35. Thirty-Five #3
“Enough about family politics,” Luna said, patting her belly. “Tell me about the honeymoon. Are you two actually taking one, or is that too conventional for the city’s most dangerous couple?”
Arrow’s hand slid higher on my thigh, his fingers playing at the edge of my dress’s slit. “We have plans,” he said vaguely.
I raised an eyebrow. “We do?” This was news to me.
His thumb traced small circles on my inner thigh, making it hard to concentrate. “Lake Como. Private villa. Two weeks.”
“Italy?” I couldn’t hide my surprise. We’d never discussed honeymoon plans.
“My mother was Italian,” Arrow explained, his eyes never leaving mine. “There’s a property there that’s been in the family for generations. No one’s used it in years.”
Atlas whistled low. “The Bellagio estate? I thought your father sold that after your mother died.”
“He tried,” Arrow said, his voice hardening slightly. “I bought it before he could.”
I studied his face, trying to read between the lines.
Arrow rarely spoke about his mother, and when he did, it was always with a careful neutrality that masked deeper wounds.
The fact that he’d kept the property, specifically to preserve it, had my chest tightening.
I wanted to ask him more about the villa, about his mother, about this part of himself he’d never shown me before.
But something in his expression warned me not to push. Not here. Not with an audience.
“Lake Como sounds beautiful,” I said instead, keeping my voice neutral even as his fingers continued their torturous path up my thigh.
Luna’s face lit up. “Oh, you'll love it! Atlas took me to Italy last year. The food, the wine, the views . . .” She sighed dreamily. “It’s the perfect place to . . . recover from a wedding.”
The way she said “recover” made me think she knew exactly what kind of wedding night Arrow and I would have—violent, passionate, and probably ending with one of us bleeding. The thought sent a shiver down my spine that Arrow must have felt, because his grip tightened possessively.
“I’ve never been to Italy,” I admitted. “My father doesn’t trust Italians.”
Atlas barked a laugh. “Your father is Italian.”
“Exactly.” I grinned. “He knows what they’re capable of.”
Atlas laughed again, louder this time, and clinked his glass against mine. “I like her, Arrow. She’s got balls.”
“More than most men in this city,” Arrow agreed, his hand still tracing dangerous patterns on my thigh under the table.
The conversation flowed more easily after that, drifting from wedding details to Luna’s pregnancy cravings to Atlas’s latest business ventures.
I found myself relaxing despite everything, enjoying the strange normalcy of dinner with another couple—even if both men at the table had body counts higher than their investment portfolios.
Arrow leaned close to me, his breath hot against my ear.
“You’re doing well,” he murmured. “They like you.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not trying to impress your friends.”
“Liar,” he whispered, teeth grazing my earlobe. “You’ve been on your best behavior all night.”
Before I could retort, Luna set down her spoon and fixed me with an intent stare. “Can I steal you for a minute? Girl talk.”
Arrow’s hand tightened on my thigh, but I ignored him, sliding my chair back. “Of course.”
Luna led me toward the ladies’ room, her hand resting on her swollen belly as she walked. Once inside the plush bathroom with its marble countertops and fresh orchids, she checked under the stalls to make sure we were alone.
“Are you okay?” she asked once she was satisfied we had privacy. “Really okay?”
The question caught me off guard. Most people in our world didn’t ask such direct questions, preferring to dance around intentions with veiled threats and loaded compliments.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically, then caught myself. Something about Luna’s genuine concern made me want to be honest. “Actually, I don’t know. I’m about to marry into the family that killed my brother.”
Luna nodded, no judgment in her eyes. “I get it. When I first got involved with Atlas, I thought I was making a deal with the devil.” She smoothed her dress over her belly. “Sometimes I still think that.”
“But you love him,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
“Enough to have his child.” She smiled ruefully. “Love isn’t always the problem in our world. It’s everything else that comes with it.”
I leaned against the marble counter. “How do you do it? Live with someone who could kill without blinking?”
“By remembering he would kill for me first.” She studied my face. “Arrow would do the same for you. I see how he looks at you.”
“With possession, not love,” I countered.
Luna laughed softly. “In men like ours, they’re often the same thing.” She took my hands in hers. “I heard about what happened at the club. With Harley.”
My cheeks flamed. “You heard about that?”
“Everyone has,” Luna said, not unkindly. “This city runs on gossip and blood.”
I looked away, studying my reflection in the mirror. The marks on my neck were mostly hidden by the high collar of my dress, but the ghost of Arrow’s grip lingered on my skin like a memory.
