Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
ARI
Family dinners are a special form of hell.
A mental game that must be played at a professional level, or you risk being slaughtered.
Mental warfare has always been a favorite technique of the Araneae family. It shows advanced intelligence and gives you power over everyone else in the room if you win.
Anthony only ever tolerated Aiden, his stepson, because he was Isabelle’s only son.
Isabelle came from old money. Money so old it was once tied to the Italian parliament, where The Order originated.
Royalty, even distant royalty, made Aiden’s blood worth enough that he could essentially take Brodie’s place when he died.
Aiden sat at the head of the table, opposite Anthony, in Brodie’s old chair. He is slumped back like he doesn’t have a care in the world, but his eyes give him away. He is assessing the situation before making a move.
The room is silent aside from the silverware grinding against the china plates. Some ostentatious set that Isabelle bought last week. Seems the previous four sets no longer made the cut. Woe is me.
Even when it was just family, the expectation was always gilded opulence. Hence, the golden cutlery currently slicing into my braised lamb and the fucking linen napkin on my lap. At least the food was worth every penny they spent on the chef.
“So,” Isabelle clears her throat and takes a sip of wine, “I talked to the wedding planner, and we have selected the perfect venue.”
My entire body goes still at her words. “What?” Bile fills the back of my throat, and I immediately push away my plate, no longer hungry.
Isabelle clearly doesn’t hear the fury in my tone because she continues on, unbothered, “We have chosen the colors to match the family crest, and she is designing wedding invitations with a similar style. Invitations should be sent out in the coming week. And I have scheduled a dress fitting next weekend.”
The engagement party was only two weeks ago.
“And when, pray tell, is my wedding?” I ask acidly.
“Next month,” Isabelle continues eating like she didn’t just give me life-altering information. “The venue, thank god, had a last-minute cancellation in April, so we snagged it.”
April. Four months after Brodie’s death.
Over my dead body was I getting married next month. And without being consulted. She could go fuck herself with the golden spoon currently in her mouth.
Even though I was in the Araneae family, I wasn’t actually part of it. I was the illegitimate daughter of a conman who tried to steal from The Order. They found me after they slaughtered my father in the dining room of our one-bedroom apartment. Or so they told me.
If Elena, Anthony’s first wife, hadn’t wanted a daughter so bad, then I would be in the ground with my father.
I know I can’t postpone the wedding too long. It had to occur before the Initiation. Yeah, not thinking about that anytime soon. But there was no reason we couldn’t wait until the end of May.
My education was the only thing I really had that was mine. I worked hard for it. Studied, crammed, and got invited to VHU with no help from anyone else. I was not going to take handouts or owe anyone when I walked across that stage.
When I applied to schools, I didn’t even ask Brodie to help. We would only go to the same university if I got in on my own. And I would be damned if someone was going to take this away from me.
Getting married in this family meant I could no longer prioritize school. It meant that it was time to produce an heir, secure the line, and focus on helping Aiden. Thank fuck for my IUD. It would buy me a little time and give me a semblance of control.
This marriage would sideline everything I wanted.
“And was any of this going to be discussed with me? Since it is my wedding?” I don’t even bother to keep the disdain out of my voice.
Interrupting me, Aiden pipes in, “Don’t you mean our wedding?” He looks over at me with a smug smirk on his annoying face.
I could probably orgasm just from punching it.
Isabelle doesn’t even bother to acknowledge me, acting as if I don’t exist. “I have also picked out the flower arrangement and the linen. Samples should arrive tomorrow or the next day.”
“No.”
Silence descends. The kind that promises violence.
Anthony looks up from his dinner, his dark eyes filled with the very violence that fueled the quiet in the room.
Isabelle looks at me as if I’ve gone mad. Who would dare go against Anthony?
“Excuse me?” Anthony says with an undercurrent of temper.
“I will not be getting married next month. In fact, I will not be getting married on your timeline at all.”
“Ari, you do not have a choice in the matter.” Isabelle glares in my direction like her look of contempt will get me to change my mind.
But I do not budge. I won’t. “No, I do. I am going to graduate. I am going to walk across that stage and get my diploma with my last name on it. The summer solstice is well after graduation, and Brodie promised me we could wait until graduation.”
“Brodie isn’t fucking here, is he?” Anthony bites back with barely contained fury. His grip tightens on his knife as he narrows his gaze.
My stomach lurches. How could he be so callous about his only son dying? How could he not care?
