

Rome didn't push her away. The message was clear—I could see exactly where I stood in the hierarchy of his life.

"Laura, meet Lola," Rome said lazily. "Lola, this is Laura."

Laura's smile was sharp as a blade. "How lovely. And so young." Her gaze lingered on my worn out outfit with contempt. "Aren't you precious?"

I felt the familiar urge to shrink, to apologize for my existence. But something in me rebelled. I stood straighter, meeting Laura's stare with quiet dignity.

"It's nice to meet you," I said simply.

Laura's eyes narrowed. She'd clearly expected me to be in tears, cowering. Instead, she got politeness. It clearly annoyed her.

"Rome, baby," Laura cooed, pressing closer to him. "Why don't we go upstairs? I've missed you."

Her hand slid down his chest in a gesture meant to arouse him. I felt heat creep up my neck, embarrassed to be witnessing such an intimate display.

"Later," Rome said. "I have business to attend to."

He wheeled away from both of us. "Lola, you'll find cleaning supplies in the kitchen. I expect my room to be spotless by dinner.”

*******

I spent the next three hours scrubbing floors I could have eaten off of. The Ryder mansion was immaculate, maintained by what must have been a small army of servants. Making me clean was clearly just another form of humiliation.

But I was used to that.

As I worked my way through the rooms, I found myself in the portrait gallery. Dozens of portraits lined the walls. They were the generations of Ryders staring down with cold, calculating eyes. At the center hung a massive portrait of a breathtakingly beautiful woman with kind eyes and Rome's dark hair.

His mother, I realized. He looked so much like her.

"Lovely, isn't she?"

I spun around to find Laura watching me from the doorway. She'd changed into jeans and a silk blouse that probably cost more than I'd ever owned.

"She was beautiful," I said carefully.

Laura walked closer, her heels clicking on the marble floor. "Poor Isabella. She had such dreams for Rome. Wanted him to find true love, have children, and be happy." She began with a chuckle "Instead, he got you."

I continued dusting, refusing to take the bait.

"You know what happened to every woman Rome marries, don't you?" Laura continued conversationally.

I paused.

"I thought I was his first."

"Oh, sweetie." Laura began with a harsh laugh.

"You're wife number three. The first one lasted six months before she threw herself from the balcony. The second one disappeared one night—they never did find her body."

My heart skipped a beat. "You're lying."

"Am I?" Laura replied, studying her manicured nails.

"Rome has very specific... tastes. He likes his women broken. Submissive. Grateful for whatever scraps of attention he tosses them. And when they stop being entertaining..." She shrugged.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I like you," Laura said, and somehow it felt more threatening than an insult. "You seem sweet. Innocent. It would be such a shame to see you end up like the others."

She moved closer, her perfume choking me.

"Here's some friendly advice, darling. Pack your little bag and leave tonight. Go far away, change your name, disappear. Because if you stay..." A smirk tugged at the end of her lips. "Well. Let's just say Rome always gets what he wants. And what he wants is to watch you break or die

."

I set down my dust pan and turned to face her fully. For the first time in my life, I felt more angry than I was afraid.

"Are you finished?" I asked quietly.

Laura blinked, clearly expecting tears or begging. "Excuse me?"

"I asked if you were finished. With your little speech." I stepped closer, and Laura actually backed up a step. "Because I have work to do."

Her green eyes flashed. "You little bitch. Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Rome's friend," I said calmly. "Though I'm starting to wonder what kind of friend tries to terrorize his wife on her first day."

Laura's hand flew up to slap me, but I caught her wrist. Her eyes widened in shock.

"No," I said simply.

For fifteen years, I'd let Uncle Alexander and Aunt Ariel hit me, humiliate me, treat me like garbage. I'd accepted it because I'd had nowhere else to go.

But something had changed. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was finally having nothing left to lose or it was just that I was tired of being everyone's victim.

"Let go of me," Laura hissed.

"Don't ever raise your hand to me again."

"You think Rome will protect you?" Laura's voice was bitter and vicious.

You think he cares about some little charity case his father forced on him?"

"I think," I said, "that I'm done being afraid of people like you."

Laura tried to jerk free, but I held on. My grip was stronger than expected. I had worked myself to death everyday so I had more muscles than she had.

"Let. Go. Of. Me."

"Is there a problem here?"

We both froze. Rome sat in his wheelchair in the doorway, his dark eyes gleaming with interest taking in the scene.

Laura immediately switched tactics, her face crumpling and she burst into tears.

"Rome, thank god. This little savage attacked me. Look at my wrist!"

She held up her arm, which showed faint red marks where I'd gripped it.

Rome's gaze shifted to me. I waited for the explosion, the punishment, the proof of everything Laura had said about his cruelty.

Instead, he smiled. It was a cold, dangerous expression that made my blood run cold.

"Lola," he said quietly. "Release her."

I let go, and Laura immediately cradled her wrist dramatically and walked to him.

"She's insane, Rome. I was just trying to be friendly, and she—"

"Lola." Rome's voice cut through her protests. "Did you just try to injure Laura ?"

My eyes widened at this. She was the one who…

"Laura," Rome continued, his tone dangerously calm, "is under my protection.

He rolled closer, and even while sitting down, his presence was intimidating

I stepped backwards, shrinking.

Laura grinned, clearly pleased.

"If you ever," he said softly, "raise your hand to her again, you will discover exactly how creative I can be with my displeasure."

“ I understand”, I replied quietly, looking past him.

“ Laura, you need to attend to something downstairs”.

“ Thank you Rome”, she said in her false honey dripping voice and kissed Rome.

She strutted away leaving me and Rome alone.

He sat there, his eyes searching my face, looking for something I couldn't identify.

"Tell me, Lola," he said softly. "Are you afraid of me?"

The honest answer was yes. I was terrified of him, of this house, of the entire situation. But I was also tired of being afraid.

"Yes," I replied simply.

Rome's smile widened, and for a moment, it almost looked genuine. "Good. Fear will keep you alive here.

He wheeled past me toward the door, then paused.

"Dinner is at seven. Wear something appropriate." His voice was full of distaste.

"There are dresses in the closet in your room. Pick one."

"My room?"

"Third door on the right, second floor. Your things have been moved." He glanced back at me over his shoulder.

"Oh, and Lola? What you did to Laura... do it again, and you'll discover I'm far less forgiving than she is."

The threat sent chills down my spine, but there was something else in his voice. Something that almost sounded like... approval?

Before I could think about it, he was gone, leaving me alone in the portrait gallery with the painted eyes of dead and possibly living Ryders staring down at me.

I looked up at Isabella Ryder's kind face and whispered, "What have I gotten myself into?”