6. Juliette
Juliette
D ante DiLustro. That devil was persistent.
And so was his cousin Basilio DiLustro. Of course, once his cousin learned of Wynter’s identity, mine was uncovered too. Small goddamn world.
I’d rather go to my own funeral than attend Basilio DiLustro’s wedding. Yet, here I was. Wynter was lucky I loved her. It was the only reason I was here today, preparing to endure Dante DiLustro in the same fucking city as me.
Who in the fuck did he think he was? A goddamn nutjob, just like all the rest of the DiLustros. Asking my father to marry me. I wished I had cut off his balls in his casino nine months ago rather than just kicking them.
Nine months since that incident, and he had the balls—I graciously let him keep—to ask my father for my hand in marriage. Who in their right mind even wanted to marry someone who humiliated you?
DiLustro apparently.
“You should feel flattered he wants to marry you,” Dad stated casually, his eyes studying me.
“Fuck flattery. I hope you said no fucking way,” I screeched. I could feel panic swelling in my chest. “I’m not marrying that crazy bastard.”
The vein in my father’s neck pulsed as he clenched his jaw. “You should have thought of that before you and the girls became thieves.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s ancient history,” I remarked wryly. “You can’t hold that against us forever.”
“Juliette, I swear to God,” he hissed. “Put your bridesmaid dress on and let’s get to this fucking wedding.”
Wynter was getting married, and truthfully, we should have already been on our way to the church. Instead, I was jerking Dad’s chain—his words, not mine.
I shook my head. “I cannot believe you’re letting today happen. Wynter shouldn’t be marrying that psycho.”
“Jules, stop it. Wynter worked it out with your dad,” Davina chimed in, cradling her newborn.
It was a shock to all of us to learn Davina and my dad ended up getting married.
In secret, nonetheless. Wynter forgave them in the next breath, and while I wasn’t exactly mad, the idea of my best friend as my stepmother did rub me the wrong way sometimes.
Either way, we all got over it and moved on.
Like I said, it had been a very long nine months since The Incident.
And now we had a new catastrophe on our hands. Wynter’s wedding to Basilio DiLustro. Our family would forever be connected to the DiLustros. That was wrong on so many levels.
“Wynter’s my cousin,” I muttered. “I want what’s best for her. And this wedding is not it.”
Honestly, I couldn’t believe that Dad didn’t use the baby as an excuse to delay the wedding. It would have bought us more time to get Wynter out of Basilio DiLustro’s clutches.
“My niece decided that it is,” Dad argued. I started to suspect he might have aged a decade over the last nine months. I, along with Wynter and our best friends, might have been to blame.
The baby cooed in Davina’s arms and Dad’s features instantly softened.
“What’s my little boy up to?” He wrapped his arm around Davina and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then on little Aiden’s forehead. Davina was glowing, happiness evident in her smile.
“Sleeping, eating, and pooping,” she teased, then wrinkled her nose. “I think pooping has just happened.”
“Want me to change his diaper?” he offered. I shook my head at the image those words painted. Then I realized what he was doing. Nobody ever volunteered to change a poopy diaper. He was changing subjects.
“No, no, no,” I protested, glaring at my father. “Don’t you dare leave me hanging. What did you tell that fucking psychopath?”
Davina gave me a scolding look. She didn’t want us cursing around the baby. As if he could talk. I had bigger problems than a baby that might one day utter a curse word. It was called Dante fucking DiLustro.
“I told him that it was enough for one DiLustro to be married into the family, and that there wouldn’t be another one.”
“Thank fucking God,” I muttered.
* * *
Wynter’s wedding was a lavish affair. A farce about to explode.
Wynter kept glancing Basilio’s way. She didn’t seem all that unhappy, despite the fact that Basilio kidnapped her and forced this wedding. The guy was seriously obsessed.
If I were Wynter, I’d have told Dad to just shoot him in the church. The fucker dragged her down the aisle to the altar. Literally dragged her.
That would never—fucking ever—be me.
A cold awareness touched my skin and I turned my head to find Dante’s eyes on me. His eyes coasted down my body, leaving a trail of ice and something else I couldn’t quite pinpoint in their wake.