“If you want Brodie so bad, we can arrange the grave right next door.” His knife in my chest might feel better than sitting here listening to Anthony talk about his son. Anger lights me up, and I take my wine glass and throw it against the wall, watching as the pieces shatter. “Fuck you, Anthony.”
Anthony grabs his gun and lays it on the table next to his plate without removing his finger from the trigger before responding, “Arianna, if you speak to me like that again, it will be the last breath you take.” The air empties from my lungs at the disdain in his voice.
Pushing back my chair, I storm out of the room, pressing my hand to my chest, hoping to relieve the pressure.
This isn’t right. Nothing will ever be right again.
AIDEN
“Are you happy with yourself?” I take a sip from my drink and glare at my stepfather over the rim. Most people wouldn’t dare to defy Anthony Araneae, so the fact that Ari yelled at him and stormed out of the room speaks volumes. The fact that he didn’t shoot her says even more.
It also made my dick twitch a little, but I blatantly don’t think about that.
I am not in a hurry to marry my betrothed, but my reasoning is different than hers. She has expectations that need to be met. And she’s not wrong. It has been impressed upon us the importance of securing the family line.
Anthony doesn’t bother to respond to my question, just grunts and continues to cut into his lamb.
Normally, I wouldn’t argue with the man.
It’s not like I need to encourage waiting.
But my bride might come to my bed more willingly if it looked like I was on her side.
Maybe it would even soften her toward me.
And if I could tempt her into my arms sooner than the wedding, well, that was our business.
“Would it really be a problem to wait until after graduation to get married? Is there some sort of stipulation in the will I am missing?” I take a sip of my wine, knowing there is not. I read the will ten times over, looking for clues as to why Brodie gave her to me.
Brodie knew how I felt. I ignore the inner voice telling me that he actually knew more than that. That he knew the truth I kept hidden, even from myself.
Irritation spikes through me, but I press it down, needing to focus on my current problem.
Anthony watches me carefully before responding. “You know we have expectations to maintain and secure the line. I will kill her myself and marry you off to someone else before I let her jeopardize that.”
Ahhh. There it is. Ari is expected to breed an heir. Disgusting.
He continues, ignoring my look of utter disgust, thinking of my fiancée as a breeding horse, “And the wedding does need to happen before Initiation night. That is nonnegotiable and was always the plan even before everything went to hell.”
“It will be pretty hard to accomplish procreation if my new wife refuses me,” I counter, knowing he at least has some morals on consent. Not a lot, but enough.
He gulps down the last of his drink. “You could force her.”
My blood runs cold. “Absolutely not.” Barely contained rage builds inside of me, the reaper inside rattling its cage.
“Then I need some incentive to postpone.” A prickly sensation washes over me, warning me that Anthony is up to something.
“And what could you possibly want from me that you couldn’t get yourself?”
Anthony’s response is cryptic and not at all what I am hoping for, given the potential for regret down the line. “I’ll let you know when I want to cash in my favor.”
Yep, instant regret, but that’s a later Aiden problem. “Fine.” The agreement tasting bitter on my tongue.
“But when the time comes, securing the line has to be your focus, Aiden. The second she walks off the stage at graduation, there will be no further delays. Initiation is coming, and neither of you will like the consequences if you aren’t married by then.
” Slamming back his chair, he walks out of the room.
I stand to go as well. “Wonderful, and with that lovely threat, Mother dearest, I need to go.”
“Aiden, wait.” She halts me midstride.
Getting up from her chair as well, she walks over to me, placing her hand on mine, and I work hard not to flinch away from her touch. “Convince her of the wedding in April. It’s in everyone’s best interest.”
With a barely suppressed sigh, I decide blackmail is my best course of action.
“Mother, you will move the wedding to May. The summer solstice isn’t until June, which is when Initiation is anyway.
If you don’t move it, I will let Anthony know where you go every Tuesday afternoon for ‘lunch’ and with whom you go. ”
My mother’s gasp could be recorded and used as an overlay sound on a daytime soap opera, it’s that dramatic. I’d be surprised if Brodie didn’t hear her from his room in hell. She fixes me with an icy stare. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would. Now, fix it. I don’t have time for your bullshit.”
I need my morgue.
“Bosco, come.” The spider hops into my palm on my command from his spot in the dining room.
Cutting into humans and making them bleed is a lot easier than dealing with family and facing the fact that I am about to spend my life with someone who despises me.
That was always going to be how my future ended, though.
Because the man who thrives on torture doesn’t get a happy ending. He gets what he deserves.