40. Forty #3
The question caught me off guard. My father had never been perceptive about emotions—only threats, weaknesses, and opportunities. Yet somehow, he’d seen what I was only beginning to acknowledge to myself.
“What does it matter to you?” I asked, deflecting. “You sold me. You don’t get to question what I do with what’s left of myself.”
He released my wrist abruptly, leaning back in his chair. “I didn’t sell you, Harlowe.” His voice had changed, grown quieter, almost contemplative. “I positioned you.”
I froze, the implications of his words washing over me like ice water. “What?”
“You think I’d give my only living child to the Romanovs without purpose?
” He took another sip of scotch. His eyes, so like my own, held a calculating gleam that made my blood run cold.
“You’re my daughter. My blood. Did you truly believe I would hand you over to my enemies without gaining something in return? ”
I stared at him, pieces clicking together in my mind like the tumblers of a lock. “What have you done?”
“What I’ve always done—protected our family.” He leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper. “The Romanovs think they’re gaining a foothold in our territory through this marriage. They think they’re humiliating me by taking you. But they’ve invited a viper into their nest.”
“Me,” I said, the word barely audible. “I’m the viper.”
His smile was cold, proud in a way I hadn’t seen since I was a child. “You’ve always been smarter than your brother. More ruthless. More like me.”
I felt sick, the champagne turning to acid in my stomach. “You expect me to do what? Kill Arrow on our wedding night? Poison the entire Romanov family?”
“Nothing so crude,” he replied, waving his hand dismissively. “You’re in their inner circle now. You see their operations, their weaknesses. You know who they trust, who they fear.” He leaned closer. “Information is power, Harlowe. And you’re positioned to gather more than any spy I could plant.”
The realization hit me like a physical blow. This wasn’t just an arranged marriage—this was his master plan. I was merely a chess piece he’d been positioning all along.
“You’re insane,” I whispered, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “You think I’d betray Arrow? That I’d spy for you?”
“I think you’re a Virelli before you’re anything else,” he replied calmly. “Blood always wins in the end, Harlowe.”
I felt someone approaching before I saw them—Arrow’s presence was like a gathering storm at my back. His hand slid around my waist, proprietary and warm.
“Everything alright here?” he asked, his voice deceptively casual though I could feel the tension radiating from him.
My father’s eyes flickered between us, assessing, calculating. “Just having a heart-to-heart with my daughter. Father of the bride privilege.”
Arrow’s thumb traced small circles against my hip. “The heart implies you have one, Giovanni.”
My father smiled, the expression never reaching his eyes. “We all have hearts, Romanov. Some of us just put them to better use than others.” He stood, straightening his jacket with practiced precision. “I should circulate. Can’t have people saying I’m not a gracious guest.”
As he walked away, I remained frozen, his words echoing in my mind.
You’re positioned to gather more than any spy I could plant.
I’d spent years believing my father saw me as nothing but a liability, a reminder of my mother’s weakness.
Now I realized he’d seen me as something else entirely.
A weapon he was carefully honing. The most devastating kind of betrayal wasn’t selling me to his enemies; it was expecting me to destroy them from within.
“What did he say to you?” Arrow asked as we walked away.
I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Should I tell Arrow the truth? That my father expected me to spy on him, to gather information that would eventually destroy the Romanovs? Or should I keep this revelation to myself, another secret to add to the growing collection between us?
“Harlowe,” Arrow’s voice sharpened, his fingers tightening on my waist. “What did he say?”
I looked up into his face—the sharp angles, the darkness in his eyes that matched my own. In that moment, I made my choice.
“He thinks I’m his spy,” I said quietly, watching Arrow’s expression harden. “He expects me to gather information on the Romanovs and report back to him.”
Arrow’s jaw tightened, the muscle there jumping. “And what did you tell him?”
“Nothing. You arrived before I could respond.” I met his gaze steadily. “But I wouldn’t have agreed. Whatever this is between us, I won’t betray it. Not even for my father.”
The tension in Arrow’s shoulders eased slightly, though his eyes remained watchful. “Are you sure about that? He’s your blood.”
“Blood doesn’t mean loyalty. Not anymore.” I took a deep breath, feeling something break and reform inside me. “He killed Luca as surely as the Romanovs did. He watched my mother fade away and did nothing. And now he wants to use me like a weapon. That’s not family. That’s not love.”
Arrow studied my face, searching for deception. I held his gaze, letting him see whatever truth he needed to find there. Finally, he nodded, his hand sliding up to cup my face.
“Giovanni is more dangerous than I thought,” he said quietly. “If he’s planning something—“
“He’s always planning something.” I leaned into his touch despite myself. “The question is what.”
Arrow’s thumb brushed across my cheekbone. “We should leave. Now. Before anything escalates.”
I glanced around the room, noting how the lines between families had blurred slightly as the evening progressed. Alcohol and forced civility were working their temporary magic, though tension still hummed beneath the surface like an electrical current.
“If we leave now, it’ll look suspicious,” I said. “Like we’re planning something.”
“We are planning something,” Arrow replied, his voice low. “Getting you out alive before your father decides tonight’s the night to rewrite the terms of our arrangement.”
I looked across the room to where my father stood, surrounded by his capos once more.
His eyes met mine briefly, a flash of something like satisfaction in them before he turned away.
A chill ran down my spine. The look in my father’s eyes made me uneasy.
I recognized that calculating gaze—it was the same one he wore before ordering hits, before destroying rival families.
It was the look of a man who believed he was three steps ahead of everyone else.
“We need to stay,” I whispered to Arrow. “If we leave now, he might accelerate whatever he’s planning.”
Arrow’s jaw tightened. “Fine. One hour. Then we’re gone.”
I nodded, letting him guide me back to where Atlas and Luna stood. Luna’s eyes immediately searched my face, concern evident in her expression.
“Everything okay?” she asked quietly.
“My father thinks I’m his sleeper agent,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Apparently selling me to the Romanovs was his master plan all along. He expects me to spy for him.”
Atlas’s expression hardened. “That complicates things.”
“It changes nothing,” Arrow said firmly, his hand still possessive at my waist. “The wedding proceeds as planned.”
Luna touched my arm gently. “Are you alright with that?”
I considered her question carefully. Was I alright with marrying Arrow, knowing my father expected me to betray him? Knowing that both men saw me as a means to an end? The answer surprised even me.
“Yes,” I said. “Whatever game my father thinks he’s playing, I’m done being his pawn.”