by Emma Slate
I yanked my hand away. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“How am I supposed to be asleep when you’re groping me?”
“I’m not groping you,” I said.
“Aye, and that’s the problem.” He cracked his lids. “Can I have some water?”
I nodded and then went to the bedside table and turned on the lamp. I poured him a glass. He was already propped up against the pillows, so it took very little effort to get the liquid and pain pills into him.
“I can’t believe I’m accepting hospitality from the men that stole you from my own home,” he stated. “I wish we were back on my island. I don’t trust your family.”
“That makes two of us,” I remarked dryly. “But you’re not well enough to travel. You need to rest, Hadrian.”
“Where are they?” Hadrian asked.
“Where are what?”
“The rings that cheating, lying, bastard slid onto your finger?” His blue-gray eyes were stormy with anger.
“I gave them to his brother when they carted his body from the arena. You don’t know this, because you passed out, but I spit on his corpse.” I raised my eyebrows. “Does that make you happy?”
“Hardly,” he snapped. “I was supposed to be your first and only husband. That fucker beat me to it.”
“You also made me a widow,” I pointed out dryly. “Besides, the Foscari are devout Catholics and we never consummated the marriage, so…”
He paused for a moment, mulling over his next words. His tone was tempered when he said, “There are some things we need to say to each other. Aye?”
I nodded warily, not at all looking forward to our discussion.
“You have to know that I was coming for you. You trusted that, didn’t you, Sterling?”
“I did,” I promised. “I had faith that you were on your way. Only…”
“Only what?” he prodded.
“Luca told me that he’d only given you a tranquilizer, and I thought for sure you had a plan up your sleeve. But then you didn’t come for me for eight days, Hadrian.”
“My plan was trying to stay alive,” he remarked snidely. “Ingrid found me vomiting and swollen on the floor, barely able to breathe. It wasn’t a moment too soon. Had to take the helicopter to Lerwick. They killed Patrick when he tried to stop them from taking you off the island.”
I nodded and fell silent.
“Tell me the truth, yarta. Did you ever doubt that I’d come for you?”
“I did today,” I admitted and boldly met his eyes. “You don’t know what he was capable of, Hadrian.”
“Tell me.” His voice so gentle I wanted to weep.
“After he told Angelo he’d marry me, he forced me to take a pregnancy test. I didn’t know, Hadrian, I swear it. He tried to kill our child. He beat me and threatened my life if I told my family. And he—he told me after he married me, he’d take me back to his home where there would be a doctor waiting for me to…”
I broke down, sobbing with my face in my hands. I vaguely realized that Hadrian tugged on my arms and soon I was crying against his chest, my cheeks stained with fear and relief.
I wasn’t sure I could admit the rest; the necklace Gisella had given me, the absolute desolation I felt and the destruction of hope, my willingness to go to the grave so that Raphael couldn’t take anything more from me.
“His death was too quick,” he said, brushing his lips across the top of my head. “I wish I had the chance to kill him all over again and make him suffer.”
I swiped the tears from my skin and lifted myself up, mindful of his injured body. “I think it happened the first night we were together.”
“At The Mansion?” he asked.
“Yes. I was on birth control. I didn’t—”
“It’s not your fault. Clearly, I have the seed of a warrior.”
I snorted. “Really, Hadrian?”
“You’re crying all over me. I’m trying to make you feel better. You need to laugh, aye?”
I let out a rueful chuckle and shook my head.
“You didn’t ask me how I feel about it,” he pressed.
“How do you feel about it?” I bit my lip but wasn’t able to hide my worry.
“I didn’t want bairns,” he said slowly. “I never thought I’d have a family. But I didn’t expect to meet anyone like you, Sterling.”
“You don’t have to stay with me,” I blurted out. “The threat of my family is over now. I can live my life out in the open. I can raise the baby and—”
“Woman,” he said with a rueful shake of his head, “I told you I wanted to give you the world and then fought to the death for you gladiator style. If you can’t figure out that you’ll never be alone again, then I don’t know what the hell will convince you.”
My smile quivered. “Does that mean—you love me?”
Hadrian let out a laugh and then winced. “You’re dense. Do you know that?”
I reached out and gently stroked his cheek, feeling the beginnings of a beard. “Do you truly love me? My family is made up of ruthless mercenaries…”
“Say the word, Sterling, and I’ll go to war.”
I blanched. “War? What do you—”
“I promised to protect you and I failed. They almost killed me by accident. They stole you from my home. They married you to a sociopath to further their own gain. Should I go on? Do I need to? Aye, say the word and I’ll wipe the Compagnia Bianca del Falco off the face of the earth. Honor be damned.”
His vow shook me to my core. “I hate my family,” I said slowly. “I hate what they did to my mother. I hate how I was forced to grow up. I hate everything they stand for.” I paused, weighing my options. I thought of Gisella. Innocent, beautiful Gisella, with a constitution of steel. She didn’t deserve the hell Hadrian could rain down on her.
“I want nothing to do with them—except for Gisella,” I voiced. “She was my confidant while I was here, and she never betrayed the truth of my pregnancy. I can’t knowingly have her harmed.”
