Chapter 27
EMBERLINE
Ismoothed my hand down my wrinkled black dress, glad to be free of the white monstrosity.
The silky lace underthings felt slippery and strange. My bare feet were tucked up beneath me in the chair as Dante lurked over by the windows, watching the storm pass overhead.
The only thing those bitches left me was the dress. My favorite coat, combat boots, and black underwear were gone, probably taken by Rina as some female-motivated payback for daring to marry into such a stanch, upstanding family.
Never mind that this wasn’t my idea.
Never mind, I was now married to the wrong godsdamned brother.
Also, not my idea.
“What do you expect to happen?” I demanded. “Because all of this bullshit,”—I gestured at the room, the white linen bed, the stupid rose petals—“has nothing to do with me. You barged into a carefully negotiated alliance, blew up my entire future, and now you expect what? Cooperation?”
“I expect you to keep your voice down,” he growled, that rasp getting deeper, eyes reflecting every flash of lightning outside. “My entire family is gathered outside that door, trying to figure out whether I’m going to fuck you or kill you. Let’s not give them any reasons to interrupt us.”
Bone-chilling dread washed through me, clearing the way for rage.
I folded my hands in my lap and met that wild blue gaze with a clear message. Try either one, and I will claw off your face and stuff it down your throat. We’ll see how raspy your voice is, then.
Still, my heart stuttered as he shrugged off his coat, rolled his sleeves up higher, revealing strong, tan forearms and loads more scars. Crisscrossed white against dark skin, so many of them—like a map of every fight he’d ever survived.
“Are you?” I asked, voice low. “Going to fuck me or kill me?” My weapons still lay on the bed, obscene amongst the rose petals, too far away for me to easily reach, but I would fight my way to them if I had to.
His mouth curved, not quite a smile.
“Hmmm,” his aquamarine gaze darkened, his entire body going taut before he shook his head. “Neither. Not tonight, anyway. Let’s see how our first marital spat goes, and then I’ll decide.”
“Then what,” I asked tartly, “exactly, is your plan, marito?”
Husband.
The word tasted like poison. But honestly, part of me was relieved I didn’t have to play act in front of him. I could stop pretending. That, for now, I could drop my mask and my shields and just…be myself.
Besides, hostile negotiations were my specialty.
“You aren’t the only one with an axe to grind, tesoro. Marcello sent me away to die, remember? Stole my life from me, and I came back to make him pay for that.” He considered me for a moment, hand braced on the wall above his head. “I was thinking we might form a partnership.”
“I’m listening.”
Dante’s wry amusement edged into something keener as I dragged my chair closer to the fireplace, where the weapons were almost within my grasp.
“First, we set the terms of our ceasefire. Then we figure out how to convince the vultures outside that we’ve honored our marriage vows. After that…” He shrugged one bulky shoulder.
“I had a plan in place,” I snapped. “It involved marrying your brother, getting close to your father, destroying your Dynasty from the inside, then killing everyone who had anything to do with my father’s murder.” My fingers curled into fists. “You wrecked all of that tonight.”
He eyed me for a moment, something like respect flickering in his gaze.
“Good,” he said simply.
I blinked. “Good?”
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until the candlelight brushed over the hard lines of his cheekbones, the long white scar kissing his jaw. Up close, I studied the faint edge of those strange tattoos marking his throat, the dark smudges beneath his eyes that spoke of years without real rest.
The light kissed his skin with a gold glow and for a second—so fast I was sure I imagined it—flames exploded around those blue irises in a ring of orange fire, body heat rolling off him in waves.
“Because your plan was stupid. You were going to get yourself killed, and that…” His voice trailed off, eyes darkening to storm cloud blue as that intense gaze settled fully on me. “That would have been a terrible waste of talent.”
My spine snapped straight.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Every plan includes an escape route. There wasn’t one tonight, was there? Your dear uncle didn’t give you a way off this island. Tonight, you were nothing but a DiRavello lamb dressed up for slaughter.”
“I am no lamb,” I snapped, trying to sound vicious when I was curled into this chair, shoeless, weaponless, and completely out of options.
“No,” he agreed, eyes dropping briefly to my mouth.
