Chapter - 4.1
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Alessio's Study
Power. Authority. Control.
These were the words that had been etched into me since childhood, words that defined who I was and what I had become. As the Grand Duke of Cavelli, I stood second only to the king. My duchy was vast, prosperous, and strategically vital, making me a constant player in the empire's endless political games.
The emperor wanted me tethered to his throne, bound by the chains of marriage to his daughter, the second princess. But I was no puppet. I had resisted his pressure for years, avoiding the trappings of marriage, heirs, and sentimentality. Love, as I saw it, was a weakness, an emotion that clouded judgment and undermined strength.
I had watched as countless nobles succumbed to the desires of the heart, watching them crumble, blinded by love's false promises. I had sworn never to let myself be one of them.
My father had ensured that. As a boy, I was reminded daily that I was the last of the Cavelli line.
"Duty comes first, Alessio. Everything else is secondary,"
he had drilled into me. Emotions were a liability, a dangerous distraction in the face of the responsibilities I carried. Love was a luxury I couldn't afford.
But then… there was Rosie.
The flames in the fireplace crackled softly, casting a warm, golden light across the study. It was well past midnight, and yet here I was, seated at my desk, staring at the parchment in front of me—the contract Rosie and I had just signed.
I should have waited until the morning. There was no logical reason for me to rush into that room and have her sign it right then and there. Yet I couldn't stop myself. Something about her made me act impulsively, which was unlike me.
I leaned back in my chair, my fingers drumming on the armrest. Why her?
What was it about Rosie Rossano that had me breaking my own rules?
The moment I left her room, that question echoed in my mind. My thoughts drifted to the first time I saw her—no, not in the garden, but earlier that night, at the ballroom.
She had been speaking to Anton de Luca, the eldest son of Baron de Luca. That was the first moment I truly noticed her. Her movements were different—bold, confident, even as she stood amongst the nobility.
She didn't behave like the other women at the ball, who fluttered their fans and cast furtive glances my way. No, Rosie was fully immersed in her conversation, her posture relaxed, her eyes unflinching.
Intriguing, I thought.
And then, hours later, in the garden, she was in my arms—defenseless, vulnerable. But even in that moment, she didn't react as I expected. I remembered the way her dress was disheveled, revealing her knees.
My hands had brushed against her thighs as I caught her, her legs wrapping around me as she stumbled.
The touch of her...
It wasn't just her physical form that caught my attention—though it would be a lie to say that her softness, the warmth of her skin beneath my fingers, hadn't stirred something within me. What surprised me most was her reaction.
There was no shame, no embarrassment. It was almost as though she had expected it—as if this wasn't her first time being held like that by a man. Her calmness, her ease... it both amused and intrigued me.
The stars overhead illuminated the garden, and for a brief moment, time seemed to slow. Her breathless expression, her body close to mine—there was something raw and intimate about it, something that felt... right.
When I returned to my estate that night, the memory of her lingered. I ordered Lucan, my most trusted guard, to investigate her.
I had to know more. Who was she?
Why did she approach me in the garden?
Was it truly a coincidence, or had it been orchestrated by Viscount Dante?
Lucan had been thorough. Rosie Rossano was no stranger to noble circles, but her connection to Viscount Dante was a curiosity. A distant relation by marriage, yet she lived under his roof.
I suspected they were working together.
After all, Viscount Dante was known for his manipulative schemes.
And Rosie—well, her presence in the garden could have easily been a ploy. Yet, even as I considered it, the memory of holding her distracted me, her body pressed against mine as if she had trusted me, even for just a moment.
A few days later, I heard whispers that Rosie would be attending Duke Angelo's ball. I decided to go. I told myself it was to keep an eye on her, but deep down, I knew there was more. I was still trying to understand her, to figure out why I couldn't get her out of my head.
When I arrived at the estate, the rumors of her upcoming marriage to Anton de Luca reached my ears. My suspicions about her plotting with Viscount Dante began to fade. If she had been sent to manipulate me, why would she be engaged to de Luca's son? It didn't add up.
As I watched her converse with Viscount Dante at the ball, I saw something unusual. The way they spoke to each other—it wasn't the interaction of conspirators. And when I read Dante's lips, I caught his warning: "Behave." That confirmed it. She wasn't plotting anything with him.