“I could spare her,” he said easily. “I could kill the rest of them. Hell, I could call the Italian government and have them take care of it for me. I wouldn’t even have to lift a finger.”
I shook my head. “Violence begets violence. It has to end or we’ll never have a moment of peace.”
He paused, lost in thought. “My business relationship with them is done. I’ll keep the information I have on them secret, but only so I can use it against them should they raise a hand to me or mine ever again.”
Hadrian reached out and gently grasped my chin and forced me to meet his gaze. Silvery moonlight cast shadows across his face.
“I came to protect you and bring you home.” His hand dropped to slide down my arm and then covered my belly. “I’ll always protect you.”
The first few days after he was injured, I didn’t leave his bedside. But inevitably, Hadrian told me that he wasn’t going to die and that I needed to leave the bedroom and stretch my legs.
There were plenty of female servants who volunteered to keep vigil, bringing him anything he needed, and spoon-feeding him broth and bread.
“I don’t think you need me at all,” I remarked dryly when I gently crawled into bed one night, pressing a kiss to his brow.
His eyes were closed, but he smiled. “They might feed me and be willing to give me sponge baths, but none of them give me what I really need.”
“A warm, naked body on top of yours?”
He chuckled. “They might, if I asked.”
“You’re so full of yourself, Hadrian Rhys. It’s a good thing I’m not the jealous type.”
Hadrian started to recuperate under the solicitous care of the Compagnia Bianca del Falco, but even when he was resting, I refused to dine with my family. I accepted their hospitality in the form of food and enough time for Hadrian to heal so we could travel back to his island, but no more than that.
My family was dead to me. All except Gisella, who often popped her head into t
he room I shared with Hadrian, asking if I wanted to go for walks or horse rides while he was napping. I said yes to the walks but refused to ride. Now that I knew the baby was healthy and safe, I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it.
Each night, Hadrian stole a touch across my naked body, resting his hand on my belly.
I’d just woken from an afternoon nap when there was a slight knock on the door. I hastily got up and pulled on a robe and looked at Hadrian who was still fast asleep.
I opened the door to see Luca at the threshold. I stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind me, so as not to disturb Hadrian.
“Papà requests your presence at dinner tonight,” he said.
“I’m busy,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Sterling, please,” he said, his voice and expression vulnerable. He ran a hand through his dark hair.
“Please, what?” I snapped. “I’ve been here for days and no apology has passed your lips. Not yours, not your brother’s, not your father’s. You married me off to a sociopath—and for what?”
“Why didn’t you confide in me?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”
I raised my brows. “Aside from the fact that Raphael threatened my life if I told you? I still had hope that Hadrian was coming for me, so I wasn’t going to do anything to endanger my own safety or the life of my child.”
“Sterling, I—”
“Which brings me to another point,” I interrupted. “You wanted me to believe that Hadrian wasn’t coming for me.”
“At first I thought he would, but after days of silence I didn’t think he was coming,” he stated. “I’ve never—I’ve never witnessed that kind of love and devotion before.”
“My mother sacrificed her life to protect me. Hadrian fought to the death for me. You, Tor, all of you did nothing to protect me. You know what I think, Luca Moretti? I think Moretti men are fucking cowards. Get out of my sight. You make me sick.”
Without waiting for his response, I opened the door and went back into the bedroom. I slammed it shut, my breath coming in rapid pants.
“If I hadn’t already been awake, that crashing door would’ve done it,” Hadrian said. He was propped up in bed, and though his expression was amused, his eyes coasted over me, as if looking for physical injuries.
“I’m sorry,” I said, immediately contrite. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“Did you hear my fight with Luca?”
“I think the entire house heard your fight with Luca.”
I rubbed my third eye. “Angelo wants me to have dinner with the family. He used Luca as his messenger.”
Hadrian paused for a moment and then said, “Luca came to see me.”
“What? When?”
“A few days ago. You were out with Gisella.” His eyes met mine. “We discussed…things.”
“Things? What kind of things?”
“Don’t judge your cousin based on your uncle’s actions. He could no more go against his father’s demands and edicts than you could.”
“Are you saying—are you saying I should forgive him?”
“I’m saying Luca isn’t—he’s not as archaic as Angelo. He’s willing to flex with the times.”
“He’s still a Moretti.”
“Aye.”
“He still wants to further his own family’s power.”
“Aye.”
“Stop saying aye,” I barked.
“Your temper and high blood pressure aren’t good for the bairn, yarta.” He patted the spot on the bed next to him.
I reluctantly went to him, dragging my feet.
“You want what’s best for Gisella, don’t you?”
I looked at him in confusion. “Of course I do.”
“What would you be willing to do so that she might be able to marry for love? Hmm? Angelo—he’s too myopic in his world views. But Luca…Luca has the desire to listen. I thought you should know.” He leaned his head back against the pillow and smiled at me.
“How many drugs are in your system?” I asked. “You’re far too levelheaded, and dare I say, docile?”
“Docile? Come here and I’ll show you docile.”
I shook my head. “The doctor said—”
“Hang the doctor. It’s been far too long since I’ve slid inside your—”
“I guess I have no choice but to go to dinner,” I said, rising off the bed before Hadrian could lean over and pull me to him. “It’s for your own health.”
