Chapter 26
Luca
THE KING KEPT his daughter chaste in order to negotiate her purity—an arranged violation called a marriage bed.
I stared at her mouth and the sensual curve of her lips that remained plump and pink, even as Dante laid out a vile plan.
Vivienne was an ice queen, cool and unmoved.
I burned at the stake. Anger singed my veins, scorching my calm exterior.
“Do you trust me, Vivi?” Dante popped an olive into his mouth, chewing while he waited for an answer.
Her chin fell to her chest, and she shook her head. “You’ve protected me when no one else would, but no. I don’t. Love and trust aren’t the same. One is not inclusive of the other. I love you, Dante, but this house breeds selfish decisions.”
He swallowed, sour as her words were to digest. “Fair enough, but I hope you believe this. I tried to talk Vigo out of his decision. He’s—”
“Angry with me and what he doesn’t know. I understand.”
“Do you?” I shot up, and my chair flew, cracking against the window.
Then I paced from one end of her suite to the other, glaring at the opulence paid for by her father.
Gold fixtures. The hand-knit rug that cost more than my yearly salary.
A million-dollar view of the churning ocean.
All the things I couldn’t provide—but the first son of another family could.
Carlos Angelini would keep her in the luxury she was accustomed to.
That white-hot poker of truth stung on its way in.
For the love of anything holy, I wanted to hurt and save her at the same time.
“Carlos will take you, use your body, and break your mind until you slit your wrists and hang a noose from your bathroom shower,” I hissed. “Then he’ll have a woman he wasn’t forced to marry to save his family’s honor. Do you understand that, Vivienne?”
“I’m a pawn,” she whispered, still staring at her plate.
“It’s a death sentence!” I bellowed.
She flinched. Finally, a reaction. Finally, something to show she found the concept of the union revolting. Hope sparked somewhere in the hollow of my chest, and I rushed to kneel by her feet. “Look at me.”
Without hesitation, she blinked her eyes to mine. Frost and fire. Trust. I hated her unwavering faith in me. I also hated the emotions erupting in my chest.
Gratitude, devotion, relief.
They destroyed the careful boundaries I’d set in place.
Exactly what she wanted.
While I fought against her for five years, she’d fought for me.
A strangled sound of resignation scraped my throat. “How can you be so calm when I am not? Uccello….” My voice trailed off when she traced my face from the temple to the corner of my lips, soothing the feelings raging through my blood.
“You mistake silence for weakness. My insides churn, as do yours, mio salvatore. But I heard you, and your words bring me peace. I am not alone. We’ll fight together to stay together. We, Luca. We exist.”
I groaned. My forehead fell to her chest, and she eased my anger with her hands in my hair.
By instinct alone, I wrapped my arms around her waist, bringing us closer together.
A captive with her family, the Angelinis, or me, she had little choice in her prison.
But she chose the monster with a bleeding heart for a little bird who sang to his fractured soul.
“This picture is compelling.” Dante’s chair scraped the wood floor as he stood. “Brings about a tear or two, but let’s be clear: sweet gestures and loving words will never alter Vigo’s plan. Vivi’s last name is as good as Angelini.”
He glowered down at me as if he never understood devotion.
I wasn’t sure I did either, other than this deep, incessant need to keep his sister safe.
The remaining sentiment couldn’t be deciphered.
I hadn’t the inclination or time to fully appreciate Vivienne’s hold on me.
There was a more important score to settle.
I rose to meet him, an eye for an eye. “When will the arrangement take place?”
He watched me speculatively, then bowed his chin as if in agreement with thoughts he had yet to hear. “We have until morning. Vigo meets with Carlos at noon to officially extend the proposition.”
“Good.” I cuffed his shoulder. “You and I have work, my friend, at Piascere.”
His brow curled up. “It’s Tuesday.”
“And Carlos is a regular. He’ll make for an easy target on the dark street.”
Dante chuckled, and we took a step to leave.
Vivi grabbed my wrist. “You can’t kill him.”
The soft reticence in her voice caught my next breath.
Silence built a heavy tension in the room while her fingers dug into my flesh.
But hers… good Christ. A once pristine ivory landscape was covered in a bevy of Vivi-colored bruises, unraveling my self-restraint until it frayed at the edges of my vision, hanging on by only a thread.
I didn’t look at her. At this woman who demanded the impossible.
