JoseMary

She was the price of betrayal.she was served the punishment she didn’t see coming.

When Aria Monroe's father and step mom sealed a deal with the moretti family , she’s forced to replace her step-sister and to enter into an arranged marriage with Lucien Moretti, the ruthless heir,the most feared mafia family in New York. Cold. Possessive. Deadly. He makes no promises of love—only ownership.

When forced by her family, Aria's freedom was signed away. But marrying Lucien means stepping into a world of velvet lies and blood-stained truths, where trust is a luxury and affection and weapon.

She’s fire—beautiful, defiant, and untamed.
He’s ice—unforgiving, controlling, and consumed by vengeance.
Together, they burn.
 
Lucien doesn’t want love — he wants control.
Aria doesn’t want a husband — she wants freedom.
But the longer they’re bound together, the deeper the obsession grows.

Secrets. Betrayal. Passion.
In a world of blood and loyalty, Aria must decide:
Is she a pawn in a deadly game… or the queen about to take the king?

And as secrets unravel and enemies close in, passion becomes war, and their bond teeters between destruction and desire.
In a world ruled by power and violence, can love ever be more than a blood price?

His Bride,His Blood Price

Chapter 17 — Start of Something

It had become a habit in the Moretti estate — rising before the house did, when the halls were still quiet and the weight of her last name hadn't settled on her shoulders yet.

She didn't expect to see him already awake.

Lucien was seated at the small breakfast table in the sunroom off the eastern corridor — a private little space with tall windows, lace curtains, and a garden view that made it feel a world away from mafia politics.

He was in a dark T-shirt. Hair slightly tousled. Reading a newspaper he didn't seem all that focused on.

Something flickered across his face — recognition, maybe something warmer — before he tilted his head slightly.

They didn't speak for the first few minutes.

Clara arrived silently with breakfast: poached eggs, buttered toast, sliced tomatoes, and another cup of coffee for Aria.

Lucien didn't move while she poured.

But his eyes followed Aria every time she reached for something.

Finally, she broke the silence with a quiet tease.

"You eat like someone who's constantly planning someone's death."

Lucien arched a brow, his mouth curving slightly. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

His gaze lingered on her lips for a moment too long.

Then he asked, almost casually, "Did you sleep?"

He gave a slight grunt of acknowledgment. "After last night, I thought you might have questions."

"But not today," she added, taking another sip of coffee. "Today I just want eggs and peace."

Lucien chuckled — actually chuckled — and shook his head.

"You really don't behave like a woman married into the mafia."

"And you don't behave like a man who let her be."

There was something about mornings like this that unnerved him.

Sitting across from him in a soft cream blouse, hair pulled loosely back, fingers tapping against a porcelain cup like she'd always belonged here.

She wasn't trying to seduce or control or manipulate.

And that, in itself, was disarming.

He hesitated — not something he did often.

Then: "Last night. What you asked me—about Sofia…"

She held his gaze, not interrupting.

"I told you I thought I loved her."

His voice stayed even. Controlled. But quieter now.

"I loved the idea of her. And I mistook that for something deeper. I didn't know the difference until—" He stopped.

But he saw the way her lips parted. The way she inhaled softly like she heard it anyway.

"You didn't have to tell me that," she said.

And then, before he could say anything else, she changed the subject with a half-smile.

"You're going to ruin me for normal breakfasts."

He smirked. "You think you're going back to normal?"

Then she smiled — soft, but full of meaning.

"No," she said. "I don't think I ever was."

His Bride, His Blood Price