I leave my brother’s office in a trance.
Dem told me he’ll give it a few days before he tells the Grassis. I could tell my quick response caught him off guard. He’s afraid I’ll change my mind, but I know I won’t.
It’s done.
I’m about to be engaged.
In the kitchen, I chug a glass of cold water, then follow it with another. The cook is making dinner, and she shoots me a worried look. “Are you all right, signorina?”
“No.”
She hands me a cannoli from a tray on the counter. “Here, you look pale.”
“I don’t think sugar’s going to be enough.”
She nods knowingly and splashes some vermouth into a thin glass. “Some aperitivo before dinner,” she says as she passes it to me. “Signora De Rossi told me to have everything ready in fifteen minutes.”
I thank her and head outside to the interior courtyard. There’s a table with two chairs, and I take one of them as I sip my drink and nibble on the cannoli.
A fountain trills nearby, and the din of cicadas streams in from a nearby grove. It’s far hotter in this region than back at the castello, and I wish I’d worn a lighter shirt. Closing my eyes, I meditate on the sounds, allowing them to pull me into the present moment. I don’t want to think.
The door behind me opens. I recognize him from the sound of his footsteps, slow and steady and sure. He pulls a chair out and sits beside me, propping his forearm on the table, his fingers inches from my own. “How are you feeling?”
“You don’t need to pretend to care.”
“I do care, Mari.”
I shake my head, refusing to look at him. “Enough. Like you said, it’s over.”
There’s a pause. “You’ve come to terms with it then.”
“Did you think I’d cry over you for days?” I flick my gaze to him. “I’ll save my tears for far more worthy causes.”
He recoils slightly, pain crisscrossing his face, but I don’t care. I finish my vermouth and get up. “Dinner is about to start.”
I hear him follow behind me, my awareness of his body still tuned to high.
I hope it won’t last.
We sit down across the table from each other just as Ras, Vale, and Dem enter the room.
I reach for the bottle of wine and pour myself a big glass while everyone settles in. Is Giorgio going to join us for dinner every night from now on? God help me. I meant what I said. I’m done crying over him, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy being around him all the time like nothing’s happened.
The food is served. Once the staff leave the room, Dem stands and picks up his glass, meaning to give a toast. “I have an important announcement to make.” His gaze lands on me. “But first, I want to say how happy I am to have my sister back with us.”
I smile.
“The last few months have been difficult for you,” he continues. “You’ve lost someone important to you—Imogen. It was a senseless death. I have to admit that I spent many sleepless nights thinking about what I would do if you never returned to me. It is a hard thing to imagine. It’s also the reason why I asked Napoletano to take you with him. I thought it was the best way to keep you safe, given his unique skillset.” He turns to face Giorgio, who’s looking at him with an unreadable expression. “It’s a good thing you had the foresight to prepare Mari for the worst-case scenario, and of course, she was smart to listen to you. I want to thank you for ensuring that Mari got back to us in one piece.”
We raise our glasses and take a sip. Vale shoots me a careful smile before turning back to Dem. My brother’s clearly not done with his speech.
He swirls his glass, his expression pensive. “Mari, I can see that the time you’ve spent with Napoletano has had a positive effect on you.”
Giorgio shoots me a look, and heat rises up my cheeks. If only Dem knew exactly how we spent some of that time.
“You’ll always be my little sister,” Dem says, his eyes warm, “but I have to come to terms that you’re an adult now. Your decision earlier today confirmed that.”
My eyes widen. Is he going to tell them now?
“Martina has agreed to marry Matteo Grassi.”
The announcement is met with a momentary stunned silence before something shatters.
“I’m so sorry,” Vale stammers, sliding out of her seat to pick up pieces of her glass. “I just…wasn’t expecting that.”
Dem rushes to her side. “Let me help you.”
Across the table, Ras shoots me a grin, but Giorgio is frozen. Jaw clenched, he incinerates me with a glare so hot and furious it could rival hellfire.