I gritted my teeth and glared at him, making it clear that I disliked him.
It didn’t seem to deter him though. His eyes were on me pretty much through the entire dinner.
I ignored him, but every single hair on my body stood up in warning.
I wished there was a way to get my hands on a gun and shoot him.
I’d just feign clumsiness. Oops, my bad .
As if he could read my thoughts, he grinned.
That smug, arrogant smirk that I wanted to wipe off his face, despite his good looks.
I really wished he weren’t that attractive.
The dark three-piece suit fit his tall, muscled frame, making him look more like a sharp businessman than a mobster.
He shifted over to say something to his brother and the tip of his gun came to view.
There goes the sharp businessman look , I thought smugly.
Bottom line, he just wasn’t my type.
Basilio and Wynter found their way onto the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife.
Only in the fucking underworld . Mere hours ago, everyone had guns pointed at each other at the church.
All because Ivy and I showed up in the back room to save her.
Well, maybe we wanted to kidnap her back from the crazy New York kingpin.
All the DiLustros were nuts. Batty. Looney. Probably a touch of a few psychopathic traits there too.
And here we were. Dancing, eating, bullshitting.
Although, I caught both Dante and Basilio checking their weapons a few times. As if they expected someone to start shooting at any moment.
I stood up and headed for the bar on the opposite side of the lavish backyard. The waitresses seemed to be giving more attention to the men than the women. The freaking reception was full of testosterone.
Basilio went all out for this wedding. It made me wonder whether the fucker had it all on standby before he kidnapped my cousin. The bartender was swift to take my order. Fireball . It was only appropriate for this kind of event.
“May I have this dance?” A familiar voice came from behind me and awareness shot through me. It was so stifling I could hardly breathe. It settled in my lungs and filled the room with so much tension, a single wrong word or move could detonate a bomb.
A bomb I wished Dante would lie over and go boom . It’d probably be the nicest thing he’d ever do for a human. Saving all our lives.
“I don’t dance,” I declared, letting his rainforest scent wash over me. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a memory danced along the shadows. One I couldn’t quite grasp, but I knew it was triggered by his scent. The intoxicating fragrance taking me over.
“Liar.”
I peered up at him, those dark brown eyes appearing almost black. He had the thickest black lashes I’d ever seen on a man. The shadow of stubble ghosted his chin and cheeks, making me wonder how rough it would feel against my palm.
Not that I’d ever touch him.
“Fine,” I caved, watching victory flash in his eyes. “I lied. I do dance, just not with you.”
He smiled, not letting my rejection deter him. “That’s because you haven’t danced with me yet.”
“Listen, Dante ,” I started, emphasizing his name as though talking to a kid.
“I know you think you’re godsent and all, but you are not my type.
” I didn’t have a type. The traumatic experience from high school might have scarred me for life.
“So do us both a favor, stop gawking at me. Stop talking to my father about me. In fact, erase me from your thoughts. Like we’d never met. ”
Dante smiled darkly. “But I did meet you. And there’s no forgetting you, Wildling.”
I really didn’t like him. He was annoying and arrogant.
“Name’s Juliette.” I smiled sweetly. “Unfortunately for you, I have no trouble forgetting you.”
My words didn’t deter him. If anything, this guy became more persistent. He was definitely stubborn as fuck.
“Is that right?” he drawled lazily. “Did you forget your offer?”
I frowned. “What offer?”
“To give me the night of my life,” he said. “To have a threesome.” My expression fell. I had hoped he’d forgotten. It wasn’t my best moment. “I bet your father would agree to let me marry you tomorrow if I repeated your offer.”
I glared at him. Fucking traitor.
“Snitches get stitches.” I hissed that tired old phrase at the obsidian-eyed devil, but I realized my mistake the moment his eyes flashed with smugness.
Downing his drink, he dropped it on the bar with a thud.
“But instead of ending in stitches, you’ll end up in my bed, sweetheart.”
I rolled my eyes. “In your dreams, DiLustro.”
Then I flipped him the bird and turned on my heel to go dance with my friends.
Today couldn't end fast enough. I needed to get away from this lunatic.