De Rossi jerks Martina away from me and whips out his gun.
I’m staring at a loaded barrel for the second time in as many days, and I have to admit, I deserve it this time.
I know how this looks.
I know what De Rossi will think.
“Did he force himself on you?” De Rossi grinds out from where he’s standing a few paces in front of me.
Martina shakes her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. The sight of them makes my chest tighten with dismay. She said she wouldn’t cry over me, but right now, there’s no denying she’s crying because of me.
It was selfish of me to take her like that, but I wasn’t lying when I said I’d figure it out.
My mind’s made up.
I’m not letting her marry that fucking Grassi.
“Dem, no. Put down the gun.” She tries to take his forearm, but he swipes her arm away and pushes her behind him.
“What is this then?” De Rossi looks like he’s half a wrong word away from putting a bullet in my head.
“We were…” Martina swallows. “We were putting something to rest.”
Is that what she thinks we just did? No, that wasn’t a goodbye.
When it comes to Martina, there will be no more goodbyes.
I made a terrible mistake yesterday. I was so angry at Polo and Sal for putting her in danger again that all I saw was red. The need to make them pay was all-consuming.
I wasn’t thinking straight.
I was looking at the situation through matted glass, and it took De Rossi saying Martina was going to get married for the glass to shatter.
Suddenly, I could see everything clearly.
I’ve been pushing Mari away ever since I saw her, because the feelings she inspires inside of me are terrifying. I’ve never loved a woman before. How can someone who has never truly been loved know how to love another?
Maybe by learning from someone else.
I should have realized Mari was the one for me when she reacted to my story—this thing that’s plagued me my whole life and made me feel so damn worthless. She listened and she reacted with kindness. With compassion. The man who killed her parents is a part of me. That should have been enough reason for her to recoil.
And yet she didn’t.
Even the most broken of things can be mended by the right pair of hands.
Mari is mine. I might be lowborn. I might be too old. My name might not come with factories or an army attached to it. But I’ve spent my life solving impossible problems, and there’s never been a more worthy prize than Martina.
Whatever I have to do to have her, I’ll do it, because I know the truth now.
If she’s not mine, nothing else matters.
“Is this what you’ve been doing with my sister the entire time the two of you have been away?” De Rossi asks, his voice low and deadly.
I run my tongue over my teeth. “Not the entire time.”
He points the gun to the sky and fires off a shot. “Fuck you, Napoletano.”
“Stop it!” Martina shouts. “Let’s just go inside and talk.”
He lowers the gun, moving his furious glare from me to his sister. “Go to your room.”
“No, Dem, I can explain—”
“I said go to your fucking room, Mari.”
Her eyes widen. I have a feeling he’s never sworn at her before, and hearing him do it now momentarily stuns her. She swallows, her throat bobbing, then she lowers her eyes and nods. “Okay.”
He watches her take the two steps to get to the door, and when she shoots me a look at the last moment, he snaps, “Do not look at him. Inside. Now.”
The door slams shut, and then it’s just the two of us. De Rossi assesses me, his jaw ticking. “This is why you were so insistent on checking Grassi yourself. Let me guess, you would have found something that disqualified him, whether it existed or not.”
“Martina isn’t marrying him.”
“Like hell she isn’t,” De Rossi snaps. “You think it’s up to you?”
“How do you think Grassi will react when I tell him his bride isn’t a virgin?”
He throws a punch, and I let him land it on my cheekbone. Hurts like a bitch, but I earned it. Warm blood trickles down my face and drips onto my shirt. De Rossi moves to hit me again, but this time, I block it. “Enough.”
“You won’t be able to tell him anything if you’re dead,” he says, lifting his gun again.
“He won’t give a fuck about the engagement in that case. Not if you’ve killed your best chance at winning this bid.”
De Rossi laughs. “You think you’ve got a handle on everything, Napoletano. I thought maybe the situation with Polo would have humbled you, but it’s clearly going to take more than that.”
A cold sensation slithers down my spine.
“Calisto just called. Sal’s so far gone that he lost it on his consiglieri. Insulted his family. Threatened to kill them all if Calisto doesn’t get him Martina. The kingdom is really imploding now, and Calisto is changing sides. Sal will be dead by the end of this week and it’s going to be me who kills him.”
My heart picks up speed. “The deal—”
“There is no more deal.” He drops the gun but gets in my face. “Do you really think I’d trust you with something so delicate after what I just witnessed? You fucking lied to me. How long has this been going on for?”
“A few weeks.”
He scoffs. “After you told me what you wanted with Sal, I thought I finally understood why you agreed to take Mari so quickly. But it looks like you had more than one motivation.”
“I had no intention of anything happening when I agreed to take her.”
“What the fuck happened then? You fell in love?”
I stare at him. It feels like a million worms are slithering under my skin, tight and uncomfortable. But I sit with the discomfort, and when it passes, something vulnerable appears.
This is what scared me all along. The feeling of wearing my heart on the outside of my chest, where everyone can see how it beats for her.
His eyes widen. “Cazzo.”
“So what if I did?” I ask quietly.
He whirls around, burying one of his hands in his hair. “No. No fucking way. You do not love my sister.”
“She’s not marrying Grassi,” I say to his back.
