by Emma Slate
“She is,” Hadrian agreed.
Angelo suddenly smiled. “If Barrett were ever to be in the position of becoming a widow, I would pursue her. Even though she isn’t Italian. For her, I’d overlook that flaw.”
The wind changed, bringing with it the aroma of an oncoming storm, signaling the end of our time on the roof.
“I’ll show you gentlemen to the dock,” Hadrian said, gently patting me into standing. “Your guest house is on another island so you can enjoy your privacy. Take some time to settle in. The boat will come for you tonight at seven to bring you here. Dinner will be at seven-thirty in the dining room, and then we can discuss why I’ve asked you to come.”
“Thank you for the view,” Luca said with a wink at me. “The ocean was lovely, too.”
I stoically stared at Luca as Hadrian’s arm tightened around me. I placed my hand on his chest in a delicate but pointed signal to stand down.
“I told your beautiful companion about our home,” he said. “She didn’t seem impressed.”
Hadrian’s grin was fierce. “She doesn’t impress easily.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, moving away from Hadrian. “I’ll leave you men to it. Feel free to continue discussing me when I am no longer within ear shot.”
I turned and headed to the door that would lead me to the stairs into Hadrian’s home. Even though the wind kicked up, I could still hear Angelo’s voice as he said, “She definitely reminds me of Barrett Campbell.”
“What are you doing? Why is Ingrid cooking? That’s Paulo’s job,” Hadrian said not half an hour later when he entered the kitchen.
I gently grasped Hadrian’s arm and led him away while Ingrid called out commands and barked orders like a drill sergeant. It was uncharacteristic of her, but Paulo and his crew jumped to, not at all bothered to do her bidding. There was something endearing about Ingrid’s ability to take charge, and it made me smile.
“We made a mistake offering the Moretti Italian cuisine.”
“How do you know that was a mistake?” Hadrian asked as we entered the den. “I didn’t hear any complaints.”
I went to the liquor cart and poured two glasses of amaro. I handed him one and then sat down on the couch next to him.
“Angelo made it clear when I was talking with him at the bar. We will never do better than they can do themselves. Not when it comes to Italian food. So, let’s not compete. Let’s show them something different.”
“Different like Scottish cuisine different?”
I grinned. “No. Ingrid’s cooking different.”
Hadrian smiled back. “Aye.” He pulled me into his side, and I kicked off my heels so I could curl into him. “How are you? Are you okay?”
“I guess. I can’t believe I just met my family and they don’t even realize who I am. I’m so…” I paused thoughtfully. “Angry, Hadrian. I’m so fucking angry. I hate them so much. I hate them for the way I grew up, for the fact that they gave my mother over to the Foscari and that because of them she chose to run. But you know what I hate more than all of that?”
“No, what?”
“I hate that I’m so damn curious about them.”
Hadrian’s hand stroked up and down my back. “I don’t like how he looks at you.”
“Luca? You don’t need to worry about him. He’s a harmless flirt. All part of the Italian charm. Besides, that’ll change when he realizes we’re related.”
“Not Luca. Angelo.”
My heartbeat escalated. “How does he look at me?”
“Like he’s trying to piece you together. He can’t take his eyes off of you. Even when you were standing on the terrace talking to Luca, Angelo’s attention always came back to you. It’s not sexual with him, it’s something else.”
“Do you think he knows who I am?”
“I don’t know. How much do you look like your mother?”
I shook my head. “Not very much. I guess I resemble my father. I wouldn’t know though, having never seen any pictures of him.”
We sipped our amaros and enjoyed the reprieve from our guests. I was still uneasy that Hadrian knew the truth about me, and yet I felt like I was able to finally speak freely, without concern.
“Nico and Tor don’t say much,” I said.
“They’re second in commands. They’re meant to watch and protect. To remain vigilant and get their hands dirty when it’s necessary. Angelo and Luca lead.”
“I didn’t quite understand what my mother meant until now.”
“What do you mean?”
“She tried to explain as best she could in the letter about bloodlines and legacies. But meeting Angelo and the rest of them, I finally get it. It’s the way they carry themselves. Like they’ve never been told no…like they’re part of something ancient and sacred. It’s more than just a high opinion of self-worth. It’s like they rule the world…”
He snorted. “They’re modern Romans—and you’re right, they’ve never been told no.”
“If they’ve never been told no, then how will you be able to—”
He placed his lips on mine and silenced my concerns. When he pulled away he said, “I’ll take care of it. They might be modern Romans, but I’m a modern Viking.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
My dress dipped low in the front showing off the swell of my breasts. The back was cut into a “V”, which bared the golden skin of my shoulder blades.
Hadrian stood behind me in an immaculately tailored suit, tracing the curve of my neck with his finger. My hair had been put up to draw attention to my curves.
“How do I look?” I asked his reflection.
His eyes were dark. “Almost perfect.”
“Almost?” I repeated in mock outrage. “Do you know how long it took me to do my hair and makeup?”
He grinned, and from his inner breast pocket, he revealed a long skinny jewelry box. He flipped it open and presented it to me. It was a delicate, diamond leaf tennis bracelet that appeared to resemble leaves on a vine. He quickly fastened it around my left wrist and then kissed my palm while I gaped at him.
