Chapter 21 #2
“Getting my things sorted out before I… well, you know.” I shrugged helplessly, not feeling the need to elaborate. After all, he’d been in that room when I was sold off like a prized broodmare.
“Signorina DiRavello,” his deep voice was velvet draped over steel, his bow just short of mocking. “I came to introduce myself.”
“No, you were trespassing,” Luca snapped, planting his hand in the middle of Nico’s obscenely wide chest. “Step back, soldier, and get the fuck out of our house.”
“Are you going to make me, pup?” Draconi countered lazily, bloodlust sparking in those pale eyes. “I’m here on command of Don Marcello, but if you’d like, I can go tell him you weren’t up for visitors.”
I threaded my arm through Luca’s. Stop this, brother. You’re only antagonizing him. Let’s see what he wants.
He dropped the wards, Em. He’s here to kill you; can’t you see that?
Trust me, brother, if he wanted me dead, I’d already be dead, I told him, squeezing his arm for emphasis. He’s here to deliver a message. Let’s hear what the Don has to say that’s so important.
“I remember you from the ceremony. Well, after the ceremony.” My smile was just this side of vapid, sweet and empty, exactly what he would expect from my pathetically weak bloodline. See? I’m not a threat at all. Just a pretty, spoiled girl.
“Niccolò Draconi,” he tipped his head to the side, eyes narrowed. “Most people call me Nico.”
“Then I suggest you take this message back to your master, Nico,” Luca said, stepping in front of me. “My sister doesn’t take orders from you or the Don. She’s nobody’s pawn.”
For fuck’s sake, Luca, stop acting like this, I scolded, pinning his arm tighter between us. You’re going to get yourself killed.
“Ouch.” Nico pressed a hand over his heart. “Insulting my diplomacy and my chess skills in one breath. Impressive for someone who’s appena un cucciolo.”
“Luca,” I warned. “It’s all right. If Don Marcello sent him, I should hear what he has to say. Just… give us a few minutes alone, please.”
My brother hesitated, jaw working. I could almost see the battle inside him—duty to family, his overprotective instinct to shield me from danger, especially from the Dominicos. Finally, he muttered something foul under his breath.
“Five minutes,” he warned, his pointing finger so close to Nico’s mouth, I almost expected him to bite. “Then I want you gone.”
Nico smiled, showing just enough fang to be considered rude. “Duly noted. I’ll try very hard to keep to your strict schedule, pup.”
Luca’s hand brushed mine once before he stalked away down the corridor, shoulders still rigid. A door slammed shut in the distance.
I turned back to Nico, letting my smile widen a fraction.
“Well, now that you’ve thoroughly insulted my brother, what brings you here, Nico?
Is this a social call, or would you like a tour?
” Something dangerous rose to the surface, and I grit my teeth against everything I wanted to say right now.
“As I understood the terms, the Brotherhood was to remain outside our walls, not lounging against them.”
Okay, so I wasn’t completely above letting my temper take control.
As I led him into the sitting room, his pale gaze roamed everywhere, taking in the frescoes, the crystal chandelier, and the DiRavello crest worked into the marble beneath his boots. “This is… nice,” he said solemnly. “A bit like living inside a mausoleum, but I suppose some people enjoy that.”
I put a hand to my chest. “Saints preserve us. A member of the Draconi Brotherhood has opinions on interior design. I thought you only liked sharp, pointy things, preferably stained with the blood of your enemies.”
He tossed his head back and laughed, a real, genuine laugh, something so real about it, I could only stare. It had been a long time since anyone had laughed like that around me, maybe since Luca and I were children, and I realized how much I’d missed the sound.
But now was not the time to get sentimental over the past; I had a part to play.
I dropped onto the silk couch, softened my eyes, and pitched my voice into the airy register that made Enzo’s friends all coo about what a sweet girl I was.
“So, Nico Draconi.” I gestured to the chair opposite, heart thundering when the bastard dropped down right beside me, his enormous, muscled thigh pressed against mine.
It took me a second to regroup, to straighten my back, cram myself onto the corner of the cushions so he wasn’t sucking up all my personal space.
“Why are you here?” I demanded, that calm, airy register turning to an irritated huff.
“Did the Don send you over to escort me to my fate? You’re a bit early.
By my reckoning, I still have a few more hours of freedom left before my looming nuptials.
But never fear, the DiRavellos value loyalty.
I’ll be ready to sign my life away on the dotted line. ”
His eyes sharpened. “You talk about your wedding like it’s the end of the world.”
“Isn’t it?” I tilted my head, blinking. “Funny, nobody asked me what I wanted. I figured my only duty is to look pretty and keep my mouth shut while the males broker their power deals.”
The bastard leaned closer. Close enough for me to smell freshly spilled blood, sweat, and a faint, fruity scent. “You don’t strike me as the keeping your mouth shut type.”
I widened my eyes. “No? What type do I strike you as, Signor Draconi?”
He tilted his head, considering me. “At first, I thought you were nothing but a pampered princess. Spoiled and weak, in all the ways aristocrats are. But…”
I held my breath, fingers ready to pull a knife.
“Now I’m wondering if you aren’t the dangerous kind.
” He studied my face a shade too closely.
“The kind that puts up a very good front, capable of fooling most of the vampires around them. Except peeling off masks is my job, Emberline. And I’m very, very good at finding the truth. Some say… an expert in my field.”