Still, I couldn't help but keep my eyes on her. The way she moved, the subtle hints of rebellion in her posture... And then, of course, there was the balcony.
When I saw her standing there, gazing down as though she was considering jumping, I couldn't understand her. What kind of noble lady would even think of such a thing? In the eyes of the other nobles, that would be an act of shame, a lack of decorum and propriety.
Yet there she was. Bold. Unapologetic.
I acted without thinking, stopping her before she could make the leap. As I pulled her behind the curtain, holding her close to me, I felt something... different. Her body was soft, delicate, but her willpower was anything but. There was strength in her, something resilient, something that made her unpredictable.
But what truly stuck with me—the moment I couldn't get out of my mind—was when she boldly changed in front of me. She stood there,
unashamed and unbothered by my presence.
her legs exposed, her cleavage barely concealed by her slip, burned itself into my mind.She was utterly defiant, even as she stood before me, nearly naked. I couldn't stop picturing the elegant lines of her body, the soft skin that begged to be touched.
I wondered. Had she done this before?
Had she been held by another man?
The way she handled herself, the confidence... Did she know what it meant to be this vulnerable in front of someone?
Words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them.
"Has Rosie shared that moment with someone already? Does she... have someone in her life?"
I shook my head, frustrated with my own thoughts.
Why was I so consumed by this woman?
There was no reason to care about such things. She was simply a means to an end, a contract to protect both of us from the demands of others.
And yet...
The crackling of the fire brought me back to the present. The contract between Rosie and me was signed, sealed. Everything was set in motion.
So why couldn't I stop thinking about her?
I leaned back in my chair, the flickering flames casting an orange glow across the room.
Tomorrow, I will begin the preparations for our wedding.
Now, as I sit here, staring at the parchment before me—the contract we had signed—I wondered why I had brought her to my home.
Why couldn't I forget the way she had looked at me when she boldly changed in front of me, unashamed, defiant?
Why did the feel of her body against mine, the softness of her skin, linger in my mind long after she had gone?
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.
Rosie Rossano was dangerous, not because of any political plot, but because she made me question things I had long since sworn off.
Duty, power, control—these were my priorities. Not love, not emotion.
And yet, with her... it wasn't that simple.
I was pulled from my thoughts by a knock at the door.
"Enter," I called out, already knowing who it was.
Lucan stepped into the room, his expression as controlled as ever. He closed the door behind him, standing at attention before addressing me.
"Your Grace, I've gathered more information on Miss Rossano, as you requested,"
Lucan began. In his tone neutral, and carried an undertone of caution.
I leaned back in my chair, gesturing for him to continue.
"It's her nature and attitude, Your Grace. She's unlike other noblewomen. She's bold, speaks her mind without fear, and disregards many of the unspoken rules of our society. This has caught the attention of many in the nobility."
I remained silent, my gaze steady on Lucan, who seemed to choose his next words carefully.
"She's caused quite a few commotions,"
he continued.
"Before she arrived in your care, there were already several scandals surrounding her. Nothing substantial enough to damage her family's standing, but enough to keep the tongues of the court wagging."
My eyes narrowed slightly.
"Scandals?" I repeated.
"Yes," Lucan nodded.
"There are rumors… unsettling ones. Amongst the nobility, it's said that she's brazen, with no regard for propriety. Some claim she's had physical relationships with every man she's ever talked to."
He paused, glancing at my reaction before continuing.
"They call her the nobility's great temptress, Your Grace."
My fist tightened on the armrest of my chair, though I kept my expression cold and unreadable.
Lucan hesitated for a moment, then added, "There are even whispers that she—"
"Enough."
My voice cut through the air like a blade.
Lucan straightened immediately, though his eyes still held a flicker of concern.
"Your Grace—"
"I know what you're about to say," I interrupted, my tone dangerously low.
"And I will not hear it."
"She's known as—"
"A whore?" I finished for him, my voice colder than I intended.
Lucan lowered his head, knowing better than to push further.
There was a moment of tense silence. The room seemed to grow heavier as I held Lucan's gaze. I knew what he was trying to do.
He was warning me, trying to protect me from any scandal that might arise from my association with Rosie. But Lucan, like the rest of the nobles, couldn't see past the rumors, and couldn't look beyond the surface.