“You’re not. But eventually, Marcello would have discovered your intentions and made you bleed for your betrayal, and my brother would not have been able to save you.
And I highly doubt your uncle would have come to your rescue. ” The smile fell off his face.
“Your brother, on the other hand, would not have hesitated and would have died in the process. Then, your plan would have wasted two lives.”
Oh gods, Luca. He was probably losing his shit. I’d been trying to reach my brother, but nothing got through Dante’s wards. And I couldn’t exactly ask the bastard to lower them so I could speak to my brother, mind to mind, when that was our little secret.
“Why do you even care?” I demanded. “You were free of this—the Dynasty, your father, the politics. Humiliating your father tonight stirred up a hornet’s nest, and …” I narrowed my eyes. “What, exactly, do you expect to gain out of all of this?”
His gaze held mine, unwavering.
“A future,” he said quietly. “Marcello doesn’t get to decide how my life ends. He doesn’t get to rip me out of the world and sentence me to death on a fucking whim. He’s stolen too much from me already, just like he stole from you, Emberline.”
For a long moment, all I could do was stare, my pulse roaring in my ears.
Was he confirming Marcello killed my father?
Just the implication dragged up the image of my father’s body on the stone floor of the gardens. Blood pooled beneath him, his heart gone, his chest an empty hole. Much the same way Gabriel had ripped that vampire’s heart out in that alley.
“You claim you know who killed my father,” I whispered, replaying everything that happened in those frantic moments with the priest. “Not a suspicion or a theory… You really know who did this, don’t you?” One word. One name. Give me a fucking name, right now, and I will finish this.
“I told you I knew Enzo’s killer. I never lie,” Dante’s jaw flexed. “You help me, and I will tell you everything I know.”
Enzo. Not Signore DiRavello. Not even Il Duca di Venezia.
Only father’s inner circle called him by his first name… those who knew him best.
A chill went through me, an awareness that took my breath away in its utter, obvious simplicity.
“You didn’t just happen to burst into that chapel tonight, not knowing who I was, not knowing…
” My breath came faster and faster. “You knew all about me, didn’t you?
You knew my father… before… you planned tonight out, right down to the exact second you made your grand entrance.
” I wanted to slap my hand against my forehead because now—it was all so fucking clear.
“You walked into that chapel tonight, ready to wage war.” My voice sharpened. “You saw me as the sword you’d use to carve your father’s kingdom apart, and you… gods…” I rose from the chair, rage pushing me past caution.
“You,” I spat. “You, with your pretty little self-righteous speech about my uncle’s motives… you are planning to use me in the exact same way. You arrogant fucker. I should have hit you harder.”
Except for the fire crackling in the hearth, silence stretched between us. Somewhere outside, a hollow pounding echoed, like someone trying to break through the wards.
Dante didn’t deny, and he didn’t look away.
Neither did I.
“Yes, I am going to use you, every bit as cruelly as your uncle. But the difference is, at the end of this, you’ll walk free with your answer,” he admitted easily. “But I expect something in return.”
Unbidden, my gaze drifted to the petal-strewn bed, fear shivering through me as my vision went dark for a moment. They wanted blood on the sheets…
“Then name your terms,” I demanded, forcing my voice to stay steady, already knowing I’d give Dante anything he wanted, even my virginity, in exchange for that name. “Since you’re holding my vengeance hostage, what do you want from me?”
He studied me for a long moment, as if deciding how much more I could survive tonight.
“I want you,” he admitted softly.
My traitorous heart tripped over itself, skin prickling.
“Not like that,” he added, one corner of his mouth curving as heat climbed up my neck. “Not yet, at least.”
“Dream on, asshole,” I muttered, my gaze drifting to my knives.
He stepped past me to brace one hand on the mantel as he stared into the flames. He was so tall he loomed over me, close enough to touch, the firelight carving shadows over the muscles in his forearm, the tendons of his hand.
“I need you, Emberline.” He stared down with an expression I could not read, and I was an expert in reading my enemies.
“Publicly, we have to make these people believe our marriage is real. I need you to legitimize me, my claim to my birthright as the eldest son. You are my way back into the Dynasty. The DiRavello name, your social connections, and your flawless reputation are what I require from you.”
