Because Your Love is a Negotiation

I am Rowan Donovan, the Principessa of Boston’s ruling family and the Don’s only daughter. For six years, I hid my identity, devoting myself to a penniless Julian Thorne and helping him claw his way to the top of the city’s elite.

I thought I would be his bride. Instead, he proposed to Seraphina Ricci, the heiress of a rival family, for the whole world to see.

The man who once swore me a lifetime of love knelt before another woman, pledging himself to her in a public marriage alliance.

My father, Don Donovan, confronted him. "Rowan is your woman. What the hell do you think you're doing, marrying someone else?"

Julian’s expression was cold, dismissive.

"She's a nobody, some girl off the streets. She's not fit to be my wife. She was there when I had nothing, but she can't give me the future Seraphina can."

Hiding behind the door, I felt my heart shatter. I finally understood. I was just a pawn, a piece he could discard without a second thought.

I looked at my heartbroken father and forced a bitter smile. "Papa, I gambled and lost."

I accepted the marriage my father had arranged for me long ago. But on the eve of my wedding to Cillian Kavanaugh, Julian knelt before me, his eyes wild with regret.

"Rowan, I was wrong. Please, don't marry him."

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1

The howling wind felt like it was stripping away my last illusions about love.

I gazed at my heartbroken father and forced a bitter smile. "Papa, I gambled and lost."

My father gently stroked the back of my head. "In five days, Cillian Kavanaugh will come for you."

I wiped away my tears and gave a firm nod. Once my father was gone, I returned to the silent penthouse Julian and I once shared.

Not long after, he strode in. Spotting me by the window, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, his lips brushing against my neck. His breath was hot as his hands slid expertly beneath my clothes, exploring my skin.

I sensed the feral hunger in him and went limp, letting him take what he wanted. He was a ravenous wolf, thrusting into me again and again until I was drowning in the sheer force of his need.

As I was drifting off in a daze, he kissed my cheek, his voice a low murmur. "Baby, I’ve got some cash for you. And a one-way ticket to Miami. Go take a vacation for a while."

I opened my swollen eyes, fighting to contain the storm raging inside me. "What about you?"

He gazed at me, his smile deepening. "I'll be right here waiting for you."

I gave a slight nod, dropping my gaze to hide the bitter disappointment.

He was lying. He wasn't waiting for me. He was getting married.

I am the sole heiress to the Donovan family, Boston's ruling name. And I fell for Julian Thorne when he was a nobody. For six years, I hid who I was, using my family’s influence from the shadows to build him into a king. Everyone thought I would be his queen. Instead, he cast me aside for Seraphina Ricci, the jewel of a rival family.

The scene from earlier today flashed through my mind—him on one knee before another woman, pledging his future, then tearing me down in front of my own father.

"She's a nobody, some girl off the streets, not fit to be my wife... Why should I settle for her?"

His words were knives. The knife I’d taken for him, the bullet I’d blocked—they were nothing more than rungs on the ladder he used to climb right over me.

Sensing my silence, Julian sighed, a flicker of irritation in his voice. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you. All your expenses in Miami will be covered."

He paused, his tone hardening. "But you need to stay away from Seraphina. This marriage is important, and I can't have anyone messing it up. Especially not you."

His tone was deceptively gentle, but the threat was unmistakable. I took a deep breath, met his eyes, and said, "Alright."

He let out a sigh of relief, pulling me into a tight embrace. "I'll stay with you tonight."

The words had barely left his lips when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, saw Seraphina's name, and immediately let go of me to answer.

"Darling, there’s an emergency at the club! You have to get down here and help me!"

Julian shot to his feet, snatching his car keys. He rushed out in such a hurry that he left his favorite leather jacket draped over a chair.

I stared at his retreating back, a cold numbness spreading through me. He really did care for her.

I’d always known she held a piece of his heart, but six years ago, I’d chased him anyway, consequences be damned. He was just a street punk then, the one everyone picked on, and I fought them all for him.

Once, a rival crew came looking for trouble. To get back a ledger they’d stolen, I was shoved from a shipping container at the docks, landing me with a concussion. Another time, his enemies cornered him, and I threw myself in front of a knife meant for his gut. It tore through my abdomen, leaving an ugly, puckered scar.

Back then, Julian had clutched my blood-soaked body, tears streaming down his face as he swore, "Baby, I will never let you down. Ever."

I thought he loved me. For six years, I poured every part of myself into building him up, only to be told I wasn't worthy.

If that was how he saw me, then there was no reason to love him anymore. We were done.