Panting, Hadrian leaned back against the pillows. “Bring me dessert, aye?”
Angelo set down his near empty wine glass and looked at me. “Would you like to join Luca, Tor, and me in the sanctuary for after dinner drinks?”
“I’m pregnant,” I reminded him. “And I thought only men were welcome in the sanctuary.”
“I’ll have a servant bring you hot chocolate,” Angelo said, ignoring my snarky tone. “And as far as the sanctuary goes…there are some matters that need to be addressed and it’s where we do family business.”
“Can I come, Papà?” Gisella begged with wide eyes.
“Maybe when you turn eighteen,” he evaded.
With a feminine pout that would only refine with age, she got up from the table. She kissed her father’s cheek and then went to Luca and flicked his ear.
“Irreverent fragolina,” he teased.
She stuck out her tongue and then went to Tor, who she hugged from behind. Finally, she winked at me and then skipped from the dining room, leaving me alone with the Moretti men. I couldn’t believe she was the same young woman who’d given me a vial of poison I still wore around my neck. She was a chameleon—and then a terrifying thought entered my mind.
What if I had been wrong? What if it wasn’t Luca that was the most dangerous of all? What if Gisella had learned enough at her age to blend into any environment, moving seamlessly from one place to the next with no one knowing who she truly was at any moment?
I’ve underestimated her, badly.
The four of us retired to the sanctuary. The men took their seats—Luca on the light blue couch and Angelo in one of the highbacked chairs by the lit fireplace. I took the matching chair across from him. Tor poured three glasses of fifty-year old ruby port.
A servant knocked on the door and was told to enter. She came in and placed a silver tea tray in front of me on a wooden table. The aroma of hot chocolate hit my nose and I couldn’t help the sigh of appreciation.
“Thank you,” I told her.
She nodded and then discreetly left.
“The Foscari have been in contact,” Angelo said, breaking the silence.
Anger came swift and fast, but I shoved it down. There was no use discussing it. The fight was over. Hadrian had won. At a great cost to himself, but he’d won.
I was free.
“What did Lorenzo have to say?” Luca asked. He took a sip of his port, eyes on his father.
“They’ve confirmed it was the Borgia who sent the assassin to kill Hadrian. They’ve offered their aid in dealing with them.”
“What’s the plan?” Tor asked, his dark eyes glittering with the desire to deliver retribution.
“We’ll torch their ancestral home and kill Carlo. We’ll leave Carlo’s sons alive to bear the shame of their family name, but their business will move elsewhere, and they’ll be impoverished. We won’t hear from them again, and when it’s done, there will be only four families.”
“What about Francesca,” Tor voiced.
Angelo took a long swallow of his port before replying. “There will be another marriage…”
“Oh?” Luca asked, his cheeks suddenly flushed in the dim light of the sanctuary.
“Yes. You will marry her,” Angelo said. “It will keep the Borgia from retaliating.”
Luca stared at his father and for the first time since I’d known him, I felt like I was seeing who Luca really was. Hadrian’s words about my cousin came back to me.
&n
bsp; A flash of anger and hatred burned in Luca’s eyes but disappeared just as quickly.
“Do I have a choice in the matter?” Luca asked, his voice tight.
“It’s past time you marry and do your duty in producing a Moretti heir.”
Father and son never took their eyes off one another. Finally, Luca raised his glass in the air. “To my future wife.”
Tor glanced at his brother, but then he drank the rest of his port in commiseration of his brother’s toast.
Luca finished his drink. “You’ll see to the arrangements? You’ll let me know when to put the call out to our men?”
Angelo nodded.
“Fine.” Luca stood and with a chin nod at me, he left the room. Tor also rose, and without so much as a fare-thee-well, stalked after his brother.
“That was sneaky and rotten of you,” I said.
“I do what has to be done for the family,” Angelo said, peering into the fire.
“Right, the family,” I said. I leaned my head against the chair in sudden exhaustion.
“You’re a Moretti. Whether you want to be or not. Even when you marry Hadrian, you will still be a Moretti. You will always be a Moretti.”
“And therefore a pawn in your elaborate chess game? I reject the burden that comes with the Moretti name.”
“It doesn’t matter what you want. Blood is blood.”
“Did you love my mother?” I asked suddenly.
“Of course I loved her. She was impossible not to love.”
“And yet her happiness was never a thought, never considered.”
“My happiness was never a thought, never considered.” His eyes darkened. “I had an arranged marriage. The only happiness that came from that union were my children. That’s all Moretti—or any of the five families—can hope for.”
I shook my head. “Sad. So incredibly sad. Lives wasted. And for what? Arranged marriages, unions that breed only hatred.”
“You won’t change our ways, Sterling.”
“I know,” I said.
“Then what is it you want?”
“I’m lost to you,” I said. “I want Hadrian, and he wants me.”
“That’s already been decided,” Angelo stated.
“I’m carrying his baby. You have no claim on my child. If I bear a son, he will not become a Moretti mercenary. If I bear a daughter, she will not be a pawn to marry off.”