“That’s not all,” Hadrian said, heading to his nightstand drawer. He pulled out a fine box and showed me a matching set of earrings and necklace. “The jewelry will be all you’re wearing when I fuck you from behind later tonight.”
I wobbled in my heels as he approached me. “Jesus, Hadrian.”
Grinning, he nipped my shoulder. “Sterling?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you ready?”
Was I? Not even a little bit. I wasn’t prepared to tell my family the truth, but the sooner it was out in the open, the sooner it would be behind us.
“What happens if they don’t believe me?” I asked, my voice low.
“If they don’t believe your words, then you’ll show them your eyes. It’s an undeniable Moretti trait.”
“And then what?”
“Then they leave, and our lives return to normal. Dinners on the terrace, helicopter rides to Lerwick to go exploring, taking Aegir out and sightseeing the other islands. Whatever we want, Sterling.”
I shook my head and pressed my hand to his lapel. “No, I meant, what does this mean for me and my family? You have business dealings with them, but I don’t want them in my life, Hadrian.”
“Then they won’t be.” He took my hand and brought it to his lips. “After tonight, you’ll never have to see them again if you don’t want to.”
Our moment was interrupted by a knock on the door. Hadrian called, “Come in,” and Ingrid popped her head inside.
“They’re here,” she announced.
“Thank you. We’ll be right out.”
The door closed, giving us privacy once again. Shivering in trepidation, I quickly put on the earrings and necklace, and then Hadrian escorted me out of the bedroom to the den. Feeling the need to be protected, I appreciated his possessive touch now more than ever.
I forced a megawatt smile for our guests, who were already waiting in the den. Hadrian
released me and then Luca took my hand and brought it to his lips in greeting, which made Hadrian take an unmistakable step closer to me.
“Gentlemen,” I welcomed. “Good evening. What can I get everyone to drink?”
I went to the liquor cart after taking their orders, and I wasn’t surprised when Luca sidled up next to me.
“Your boyfriend doesn’t like me very much,” he said.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said automatically.
“Oh?” His eyes scanned my ears. “Nice earrings.”
“Thank you.” I handed Luca his Compari and soda.
“If he’s not your boyfriend, what is he?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He took a sip of his drink and then sighed. “Can I give you a word of advice?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
Luca blinked and then a crack of laughter escaped his lips. “All right then.”
“How’s the guest house?” I asked.
“Very comfortable. A home away from home.”
“Why do I remind your father of Barrett Campbell?” I asked, my gaze sliding to a distant Hadrian. He was conversing with Nico and Angelo, and Tor sat by himself slightly farther away. Definitely the broody silent type.
Luca smiled slightly and his eyes took on a dreamy quality. “Barrett Campbell is the only woman to ever put my father in his place. Hadrian’s wrong, you know.”
“About?”
“You and Barrett do have a lot in common. My father paid you the highest compliment when he said you were like her.” He peered at me. “Have you met her?”
“No.”
“But it was Ramsey Buchanan who introduced you to Hadrian?”
“Yes,” I said, brow furrowing. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Flynn and Ramsey are as close as brothers. I would’ve thought you’d have met her.”
He was digging for information and not being at all subtle about it.
Ingrid appeared in the den, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. Her eyes caught mine, and I was grateful for a reason to flee the conversation.
“Dinner is ready,” I announced to the room.
Hadrian arrived at my side and escorted me into the dining room. The table was set with a red satin tablecloth and white china. He helped me with my seat and then took the spot at the head of the table. Angelo sat at the other end. Luca was across from me on Hadrian’s left, his brother at his side. Nico took the chair at Angelo’s left, which put him next to me.
A bouquet of purple sterling roses rested in the center of the table. I looked at Hadrian who inclined his head and then winked.
I placed my napkin in my lap, unable to stop the rush of pleasure from Hadrian’s subtle tribute to me. Pleasure mingled with anxiety.
The first course was served along with crisp white wine.
“This is delicious,” Angelo declared, taking another spoonful of soup. “I’m impressed.”
“It was Eden’s idea for a menu change,” Hadrian said easily.
Eyes turned to me. “I can’t take any credit for the food. It’s all Ingrid.”
The table was relatively silent, devoid of conversation. Hadrian sat, his body erect, and I knew he wanted to get to the heart of the matter and discuss why they were there.
But Angelo showed no inclination to do business. He was enjoying his meal, and nothing important would be dealt with until the coffees and brandies were poured.
Even though I had no inclination to be sociable, the suspense was killing me, and I decided I’d rather make polite conversation than sit in silence with my inner turmoil.
I looked at Luca. “You mentioned riding horses at your home. Do you still ride?”
He nodded. “We’ve got an impressive stable. What about you? Do you ride?”
“I’m new to it,” I admitted. I reached over and placed my hand on top of Hadrian’s, which rested casually on the table. “Hadrian bought a mare for his mount, Midas, and he let me name her. I’ve been riding her most mornings, when the weather holds.”
Luca looked at Hadrian and then back to me. “You let her name your mare?”