As it burns all over my skin, I begin to doubt exactly what he knew about the proposed arrangement. Did he think I’d refuse? On his account?
I purse my lips and narrow my eyes. Screw you.
The thought travels. Something dangerous flashes across his expression, sending dread into the pit of my belly. While the cook comes out of the kitchen with a rag to help Vale mop up the wine, we stare each other down.
I want to scream at him. Say something if you care so much. But I don’t, and then everyone is sitting back down.
“Last time I saw Matteo, he took me to his nona’s bakery,” Ras says. “The guy’s a bit stiff, but that old lady was a riot. They’re not a bad family to join, Mari.”
“Thanks, Ras.”
Vale reaches over and clasps my wrist. “Congratulations,” she says, but her voice is laced with uncertainty. “When do you get to meet the groom?”
“I’m not sure.” I look to Dem for help.
“I’ll share the good news with Matteo’s father during our next meeting in two days,” he says, picking up his cutlery. “We’ll arrange for you two to meet shortly after.”
Now that Vale and Ras have congratulated me, the table’s attention moves to Giorgio. He smooths his palm over his tie. Adjusts his cuff links. Finally, he says, “I would vet that boy carefully before you agree to their offer.” His voice is as dry as bone.
“Ras already did,” Dem says. “I’m confident he’ll make a good match for Martina.”
“I have access to sources you two don’t. It would be a mistake to go through with this before I can talk to them.”
Tension wraps around the table.
“Are you implying I did a sloppy job vetting the guy who wants to marry my sister?” Dem says sharply.
Giorgio shrugs, once again appearing fully composed. “Don’t you want to cover all of your bases when it comes to her? Even if it’s redundant, it can’t hurt.”
His conciliatory tone makes Dem back down. My brother shifts in his seat, his lips pursed, but then he gives Giorgio a nod. “Tell me what you manage to find.”
Ras slaps Giorgio on the back. “You’ve gotten protective over Mari, huh? Your job’s done, Napoletano. She’s safe with us, and soon it’ll be her husband’s men watching her twenty-four seven.”
Giorgio stiffens, and I halt mid-chew. Is Ras trying to get a rise out of him? My brother’s right-hand man at times has a penchant for mischief, but I wish he’d drop it. I just want this conversation to end.
“Assuming Napoletano won’t find anything damning on Matteo, securing this alliance should clear our path to Sal,” Dem says.
Ras nods. “That asset seizure was an inspired move, Napoletano. Moretti and De Rosa are hours away from turning, I can feel it. With them, we have an in with every layer of Sal’s protective detail except for his most inner circle.”
“Calisto runs those men,” Giorgio says. “And he’s loyal to the bone.”
“We might just have to brute force the last part,” Damiano concludes.
Vale sends him an alarmed look. “I hope you’re not planning on taking on an army by yourself.”
“It’ll be a dozen men at most,” Dem says.
“Yeah, don’t worry, Vale,” Ras says. “When they see who’s turned to our side, the smart ones will lay their weapons down. There will be less bloodshed than the time you sent me to ambush your psychotic sister.”
Vale rolls her eyes. “You know, you bring up Gemma so often that if I didn’t know you any better, I’d think you had a crush on her.”
Ras laughs. “A crush? No, just a mild fascination at how someone can look so normal, yet be completely feral.” He takes a slug of his wine. “How is she, by the way?”
“Still engaged,” Vale says pointedly. “I guess we have a lot of weddings to look forward to after all of this is finished.”
I cut into my steak. Does Vale know about their plan to let Giorgio kill Sal? Dem would tell her, I think. I wonder just how hard Giorgio had to argue to convince my brother to let him do it.
Anger spikes through me at the thought.
That’s what he traded me away for.
My narrowed gaze lands on the man himself, and I notice he’s not eating. His eyes are on me, but they’re unfocused, like he’s retreated deep inside his head.
What is he thinking about? Fantasizing about the moment he kills Sal?
Dem and Ras continue the discussion about their plans, but I don’t care to listen anymore. I eat my food, finish my wine, and excuse myself from the table to go check on Sophia.