For one long moment, we stared at each other, predator to predator, neither of us blinking.
Cherries. That’s what his scent reminded me of—cherries and mint. What a strange smell for a stone-hearted killer to drag around behind him, when all it did was remind me of dessert. I refrained from licking my lips.
Between his delicious scent and his veiled threat, my heart tripped over itself, and I laughed, fluttering a hand between us. “Don’t be absurd. The only time I wear a mask is during Carnival, and even then, I can barely keep the thing on all night.”
He studied my hands. “Is that so? Funny, the callouses on your fingers tell a different story.”
Well, godsdamn.
I curled my fingers inward before I could stop myself. His mouth quirked.
“Relax, principessa,” he purred, finally leaning back so I could finally take a fucking breath. “I’m not here to expose your extracurricular hobbies. Gabriel just wants to be sure there are no surprises waiting for him once you two lovebirds tie the knot.”
Heat prickled at the back of my neck at the mention of Gabriel’s name. Why couldn’t I get that image of him and his heart-ripping expertise out of my head?
“Ah. You’re on a fact-finding mission,” I translated. “How thrilling. Do you have a list of questions prepared? Favorite color, favorite flower, favorite way to poison someone?”
He tipped his head, pale gaze lingering on my mouth for a heartbeat too long. “My interrogations are usually more of an… improvisation than a plan. And you look more like the kind who would choose a knife over poison. No offense.”
Something in his dark tone slid under my skin, which was infuriating, because I should be thinking about the best way to open his throat, not about the shape of his full lips around the word improvisation.
And why was he really here?
Why was he crowding me on this sofa, making me wonder if the rest of him was as hard as that beefy thigh pressing into mine?
If Marcello wanted me dead, I should be bleeding out or fighting for my life. This felt… threateningly cordial, inappropriately flirtatious, and most definitely not like my life was in imminent danger.
More like he was about to ask if we should move this conversation to the bedroom or whatever smarmy pickup lines males like this used to get laid.
Who was I kidding? He probably just batted those pretty brown eyes and crooked his finger, and females fell into line behind him, ready to suck his…
“No offense taken.” I shrugged, taking a shuddering breath. “Forgive me if I don’t reveal all my secrets simply because your master gives you an order.”
“Gabriel isn’t my master,” Nico’s voice hardened, and for the first time, the easy humor vanished from his voice. “He’s my brother in all but blood. I’ve never failed him, and I never will.”
“Then what, precisely, does your not-master expect you to do here?” I asked sweetly. “Count how many gowns I own? Make sure my perfumes aren’t incendiary devices? Pat me down for hidden blades?”
Oh my gods, I was clearly an idiot.
“Oh, I already know where you hide your blades,” he observed casually.
His eyes trailed down my body with deliberate slowness, enough to make me all twitchy.
“Right wrist, lower back, left boot. You favor your right side when you shift your weight. Left-handed, but you can throw with both.” His grin grew.
“Of course, smashed into the corner of the couch, you’ll have trouble reaching the one at your back, but you can give it a go if you’d like. ”
“You’ve been watching me for all of thirty seconds,” I snapped too sharply.
“Long enough.” He winked, wolfish. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your little secret. I’m a professional.”
“Professional what?” I asked. “Spy? Assassin? Interior decorator who also likes pointy things?”
“Tonight through tomorrow?” He leaned in, voice dropping. “I’m your chaperone.”
“I have a brother for that,” I hissed. A chaperone meant no sneaking out, no freedom… unless… Was that why he was here? I’d been careful tonight, following them over the rooftops, but I didn’t think Nico had noticed me.
Gabriel, on the other hand, had instantly honed in on my location every time I so much as blinked.
“Brothers are emotional creatures,” he pointed out drily. “Especially yours. Gabriel wanted someone… more objective, to watch over you in the meantime.”
I lowered my lashes, a drop of nervous sweat trickling down the side of my cheek, something else the bastard probably sensed. “And just how objective are you, Niccolò Draconi?”
He studied me, his expression strangely thoughtful. “That depends.”
“On?”
“On how much trouble you plan on being,” he teased.
This close, his eyes really were the strangest shade of brown.
Pale but not gold, as though all the color had been washed out of them, leaving only the faintest hint of raw umber behind.
“Because Gabriel gave me free rein to handle you as I see fit.”
Outrage turned into a flash of heat, slipping through me like honey and landing right between my legs as I surged to my feet. “Handle me?” For a second, I had the insane urge to draw my blade and lunge, see just how fucking fast this bastard was. He’d already fought two vampires tonight.
Maybe I could take him.
“His words,” Nico said, one corner of his mouth kicking up as he rose, towering over me in all his bad guy scariness that somehow only made me tingle all over.
“Well. Almost. The exact words were ‘Do what you have to do. Find out what she’s hiding. Use whatever tools you need to get her to cooperate.’”
I swallowed, my throat dry. “Tools,” I echoed.
“Mmm.” His gaze dropped to my mouth again, remained there longer, with searing intensity. “Threats. Torture. Flattery.” The smile sharpened as he drifted closer, close enough that if I wanted to, I could have kissed him. “Seduction.”
My brain stuttered.
My heart seemed to beat everywhere all at once, in my chest, the base of my throat, my temples.
“Seduction,” I repeated slowly, willing my cheeks not to flush, my pulse to stop racing like a rabbit’s. “How very… thorough of my future husband to send his best friend to seduce his future wife.”