"Yes, that is what they call her,"
I said quietly, though there was a simmering edge to my words.
"But I am not a man who places value in idle gossip, Lucan. I will judge her by my own observations, not by the malicious whispers of others."
Lucan hesitated, but nodded. "As you wish, Your Grace. But I urge caution. She's unpredictable."
"Unpredictable, yes,"
I agreed, my mind drifting back to her boldness on the balcony, her defiance in my presence.
"But that's what makes her… different."
Lucan didn't reply, knowing he had said all he could.
"Leave me," I ordered, and he gave a respectful bow before exiting the room.
As the door closed behind him, I sat back, letting my thoughts settle. Rosie Rossano was surrounded by scandal and rumors, but I had seen something else in her—something that made me question everything I thought I knew about women, about nobility, and about myself.
Unpredictable. Dangerous. And yet… intriguing.
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In Rosie's Room.
The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of my room, casting soft rays across the floor.
My head felt heavy with thoughts, memories of the contract, and the strange, unexpected tension that lingered between the Duke and me.
I wasn't sure if it was the contract itself, the rush of it all, or the way his eyes had lingered on me, as though he was trying to figure out something even I didn't understand about myself.
I blinked away the last remnants of sleep, the steady hum of activity outside my door catching my attention. Servants. Moving quickly, shuffling and whispering—something was happening.
Curiosity got the better of me. I slipped out of bed, tying my robe around my waist, and opened the door slightly. The hallway was bustling with maids and footmen, all busy with preparations, though for what, I wasn't sure.
As soon as the servants saw me, they hurried over, offering assistance, but their urgency felt different today. There was a sense of tension, something unspoken in the air.
"Good morning, Miss Rossano," one of the maids said with a small bow, her eyes downcast.
"Shall we assist you in getting ready for the day?"
I nodded, though the unease in my chest grew. Something was off.
As they helped me dress, there was a soft knock at the door. A message from the butler: Viscount Dante was here.
The knot in my stomach tightened. Why was he here? He had no reason to come unless...
I pushed the thought aside, focusing on the present. The servants finished their work swiftly, and before long, I was ready. The weight of Viscount Dante's presence pressed down on me as I made my way to the reception room.
Reception Hall
The moment I stepped into the hall, his voice reached me. Sharp. Demeaning.
"You are a disgrace," he spat, his eyes narrowing as soon as he saw me.
"I have given you everything, and this is how you repay me? Flitting about like some... some shameless woman!"
I stood tall, but inside, his words stung. It was the same old song. I had never been enough for him, no matter how hard I tried. His contempt was palpable, and I knew better than to interrupt. He would finish when he was ready.
"You've embarrassed me and this family with your reckless behavior, your... refusal to fall in line. And now, this?"
His hand gestured vaguely, but I knew what he meant. The marriage contract.
"Do you think the Duke of Cavelli will protect you from the consequences of your actions forever?"
I said nothing, keeping my expression neutral. I had learned long ago that words would only inflame him further.
"Ungrateful," he hissed. "You—"
But before he could continue, there was a sudden shift in the air. Footsteps. Firm, unyielding.
I glanced toward the door and there he was—the Duke.
Alessio Cavelli strode into the room with purpose, his presence instantly commanding the space. Viscount Dante straightened, though the anger was still evident on his face.
He wasn't used to being interrupted, but he knew better than to show open defiance in front of the Grand Duke.
"Your Grace," Dante greeted, though his tone lacked the usual politeness.
"I didn't expect to see you so early."
The Duke's gaze swept over the room, pausing briefly on me before returning to Viscount Dante. His expression was unreadable, cold even, but there was a fire in his eyes that I hadn't seen before.
"You're on my estate, Viscount," Alessio said, his voice calm but laced with authority.
"If you wish to speak to Miss Rossano, you do so with my permission. And you will do so with respect."
Viscount Dante bristled at the words, his jaw tightening, but he held his tongue. He knew better than to challenge the Duke in his own home.
Alessio's gaze flicked to me for a brief moment. Something passed between us—a silent understanding. He was offering protection, whether I had asked for it or not.
As Dante's hand was caught by the Duke, his expression twisted into one of outrage and disbelief. He yanked his hand back, glaring at the Duke with a look of indignation.
"How dare you interfere in my affairs!"