“You want me to reintroduce you to society so you can regain your standing?” I shook my head. “These bloodsuckers… they don’t forget, and they don’t forgive, Dante. I cannot help you, not in the ways you hope.”
“I am an eldest son who abandoned his family, a spineless traitor,” he explained, voice flat. “That is the story my father has spread for fifty years. I simply wish to sell the Dynasty a different truth. You will help me.”
“And that truth is?” I asked tightly.
He turned back to me.
“That the prodigal son returned for love.” Dante’s tone was dry.
“That he kept the blood oath he swore and stole his brother’s bride to restore our family honor, to maintain a strong alliance with the DiRavello family.
A romantic scandal is far easier to swallow than a disgraced son, returned from the dead. ”
“Nobody will believe that,” I told him flatly. “Even I’m not that good of an actress.”
“People believe what they’re told,” his smile turned bitter.
“Your uncle will do nothing to contradict our story because it is in his best interest to let this scenario play out. The other families will be… amused, and this will give them something to gossip about. My father will have no choice but to spin our story to his benefit. And once we’re firmly back in the good graces of the Dynasty…
” His eyes darkened. “We make our move.”
We.
The word slid under my skin before I could stop myself.
“And what do I get out of this?” I leaned my shoulder into the mantle, mimicking—totally not on purpose—Dante’s stance.
“Aside from a vague promise that at some point, I’ll get the name of the person who killed my father?
I have no interest in being paraded around like a prize, Dante.
I’ve worked hard to avoid that depressing-as-fuck future for myself. ”
“Once I regain my standing, you’ll have full access to the Dominico secrets,” he insisted. “You get a husband who everyone underestimates, who they believe is too dangerous and too broken to be strategic.”
“And are you?” I challenged softly, my brain going all sludgy. I was running on pure adrenaline, double-crossed by my uncle, yet something told me this male in front of me was my best hope of getting what I wanted.
“What?”
“Broken,” I prodded, searching his face. I already knew he was dangerous, and he was committed, that much was clear, but… something was off; I just couldn’t put my finger on what.
His gaze held mine, long enough my lungs ached.
“Not in the ways that matter,” he scowled, eyes flicking back to the flames dancing in the grate.
“And what about Gabriel?” I asked, before I could stop myself. “What about your brother? What about Nico? Are you going to hurt them to get whatever it is you’re after?”
Just shut up, Ember. I didn’t even know what I was asking for. What guarantees I wanted. Days ago, I’d been determined to destroy them all, but my heart had changed, and my gut told me neither of them was involved in Enzo’s death.
And I had no interest in harming innocents.
“Have you grown attached to my brother and his friend, tesoro?” There was no heat to the question, just simple curiosity. “Were you expecting all of this,”—he swept a hand over the bedroom—“to be real with my brother, the fairytale wedding of your dreams?”
I flushed at his condescending tone. “Of course not. Fairy tales are for children. What guarantees do I have that you will keep your word on any of these promises?” I demanded, changing the subject.
“You don’t. But I don’t trust you, and you already knew you couldn’t trust my father or Gabriel. Or, I suspect, deep down, your uncle Giovanni.” His mouth hardened around the last name. “So, it appears we’re all even in the trust department. At least I’m honest about how I’m using you.”
“And how are you planning to use me?” I asked, despising that traitorous rush of excitement, the tingle of forbidden heat between my legs. What was it about this male that made me want to stab him, but also wonder what his lips tasted like?
Why couldn’t I stop thinking about all those scars peppered all over his body, those oddly compelling tattoos, and why he’d hesitated before he’d answered me about whether or not he was broken? And why, the fuck, in the middle of such a disastrous night as this, did any of this even matter?
“As bait,” Dante was explaining, icy eyes narrowed. “As my blade. As a pretty thing on my arm. Depends on the day and the situation.”
“That’s a big ask in exchange for a name. Seems like I’m getting the shit end of this marriage deal,” I snorted, already knowing I didn’t have any choice.
Take the deal or have it forced down my throat.
Hopefully not literally.