It takes me a few minutes to find her lying by the door that leads to the inner courtyard. She’s looking longingly through the glass.
“Want to go out there?” I ask.
She perks up when I grab the handle of the door and trots outside once I get it open.
I sit down in the same chair I used earlier when Giorgio found me here before dinner and watch Sophia sniff around the bushes. She’s limping, but her energy has returned.
My thoughts turn to my upcoming engagement. Whatever my husband will be like, I’ll handle it. Dem was right at dinner. My time with Giorgio has changed me.
I fell in love for the first time.
Had my heart broken by a man for the first time.
I haven’t quite figured out how to glue it back together, but I will.
Pulling out my phone, I tap on Imogen’s name and write one last message.
I’ll be a married soon, my friend. My groom is someone I’ve never met before. You’d be horrified. You were always a romantic. But for someone like me, I think it’s for the best. Turns out the one man that made me feel something doesn’t want me, and something tells me I’ll never find another one like him. So what does it matter who my husband is?
I tap send.
The message turns green. A second later, there’s a red icon saying it’s not delivered.
The number’s been disconnected.
I hang my head. It was only a matter of time before this happened, but the red icon feels like one blow too many. A tear slides down my cheek just as the patio door squeaks open behind me.
The sound startles me. It’s dark out now. I must have been out here for a while. I turn around, expecting to see Vale, but instead it’s him.
He shuts the door behind him, slides his hands into the pockets of his slacks, and takes an unhurried step forward. His gaze falls to my cheek. “You’re crying.”
I use the back of my palm to wipe it away. “Trust me, it has nothing to do with you.”
He looks down, shadows dancing over his face. “You read this guy’s file?”
“Matteo’s? Yeah.”
“And?”
I tip my chin up. “I liked what I saw. After all, I agreed to marry him.”
He grinds his jaw and then slowly lifts his gaze to meet mine. “Liar.”
“You don’t get to use that word in relation to anyone but yourself.”
Something akin to a growl bursts out of his throat. “You will not marry him.”
“This conversation is over.” I make an attempt to brush by him, but his arm shoots out. He snatches me around the waist and pulls me against his chest.
“No, it’s fucking not, Martina,” he says, his mouth close to my ear.
I use all of my strength to shove him away. “What’s the problem? You tossed me away like I was garbage, and now… What is this? Are you jealous I’m going to give myself to Matteo? What did you expect me to do, become a nun?”
He advances on me. “You say his name one more time, and I swear the next time you utter it will be at his funeral.”
A treacherous butterfly appears in my stomach even as I back away. “Get over yourself, Giorgio. You said it yourself. We’re done.” I glance over his shoulder. “You should move away. Dem might come out, and I know how scared you are of him. If he sees us here alone, he might get the wrong idea.”
My back hits the wall, and he doesn’t waste a second before closing me in with his arms. His chest heaves. “He’s never going to be a good match for you.”
“You weren’t either, but we had fun together, didn’t we? That’s all you ever wanted from me.”
He angles his head, as if he can’t quite believe the words coming out of my mouth.
“Fun? What we had was madness,” he whispers, his eyes wild. “Alchemy.”
Electricity runs down my spine. “If it was madness, then I guess we’ve both finally regained our sanity.”
“Not me.”
Something softens inside my chest, something I desperately wish would stay as hard as stone. “You told me you don’t want me.”
“I never said that. I said that we’re done, but I was wrong. I made a mistake. You’re not something I can quit.”
Don’t listen to him. Don’t listen to him. Don’t—
But then his lips press against my throat, and my mantra disappears. He licks a trail from my collarbone to my ear, and I force the moan threatening to spill out back down my throat. “Stop it,” I breathe.
“No.”
My fingers tighten on his shirt. “We’re done.”
“Never.” He moves to the other side of my neck, repeating the same movement with his hot tongue. It sets off a flurry of pulses inside my core.
When he pulls back, I meet his eyes. “What about your revenge?”