Dante spat, his voice rising.
"She is my responsibility, not yours. You have no relation to her!"
The Duke remained calm, his piercing gaze fixed on Dante.
"She is under my protection now. That is all the relation you need to know."
Dante's face flushed with anger.
"Protection? You're bringing scandal to your own estate by keeping her here! She's already engaged to Sir Anton. There are rumors swirling around her—everyone knows about her so-called disgrace at the ball. A girl like Rosie, barely nineteen, with a reputation already tarnished—her staying here, in the Grand Duke's household, with you..."
He didn't say it outright, but the implication was clear. A young woman like Rosie, with her questionable image, Living under the roof of a powerful man like Grand Duke Alessio—especially when he was only twenty-four—would set tongues wagging.
It would be a scandal, not just for Dante, but for the Duke as well. Dante's eyes flashed with triumph, as if he had cornered the Duke.
"The gossip will spread like wildfire, tarnishing not only her name, but yours as well. What difference would it make to her? Her reputation is already ruined! But for you, Grand Duke, this could be a disaster."
Dante's words hit me like stones, each one sharper than the last.
I stood frozen, my heart pounding, trying to breathe past the suffocating weight of his accusations.
It was clear—he didn't care about the damage he inflicted on me. He never had.
All that mattered to him was his image, his name, and avoiding any scandal that could tarnish it. And now, he was using that same fear of scandal to pressure the Duke into sending me away.
The room felt thick with tension, so heavy I could almost feel it pressing down on me. Dante stood tall, smug even, as if he had already won.
He thought the Duke would fold under the weight of his threats, that he would see the logic and dismiss me as if I were nothing.
But the Duke... his expression didn't change.Not even a flicker of doubt crossed his face.
He took a step forward, positioning himself fully between me and Dante, like an unbreakable barrier. I almost held my breath.
When he spoke, his voice was low but so steady, so sure, it made the air around us freeze.
"I do not concern myself with rumors, Viscount. And I do not take advice from men who treat their wards as bargaining tools."
I could feel the shock roll off Dante, see it in his eyes as they widened in disbelief.
For a moment, he was completely speechless. The Duke's words were like a slap across the face.
"Rosie's engagement to Sir Anton is no longer your concern. As I've said, she is under my protection now, and nothing you say will change that."
Dante's face twisted with frustration as he struggled to find his voice again.
"But the rumors—"
"Let them talk," the Duke cut him off, his tone ice-cold, final.
"Rumors fade. Strength and integrity do not."
My heart was racing, thudding so loudly in my chest I was sure they could hear it. I stood there, completely stunned.
No one—no one—had ever stood up for me like this. Not against Dante. Not against anyone.
The Duke's calmness, his unwavering stance, was... unbelievable
He wasn't just shielding me from Dante's fury; he was protecting me from the storm of gossip swirling outside these walls, from the judgments of a world I was barely holding onto.
Viscount Dante's frustration was palpable.
He looked at me, his eyes burning with fury, but there was nothing more he could do.
With one last furious glance, he turned and stormed out of the reception hall, the door slamming so hard it shook the walls.
And then, silence.
I stayed where I was, struggling to process everything that had just happened.
The Duke had... defended me. And not just with words—he'd gone head-to-head with Dante, refused to back down, and took the brunt of it.
He had put himself on the line, his reputation, for me.
But why?
I swallowed, my voice barely a whisper as I turned to face him. "Why did you do that?"
He looked at me with those same cold, calculating eyes, as if he hadn't just gone to war with Dante.
As if this whole thing hadn't affected him in the slightest. But there was something... something in his gaze that I couldn't quite read.
"Because I could," he said, his voice steady, almost indifferent.
He paused, his eyes locking onto mine, and then, softer this time, almost as if it were meant for me alone, he added, "And because I don't tolerate injustice."
And just like that, he turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the hall, leaving me standing there, completely undone.
My thoughts were a tangled mess—gratitude, confusion, and something else... something I couldn't quite name.
Why would he risk so much for me, a girl he barely knows?
The question burned in my mind, unanswered, and as I stood there in the empty room, the silence seemed heavier than it had been before....
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Grand Duke's Study
I strode into my study, my expression carefully crafted to reveal nothing as I approached the waiting butler.