This woman who had always touched me as if she had the right to do so, and she did.
Since the day we met, I longed for the fleeting pleasure.
I wiped a grimace from my face. The trouble was, now I knew what her skin felt like under the glide of my fingers.
Now I knew what her heart felt like, beating in her chest and under the weight of my palm and my lips, because I had nursed her back to health for the last five days.
And during my darkest moments, I needed to know for sure that she lived.
I have to make sure she lives.
Those words were a goddamn bomb going off inside me. She was the meaning of my existence. She was mine, and I would kill anyone who stood between us. Carlos Angelini was just the first.
I brushed off her hold and walked away. “Go to bed, Vivienne.”
“Don’t kill him,” she demanded again.
Cold violence spread through my veins. That same sensation stuck in my throat and tasted bitter.
I hated that the bastard had a sliver of her compassion.
I wanted it all, which was fucking crazy, but that was her fault too.
She made me so goddamn insane that I stalked back to her, pinched her chin, and brought her eyes to mine.
Fire and ice. They were a soothing balm to my temper, which just pissed me off even more.
“Have you changed your mind then, Mrs. Angelini?”
A shiver rolled through her, and I wasn’t sure if it was from my animosity or the thought of becoming his wife. Probably both. But she shook her head as much as she could. “I’ll run before I marry a man forced to meet me at the altar,” she insisted.
“Then why?” I demanded through my teeth. “Tell me why I can’t put a bullet between his eyes.”
“Because killing hurts you whether you know it or not, and what hurts you burns inside me like a fire that won’t die. Per favore, mio salvatore, find another way for me and for you.”
We stared at each other for a moment while the gravity of just how deep we were in this together filled the room and choked Dante into an amused laugh. “Fuck, but you two are perfect.”
My grip relaxed, and the tension in my jaw eased. I ran my thumb over her plump mouth, knowing that whether I killed Angelini or not, he would never taste it. All of her belonged to me.
Resignation seeped into my blood. Right or wrong, we would have to find a way.
“There are better men out there for you to save, uccello.”
“You’re the only one who matters to me.”
Something cloying, like incense, rose around us.
Vivi would say it was a prayer, making way for the blessing to rain down from God.
I nearly rolled my eyes, but she held mine through my moment of panic.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Hell, I didn’t even know how I’d gotten there with her cheek in my palm and my heart in her hands.
But as I walked away for a final time with Dante, I knew there was no other way for me.
Vivienne Cabello was my endgame.
?
PIASCERE WAS A large, nondescript brownstone on Douglas Avenue.
The only marker to the club was an Italian flag waving proudly from its perch above the address numbers.
It snapped through a hard gust of wind as we walked to the quiet door.
The exclusive club required black-tie attire, and the owner kept a respectable pretense by serving only the most coveted wine and exceptional cuisine.
Look beyond the obvious, and there was debauchery.
The three upper floors were comprised of high-end prostitutes, the finest cocaine, and society’s elite, who spent their nights fucking at sex parties after doing a line or two.
Then they’d take a breather at the poker tables with a fifty-thousand-dollar buy-in.
The reputations of the most influential were at risk. Immense stakes for everyone involved. That’s why Piascere thrived on confidentiality and had hidden cameras to ensure discretion. Breathe one word about the club, and you would make the front page of every national tabloid.
A pretty brunette opened the door before we reached the top of the stoop. Her dress was black and tight, and her eyes were shrewd.
“Gentlemen,” she said, her gaze trailing over Dante’s chest and back up to his face. “We’re open for the Cabellos on Thursday.”
Separating the families was the owner’s strategy for keeping the peace. But Dante wasn’t deterred by her practical response. “La mia bellezza,” he murmured, then bowed and kissed her knuckles.
I cuffed his ear. “Concentrarsi, stupido culo.”
He scoffed. “Ignore the brute. He doesn’t get out much.”
My fingers curled into a fist at my side.
“For fuck’s sake, calm down,” he mumbled while standing to full height. “Dante Cabello for Carlos Angelini.”
She reached for her thigh.
I had my piece out, the muzzle pressed to her forehead before her arm was raised. “We’re not here for trouble, just a quick chat. Put the weapon down, and I’ll do the same. Shall we?” I coaxed.
Animosity curled her lip. “You’re not welcome here tonight, either of you.”