“I’ll figure it out.” He presses his lips to mine and then pulls back. “I’ll have you both.”
How? He really is insane, because this is lunacy. A desperate, reckless act. But no matter how I try to convince myself, I can’t find the will to push him away. His scent envelops me. Our bodies connect, and it feels like coming home.
His tongue invades my mouth, sure and possessive. He drops one hand to cup my breast while the other cradles my nape. It’s dark out in the courtyard because I didn’t turn on the lights, but anyone can walk out here, and it wouldn’t take them long to spot us.
“It doesn’t work that way,” I whisper as he drags a spaghetti strap down my arm and tugs my tank top to expose my strapless bra. “You have to let me go.”
He makes an angry sound at the back of his throat and presses his forehead to mine. “I said I’ll figure it out. There is no other choice.”
Not waiting for my response, he presses his lips to the swell of my breast and then pushes my bra down. He darts out his tongue to my nipple. I moan, arching my back and giving him better access to the hard bud.
This is goodbye. We never got to say a proper one, so we have to do this now to put an end to our madness.
“You’re mine, Martina. You will always be mine.”
My eyes sting at his lies, but somehow, the heartbreak of this moment only heightens my pleasure. He moves to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, the same wanton desire.
Cupping my hand over his bulge, I rub him over his pants before I pull his zipper down and reach inside.
He groans, his erection twitching in my palm. When I swipe my finger over the tip, it’s wet with precum.
“I will never stop wanting you,” he says against my skin. “Never stop craving you. I was a fool to think otherwise.”
You’re still a fool. But I don’t utter those words out loud, because I don’t want him to stop. I want to feel him inside me one last time. I’ll savor the pleasure of his cock and the way it’s never failed to leave a delicious kind of ache. Tomorrow, that’ll be my reminder of what we could have been.
He hikes up my skirt and rips my underwear, the sharp sound loud and clear in the quiet air of the patio. I drag my palms over his chest, his abs, his cock, trying to commit all the hard lines to memory before they become just that.
His lips find mine as he pushes inside of me. It’s a good thing my legs are wrapped around his waist and he’s holding on to them with a firm grip, because as he bottoms out, my body becomes jelly. My nerve endings buzz with pleasure.
He fucks me hard, as if he’s trying to prove some kind of point. I know I’m right when he presses his cheek to mine and whispers, “He’ll never fuck you like I do. Never make you moan like the world could be on fire and you still wouldn’t tell me to stop.”
I bite down on my bottom lip as my pussy trembles around him. He’s right about that. I have nothing to compare Giorgio to, but somehow, I know deep inside my gut that no man will ever make me feel this good.
He reaches between us and finds my clit with his thumb. I press my face into his shoulder, muffling a groan with his shirt. The small circles he makes set off all the right sensations, as if I’m a game he figured out a long time ago.
“I’m close,” I pant. “Don’t stop.”
“I don’t plan on it, piccolina.”
It’s the nickname that does me in. I convulse against him as waves and waves of pleasure soak through me, right to the bone. He removes his hand, but only to move it to cup my ass. His thrusts speed up, and the cicadas are so loud they nearly drown out his groans. He buries his face into the crook of my neck. I gaze at the stars above us, and one falls just as he reaches his peak.
I should make a wish, but I don’t know what to wish for. Maybe for time to rewind and take us back to the castle where this didn’t feel so wrong.
If I expected this one last time to give me closure, I think I made a mistake. As Giorgio pulls out of me, I can’t even meet his gaze. When he lets me down, I immediately clean myself up with my torn underwear, stuff it inside a pocket of my skirt, and move to leave. He zips himself up and then rushes to catch up to me. “Martina.”
I shake off his hand, only for him to grab it again.
“Mari—”
“Leave me alone,” I say, my voice shaking.
He doesn’t. He pulls me into him, strong and unrelenting, and presses his lips to mine.
I’m so damn angry and lost that I don’t hear the door behind me open until it’s too late.
Someone sucks in a breath.
“Get your fucking hands off my sister.”
