Until He Breaks Me

In the beginning, she met a man…

Lilith

Lilith Russo wanted everything life could offer—money, fame, power—and she had it all. But as she stood in front of her father, fuming with disbelief, none of those things could shield her from the blow he had just delivered.

“You cannot make me get married to him, Father!” she yelled, her chest heaving. “I have other things to do with my life, and Rayne De Luca of all people? He belongs to a rival family. What is going on in your head?”

Her breath came in sharp bursts as she stared him down. The very idea that he would sell her off like a peace treaty was absurd. She wanted to scream. Throw fists. Rip out her braids. Strangle her so-called fiancé before she even met him.

No one was listening—no one ever had.

The Russos dealt in wines, and, of course, in other darker dealings that weren’t clean by any measure. They were one of the two families that ruled Crown City—and Italy—through whispers and blood. The Mafia. The De Lucas were the second. And apparently, Lilith was the pawn to bind them.

“We’ve been at each other’s necks for too long,” her father said coldly. “It’s time to end the dispute.”

“So your brilliant plan is marrying me off?” she asked, eyes wide in disbelief.

“You will do as I say, Lilith. There is no disputing.”

The ground threatened to split beneath her feet. Her head felt like it was about to collapse in on itself. “You can’t do this to me,” she whispered.

“I can. And I have. Your fiancé will be here with his family tonight. Prepare yourself.”

“What?!” Her voice cracked.

“My decision is final.”

“Of course it is,” she spat. “You never listen to anyone anyway.”

Lilith stormed out of his office, ignoring the warnings ringing in her head. She knew there’d be consequences for raising her voice at her father. The whip marks on her back still reminded her of what happened when she disobeyed. But he also knew she didn’t give a damn. Maybe that’s why he thought she was perfect for this arrangement—stubborn and unrelenting. Everything her twin sister, Riya, wasn’t.

Lilith was the son her father never had. And for a moment, she had dared to dream that he might let her take over the empire. Foolish, wishful thinking.

“Lilith!” Riya’s voice rang out from the dining room as Lilith grabbed a fruit to munch on.

“Hey, sis,” she replied dryly.

“Tristan said Dad called you. What did he say?”

Lilith shot a glare at Tristan, her father’s bodyguard, who had the decency to look away. The idiot never knew when to shut up.

“If he told you Dad called for me, why didn’t he tell you why?”

“Stop being difficult,” Riya said. “Are you really getting married to Rayne De Luca?”

The excitement in her sister’s voice was almost pathetic.

“According to your father, yes.”

“You don’t say,” Riya gasped. “The Rayne De Luca? The most eligible bachelor in Italy?”

Lilith rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No, you’re the one being dramatic. You should be dancing—you snagged the most prized possession in Crown.”

“You’re insane.”

“Says the one sulking around like she’s being buried, not married.”

“Just shut up, Riya.”

“How many times have I told you not to raise your voice at your sister, Lilith Russo?”

Amelia’s cool voice floated into the kitchen like a dagger. Lilith’s stomach clenched.

“Good evening, Mum,” Riya chirped, earning a fond pat on the head.

“Good evening, Amelia,” Lilith replied flatly.

Amelia scoffed. She still hated the name after ten years.

“That is no way to address your mother.”

“Thankfully, I don’t have one.”

Lilith took another bite from her apple, avoiding the dagger stare she knew was fixed on her.

“Your father says you’re getting married.”

“Guess you finally get to throw me out,” Lilith said sharply.

“We have a wedding to prepare. Set aside your childish grudge, will you?”

Lilith laughed bitterly. That same childish grudge had left deeper scars than any whip.

Her voice betrayed nothing. She smiled sweetly. “Of course, Amelia. I guess we should prepare for wedding shopping.”

“We should,” Amelia replied, equally cold.

Lilith returned to her room—her only sanctuary. She had painted it herself, pale blue walls lined with seascapes. Her easel and paints were tucked beneath her desk, splatters staining the floor. Her father had once called it a stupid hobby. She didn’t care.

With a long breath, she picked up her brush and let her frustration bleed into the canvas.

She was getting married.

---

Twenty minutes later, Amelia stood in her doorway, holding up a deep blue dinner dress with a grin.

“Isn’t it beautiful? Riya and I picked it. Perfect for tonight’s introductions.”

Riya nodded eagerly behind her. “It’ll bring out your sexy features. And your eyes! I’ve always wished for a body like yours.”

Lilith didn’t respond. She never did. Riya wouldn’t understand.

“Thanks for the dress. Put it down and leave,” Lilith said coolly.

“You’ll wear it now,” Amelia said, “Your fiancé will be here in twenty minutes.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lilith growled. “I’ll wear it. Now leave my room.”

Amelia glared at her but said nothing. When the door shut, Lilith stared down at the dress with pure loathing.

---

Exactly twenty minutes later, she descended into the dining room in faded jeans, a white crop top, and her braids left loose—exactly the opposite of what Amelia had suggested.

“Lilith!” her mother shrieked, horrified.

But Lilith only had eyes for him.

Rayne De Luca.

He was everything he was supposed to be—tall, devastatingly handsome, a presence that exuded danger and dominance. His cerulean eyes locked with hers, and a smirk curved his lips.

“What the hell is this, Lilith?!” Amelia hissed.

Rayne didn’t look away. “Interesting.”

Panic fluttered in Amelia’s voice. Riya looked like she was about to faint. Her father’s jaw ticked, rage pulsing through his silence.

But Lilith didn’t care.

Rayne’s gaze dipped from her crop top to her jeans, and his smirk deepened.

“Interesting,” he repeated.

“Mr De Luca, please pardon my daughter,” Amelia stammered. “This—this is not her usual behavior.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Mrs. Russo. I appreciate that your daughter came in something she feels comfortable in.”

Lilith blinked. Her smirk faltered. What?

“Have a seat, Ms. Russo. Or would you prefer I call you by name?” he asked.

Her feet moved of their own accord, taking the only available seat—beside him. Her mind raced. Why wasn’t he furious?

“You should drop the formalities, Mr. De Luca,” her father said with a forced smile. “After all, we’re going to be family.”

“You should listen to my father,” Lilith said with venom. “Formalities are outdated.”

“Of course, Princess. Calling you by name will do just fine.”

The nickname sliced through her like glass. A memory flickered—painful and dark.

“Don’t call me Princess,” she snapped.

Rayne stared at her, amused. Then, with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes, he said, “As you wish, Lilith.”

Her name on his lips sounded like a warning.

He was smiling, but beneath that smile was a darkness that mirrored her own. A quiet reminder that though they were about to become partners, they were still, very much, enemies.