He’s shaking his head. “Jesus fucking Christ. I can’t believe this.”
“Damiano, wed her to me.”
“Are you insane?”
“I know I’m not the man you envisioned for her. This won’t be the alliance that secures your rule or increases your power. But if you truly love you sister, wed her to me. I will make her happier than anyone else. I promise you that.” It’s a bold statement given she just left in tears, and Damiano appears to have the same thought.
“You don’t know anything about my sister.”
“I know more than you think. We… We work well together.”
“Then why the fuck did she agree to that marriage proposal, stronzo? She didn’t have to think very hard about it either.”
Because I fucked up.
“I pushed her away when I got here,” I confess.
Damiano’s lips curve into a bitter smirk. “Ah, now I see. You knew I’d be furious. You knew the deal you wanted would never happen if I found out. Did you tell Martina what you asked of me?”
“Yes.”
“You chose getting revenge over her.” He shakes his head. “My sister deserves better than that.”
His words sting far more than the punch he landed on my face. “I didn’t go about it right. If I could go back in time, I would handle it differently.”
De Rossi’s darken. “There’s no need for time travel, Napoletano. I’m giving you what most men never get—a second chance. You can make your choice again. I can let you kill Sal, or I can turn down Matteo’s offer. What do you choose?”
“Turn down the offer and sign a contract promising Mari to me.”
De Rossi makes a tight-lipped huff. “This isn’t a negotiation. It’s a binary choice. Whether my sister wants to marry you or not is up to her.”
I grit my teeth. If I choose the latter, I could lose it all, Mari and Sal. But if I choose the first option, I’ll lose Mari for certain.
And that’s not an option.
I always thought I’d find peace when I avenged my mother, but now I realize I was wrong.
The only time I’ve ever felt peace was when I was with Mari.
I suck in a deep breath. “Kill the engagement.”
Locking myself in the bathroom, I examine my cheek. There’s a dried streak of blood that disappears beneath the collar of my shirt, but otherwise, De Rossi didn’t do much damage.
I run cold water over a towel and use it to clean myself up, if only to not scare Martina when I talk to her.
The guilt I thought I might feel over my choice doesn’t come. I felt far guiltier when I treated Mari coldly a few days ago than I do now.
Why was I so fixated on avenging my mother? I’ve never talked to a shrink, but one would probably tell me it has something to do with proving to her that I’m not as bad as she thought I was.
But she’s dead. I have nothing left to prove to her.
I do have something to prove to Martina, though.
My eyes drift to my reflection in the mirror. Will she forgive me?
Something crashes in the distance, so I quickly dry my face and step out of the powder room.
Raised voices can be heard coming from De Rossi’s office. It doesn’t take me long to recognize Mari’s.
“This was my choice to make!” she says, her voice muffled by the door.
I’m halfway to it when Valentina appears and blocks my way. “Don’t go in there yet.”
I peer at her over my nose. “Move out of my way.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and doesn’t budge. “You’ll only make her angrier.”
Since she’s clearly been eavesdropping, I ask, “What has De Rossi told her?”
“That the engagement is off, and that you’ve asked for her hand.”
“I should be there for this.”
She shoots her hands out and wraps them around my wrist. “She said no.”
“To what?”
“To your proposal,” she says, like it should be obvious. “What did you think was going to happen? You told her you wanted nothing to do with her yesterday. Now you want to marry her?”
“What I said to her yesterday was a mistake.”
“Uh-huh. And how does she know you won’t change your mind again and say something else tomorrow?”
“Because I won’t,” I mutter, but in truth, I’m starting to see her point. “I’m trying to fix it.”
“By going to her brother instead of telling her how you feel?”
“What would you have me do?”
She pokes my chest, making me back farther away from the office. “Give her space, for one. She survived another attack on her life, agreed to an engagement, had it cancelled, and now she has another proposal to consider? I know made men aren’t strong on empathy, but can you imagine how she feels for one damn second? She’s got whiplash from it all.” She pokes me again. “Let. Her. Breathe.”
Something else shatters in Damiano’s office. Valentina glances over her shoulder and shakes her head. “Dem isn’t any better than you at the moment. He was so angry about catching the two of you, he didn’t think at all about how he should deliver the news, so he just dumped it on her.”
Just then, the door bursts open. Mari flies out, giving me nothing but a glimpse at her tear-streaked face.
“Mar—”
She whirls around on me, her nostrils flaring, and her eyes throwing daggers. “You. How dare you? You told me it was over. You broke my fucking heart!” Her palms shove against my chest. “And you know what? I was dealing with it. I chose a new path. Maybe it wouldn’t have given me a perfect life, but it would’ve given my life some meaning. Who gave you the right to take that away from me?”
Her anger makes the blood drain from my face. “Mari, you shouldn’t need to compromise. You deserve a perfect life.”
“And that’s a life with you?” She throws her arms wide. “This? Does this seem perfect? Fuck you, Giorgio.”
She whirls around and flies in the direction of her room.
I move to follow, but Valentina jumps in front of me.
“Don’t,” she hisses. “She doesn’t want to talk to you right now.”
I watch her hurry after Mari, and when they disappear, I glance over my shoulder at De Rossi.
He’s staring at me with a mocking smirk, and I can practically read his thoughts.
You’ve lost control.
Now what?