“I didn’t do it to hurt him,” I lied, then corrected myself. “Okay, maybe I did. But it wasn’t just that.”
Luna leaned against the counter beside me, her pregnant belly curving gracefully. “You know what’s strange about men like Arrow and Atlas? They think they own the world because they’re dangerous. But we terrify them because we’re unpredictable.”
I laughed, the sound sharp against the bathroom’s marble surfaces. “Arrow isn’t afraid of anything.”
“He’s afraid of losing you.” Her words were simple but hit like a punch to the gut. “That’s why he’s so possessive. Why he can’t stand the thought of someone else touching you.”
“That’s not love,” I argued, though something twisted in my chest. “That’s control.”
Luna’s smile was knowing, almost sad. “In their world, love is control. Safety is control. They don’t know how to protect without possessing.
” She took my hand, her grip surprisingly strong.
“But here’s the thing about men like ours—they can learn.
They can change. If you’re strong enough to demand it. ”
I stared at her, this woman who'd somehow found her way in a world that devoured the weak. “And what if I’m not strong enough?” I asked. “What if I’m just as broken as he is?”
Luna’s smile widened. “Then you’re perfectly matched.” She checked her watch. “We should get back. They’ll start to wonder if I’ve kidnapped you.”
As we walked back to the table, Luna’s words echoed in my head. Love is control. Safety is control. Was that what Arrow was offering me? Possession disguised as protection? The thought was both comforting and terrifying.
The men stood as we approached, a gesture so old-world it almost made me laugh. Arrow’s eyes tracked every inch of me, as if checking for damage or signs of betrayal. His hand found the small of my back instantly, pulling me close to his side.
“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice casual but his eyes intent.
“Just girl talk,” I replied, squeezing Luna’s hand before returning to my seat.
The waiter appeared with another round of drinks—vodka for the men, sparkling water for Luna, and a blood-red cocktail for me that I hadn’t ordered but knew came from Arrow’s instinctive understanding of what I craved.
I took a sip, the bitter cherry and smoke coating my tongue, and caught Arrow watching me, his eyes following the movement of my throat as I swallowed.
“Where are you having it?” Luna asked.
“St. Ignatius,” Arrow answered before I could. “The cathedral on Baxter. It’s secure. Three exit points, a bell tower for snipers, and the priest owes my family his life.”
“A cathedral built to survive fire. Wasn’t it burned down twice and rebuilt each time? Seems appropriate for two families who keep trying to destroy each other, only to rise from the ashes.”
“Poetic,” I murmured, though the symbolism wasn’t lost on me.
Arrow’s choice of venue suddenly made more sense. A structure that refused to fall, no matter how many times flames tried to consume it.
Luna’s eyes sparkled as she looked at me. “You’re getting married in a fireproof cathedral with a priest who’s indebted to the Romanovs. That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
I laughed. “Romance and survival go hand in hand in this city.”
“True enough,” Atlas nodded, his hand covering Luna’s.
The way they looked at each other made something twist in my chest. Their love was undeniable, forged in fire and blood, but still somehow tender.
As if reading my thoughts, Arrow’s fingers slid higher on my thigh, his touch possessive. I glanced at him, and found his eyes already on me, dark and unreadable.
“Have you written your vows?” Luna asked, either oblivious to the tension or deliberately trying to diffuse it.
I almost choked on my drink. “Vows? You mean besides ‘I promise not to murder you in your sleep’?”
Luna and Atlas burst into laughter, the tension at the table momentarily breaking.
“You know,” Luna said, wiping a tear from her eye, “I actually thought the same thing before I married Atlas.”
“And now?” I asked, genuinely curious.
Luna’s face softened as she looked at her husband. “Now I know the vow isn’t about not killing each other. It’s about protecting each other from everyone else who wants to kill you.”
Atlas kissed her hand, his eyes never leaving her face. “That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”
I felt Arrow’s gaze on me, heavy and expectant. I turned to find him watching me.
The waiter arrived with dessert. Luna ordered tiramisu, stating that her pregnancy cravings had kicked into high gear, and a dark chocolate tart for the rest of us.
As we ate, the conversation shifted to lighter topics—Luna’s nursery plans, Atlas’s new gym downtown, the latest gossip about which crime family’s daughter had run off with a pop star.
“Did Arrow ever tell you I blackmailed him into taking me to get pregnancy tests?” Luna asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.