"Your Grace," he greeted with a respectful bow. "I trust you slept well?"
I waved a hand dismissively. "Well enough. Now, what is the status of the wedding preparations?"
The butler straightened, surprised flashing across his features.
"The wedding, Your Grace? Preparations are proceeding as planned. The entire estate has been abuzz since this morning, making arrangements for the ceremony and reception."
I nodded, my gaze steady. "Excellent. I want everything to be ready within the week."
At that moment, Lucan, who had been standing silently in the corner, finally spoke up.
"Forgive me, Your Grace, but a week? I was unaware you had set a date for your nuptials. To whom are you betrothed?"
Turning to face my loyal guard, a slight smirk played on my lips.
"To Lady Rossano, of course."
Lucan's eyes widened, his composure slipping for a rare moment.
"Miss Rossano? But, Your Grace, I thought—"
"You thought?" I interrupted, amusement lacing my tone. "Clearly, you did not think enough."
Sensing the shift in the air, the butler cleared his throat. "Shall I inform the staff to accelerate the preparations, Your Grace?"
"Yes, do so. I want everything in order by the end of the week. This wedding is to take place as soon as possible."
"At once, Your Grace," the butler replied, bowing deeply before hurrying out of the room.
Lucan remained, confusion etched on his brow. "Your Grace, if I may... Why the sudden rush? And Miss Rossano, of all people? I had gathered that she was—"
"Exactly who I want to marry," I said, my gaze unwavering. "She is unpredictable, yes, but that is precisely why she is the perfect choice."
Lucan opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly struggling for the right words. "But, sir, the rumors—"
"I care not for the rumors," I snapped, my voice sharp. "Rosie Rossano is now my betrothed, and the sooner we are wed, the better."
With that, I turned and walked towards the window, effectively ending the conversation.
Lucan, still baffled, could only stand in silence, likely wondering just what I had planned.
For the viscount and the emperor to stop interrupting our plans, it was crucial to marry quickly.
Rosie, still a teenager, who cannot marry anyone without the viscount's approval—and his recent behavior told me he would never approve of this marriage.
I gazed out the window, watching the bustling estate as preparations unfolded. The weight of urgency pressed on me.
The sooner this wedding happened, the sooner I could shield myself from the emperor's demands and the viscount's interference.
Lucan shifted uncomfortably before speaking. "Your Grace, if I may —what makes you so certain Miss Rossano will agree?"
I turned, my expression hardening.
"She's intelligent. She'll see the advantage in this arrangement. This marriage offers her freedom from the viscount, just as it offers me an escape from other noble entanglements. It's purely practical."
Lucan frowned. "But she's still a teenager, Your Grace. The viscount's approval is necessary."
"I know." I replied, feeling a twinge of concern.
Lucan studied me for a moment before bowing slightly.
"As you say, Your Grace. I'll take my leave."
He exited the study, closing the door quietly behind him. Alone, I allowed my thoughts to drift, though they circled back to Rosie.
She needed to navigate her family's expectations, and I couldn't ignore that.
I had prepared the papers for the legal transfer of authority over Rosie. Once she signed, she would become my responsibility. As her guardian, I could make decisions for her, free from the viscount's meddling.
As I stood at the window, watching the flurry of preparations below, a shadow of doubt crept into my thoughts. I had made the decision swiftly, calculating the benefits and believing it to be a rational move for both of us. Yet, there was something unnerving about how easily Rosie had slipped into my plans—almost too easily.
The papers were ready. Once she signed, I would hold complete authority over her, free from the viscount's interference. She'd have no choice but to follow through with the marriage.
But despite my certainty, a part of me wondered—even though we already signed the contract last night but would she accept me as her guardian? Rosie was unpredictable, fiercely independent in a way I hadn't anticipated. What if she refused? What if, in seeking freedom from Dante, she defied me as well?
My grip on the windowsill tightened as I pushed the thought aside. No, she was smart. She would see the practicality in this arrangement. But even so, doubt gnawed at the edges of my mind.
A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see one of my stewards enter, bowing deeply before speaking.
"Your Grace, Lady Rossano is waiting to meet you in the drawing room. She... requested to speak with you privately."
"Very well," I replied, my voice steady.
"Tell her I will be there shortly."
....
End of Chapter 4.1
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