“It made her happy,” Hadrian said with a negligent shrug. “And besides, it’s her mare now.”
“What did you name her?” Tor asked, breaking his silence. His voice was as dark as Luca’s was light. It was clear he wasn’t used to conversing, and as Angelo’s second son, he didn’t have to be affable or charming.
“My brother has a way with horses,” Luca explained with an amused grin.
Luca teased his brother with good-natured affection, yet Tor didn’t appear to hear him, nor did he engage.
“I named her Eris,” I said. “The Goddess of—”
“Discord,” Angelo finished.
“She nipped my shoulder when I wouldn’t give her a carrot,” I said, forcing a grin. “The name seemed obvious to me.”
“Midas likes his spirited mare,” Hadrian said. His tone was overtly suggestive, and heat crept up my neck when his eyes blatantly caressed me.
It made me think of his promise earlier when he’d given me jewelry, and I couldn’t stop the flash of desire I felt between my thighs.
“She’s the kind of mare that’s full of adventure,” I said. “Hadrian has been very generous to me.”
The table fell into a companionable silence as we continued to eat.
Luca broke the quiet when he said, “I’m dying of curiosity. I know Papà always insists on waiting until dessert to discuss business, but I’m from a different generation, and I think we should get to the point of our meeting.”
“Your generation has no patience,” Angelo remarked with amusement. “But I have to say I’m also intrigued enough to dispense with ceremony. I’m ready to proceed.”
He looked at me, but I made no move to get up.
“She stays,” Hadrian said quietly, his voice steel.
“Are you sure?” Angelo asked.
“Aye. I want her to hear all of it.”
“All right then.” He leaned back in his chair and waited for Hadrian to speak.
“A few nights ago, an assassin broke into my home,” Hadrian began, switching from English to Italian. “It’s never been done before. You know the precautions I take to prevent things like that. The assassin and I fought—hand to hand—he escaped, but not without injury. My head of security was able to find him before he got off the island. When I went to question him the next morning, he broke a cyanide capsule inserted into his tongue. He cursed at me in Sicilian before he killed himself. He died before I learned anything of value.”
Hadrian’s fist rested next to his plate, and he slowly unclenched it. “So, my question to you is, who is desperate enough to kill a man as powerful as me even though I have a dead man’s switch in place?”
I frowned, not understanding the term.
“Sicilian…do you think it’s one of the five families?” Luca asked after a moment. The question wasn’t directed at Hadrian, but at his father.
Angelo slowly scratched his clean-shaven jaw. “Perhaps.”
“Are you sure it was Sicilian?” Luca asked.
“Of course I’m sure,” Hadrian said, his face clouding with annoyance. “Who would stand to gain the most from my death?”
“The Lanzas are the only one of the five families that are Sicilian,” Nico said.
“It wasn’t the Lanzas,” Angelo rebutted. “The head of their family just died and now his sons are fighting amongst each other for the right to lead. They wouldn’t benefit from Hadrian’s death.” He paused for a moment and then said, “It couldn’t have been the Foscari, either. If they’d wanted something done, they would have done it themselves. They’d never send a Sicilian to do their dirty work.”
I reached for my glass of water with the intention of taking a long sip to steady my nerves, but instead of grasping the stem, my fingers fumbled, and I knocked it over.
Angelo’s eyes locked onto mine and for a bri
ef moment, my heart felt as though it was going to burst out of my chest.
Luca jumped up immediately, grabbing his napkin from his lap and hastily covering the spill.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“No harm done,” Luca said absently, tossing the soiled napkin on the table.
I rose from my seat with the intention of getting Luca a clean linen. As I headed to the china hutch, my back was to the table, giving me a moment to compose myself.
“That leaves only the Sforza or the Borgia,” Hadrian said after a spell of silence.
I opened the drawer and pulled out a napkin and brought it to Luca. He smiled his thanks, and I reached around him to grab the wet napkin and remove it from the table.
“It’s not the Sforza,” Nico piped up. “They wouldn’t do anything that takes time away from expanding their fashion empire. It’s already worth over a billion dollars and they’re not prone to violence anyway. It doesn’t make sense for them to make a move like that.”
“It’s without question the Borgia,” Tor said firmly.
Everyone turned to look at him. His brother peered at him in curiosity. “We’re leaning that direction, clearly, but how do you know for sure, Tor,” Luca asked. “It could be another lesser known aristocratic family trying to make a name for themselves and worm their way to the top.”
“The Borgia have no code of honor.” Tor shook his head. “About a year ago, the Borgia were caught human trafficking through the ports by members of an Italian Secret Police organization. I wouldn’t put it past Carlo Borgia to make a deal with the government. Think about it, how do you save your own skin? You turn in a bigger fish—a rival.”
“But how does killing Hadrian help the Borgia?” I asked in confusion, my stomach turning at the thought of human trafficking.
Hadrian looked at me. “I’m an utpresser, a professional blackmailer. If I die, everything I know about the five families will become public. That’s the dead man’s switch. If anyone kills me, a whole slew of people go down in flames.”
“But why would the Borgia be okay with their own secrets coming out? That’s what would’ve happened if the assassin had been successful, right?” I asked, still trying to piece it all together.
