Cards of Love: The Emperor: A Dark Romance

by Fawn Bailey

  By the end of that winter, two of their sons were dead, leaving only small children and the Marinos' daughter behind. The curse continued, not one of the men reaching old age, and rarely even past their thirties.

  I learned my father had kept the stone in the family. All of the men before him, including my grandfather, were too superstitious to sell it, but they were greedy men who wanted money, and instead of just giving the stone away as the curse demanded, they held on to it, trying to outlive the curse.

  I remembered the diamond from when I was a kid, before my father sold it. How he'd shown it to me in his office, told me not to believe in curses. That I should be a brave, strong boy. That curses weren't real.

  I repeated those words to myself every day, and yet, even after my father sold it, I was convinced I was cursed. That made me follow the diamond's journey through the world as it crossed from one pair of hands to another. Finally, my search brought me to the Tanaka brothers, who'd only recently acquired the stone.

  I offered them an astronomical payment for it, and they weren't able to resist. But apparently my offer had come too late—they'd already lost two of their own.

  Now the stone was back in my hands. But what the fuck was I going to do with it? Was I cursed twice now, or had the curse lifted once I owned the stone again? Either way, I felt as if a ticking clock were hanging above me, counting the minutes until my whole life went to hell.

  I'd resumed the role of Massimo, my ancestor. Living in Venice, with the cursed stone, trying to convince myself I didn't believe in such nonsense while the diamond kept ruining my life.

  Of fucking course I was blaming the Cursed Beauty.

  What else was I supposed to do?

  The only other option was to blame myself.

  And I couldn't bear that.

  So I became obsessed with the story.

  I followed it to its roots and wouldn't stop until I found the diamond. But even now that it was in my hands, I didn't feel complete.

  I knew what the problem was. I knew what my dick, my body, my mind, my heart, my fucking soul craved most, and it wasn't a goddamned blue diamond.

  It was Ginger, my sweet, innocent Ginger, whom I'd let slip between my fingers so easily, as if she'd never meant anything at all, when really she'd been the most important person in my life.

  God, how I wanted her back. After keeping my eyes firmly closed for years, I knew I needed her back. The memory of our past hit me hard, and I couldn't get over it. Now every thought, every memory was consumed by her. Only her. Astor could never compare.

  I'd done the only right thing by ending it with the poor girl. I'd strung her along long enough.

  Every day that week, I woke up in an empty bed after dreaming of Ginger. The dreams became darker and darker, making me wake up with a hard-on I had to get rid of in the shower, covering the tiles in a mix of creamy cum and the hot water spraying from above.

  Goddamn, I wanted her. I wanted her back.

  Thoughts of finding her, forcefully bringing her back to me, wouldn't leave me alone. She was so fucking stubborn, her own behavior rivaled only by my own. I was going to fuck that attitude out of her. And I was going to make her call me Daddy again.

  The mere memory of how she'd done that made me harder than ever.

  I'd never let another woman call me that, even though some had asked.

  For some reason, it was saved especially for Ginger, because of that special tenderness we'd experienced together. It wouldn't sound right from any other woman. I needed her to say it. Only her.

  After a week of this fucking madness, I woke up with the hint of a word on my tongue.

  It was something I remembered, something from her past.

  I'd tried so hard to conjure memories of what she'd told me, of anything significant. And now there it was, a phantom memory, a whispered confession from Ginger as she lay in my bed.

  She'd told me some of her past, and now I was finally going to find her.

  But I was going to find her my-fucking-self.

  The PIs weren't enough.

  She was hiding, and Kain wasn't helping me, so I'd take matters into my own hands.

  I walked out of my bedroom in a Dolce & Gabbana suit, my hair slicked back and my beard trimmed. I knew I looked better than I had in weeks, and the shy glances of a maid sweeping the remnants of a broken glass and blushing when I walked past convinced me I was right.

  On any other day, I would've ripped that sinfully tight little uniform right off her body until the buttons flew all over the room. I would've fucked her, taken her, right then and there. But I held back, not even needing to restrain myself. My mind was on one woman and one woman only.

  Ginger.

  I headed into my office where the last PI was waiting for me. He was a handsome man, a little older and shorter than me, with heavily accented English and ties to the mafia that I didn't particularly want to know about.

  In Venice, I was L'Imperatore, not Ryker. I wasn't my father's son, but an entity of my own. My past didn't follow me at every step; I could be who I wanted to be, and I was respected for it.

  "Hello, Signore Marino," the PI, Alberti, said hurriedly. "So good to see you. I hope you've had a pleasant summer."

  "You too, Alberti," I replied stiffly. "Any news about the case you're working on?"

  He shook his head and then filled the silence with nonsense about his research, which was—as I'd predicted—leading nowhere.

  I was disappointed. He'd been the one to track down the diamond, and I'd hoped that success would be repeated with my mystery girl.

  "Let me stop you right there, Alberti. I want to be more closely involved. And I remembered something that might help."

  "What's that, sir?" he asked curiously.

  "I had a dream," I said. "I seem to recall the mention of a name, of a city. Perhaps it will help you with your search."

  "Yes." He nodded eagerly. "What was the city?"

  "She grew up there," I said. "It was called Honey, or Harkney, or something like that. Ended with hock. Honeyhock? No, that isn't quite it."

  "I will find it," he assured me. "And you're certain Ginger is her real name?"

  "Yes. She wouldn't lie to me about it."

  The PI nodded and wrote something in a notebook. "Do you remember anything else about the town?"

  "Only one thing," I replied. "It had an asylum."

  "A… what?"

  Sometimes he didn't understand every word I said, so I smiled and explained, "A madhouse, Alberti. It had a madhouse."

  8

  Ginger

  That night, I fell into a sleep interrupted by nightmare after nightmare. I dreamed of Astor, of Allegra, of our parents. Past intertwined with the present in my dreams, and I woke up panting in a cold sweat.

  The hotel was even dingier in the morning light, but I figured I wouldn't be spending much time there anyway.

  I briefly wondered whether there was any point in finding Astor, as it seemed like she was just biding her time before she made an appearance. But I needed to find her, perhaps to prove to myself that I could still control her.

  There was no doubt that my testimony had changed her life forever. She was in the Hollyhock Asylum because of me. She was a prisoner because of me. But did I regret it?

  The answer was no.

  The events of the past week had only managed to convince me that she really was dangerous, and I needed to watch out for her. She wanted to hurt me, and possibly others too. She had a dangerous mind.

  I grabbed a chocolate pastry on my way from the hotel, and walked into the center of the city even though it was quite far away. It was a pleasant fall day, if a little chilly. I wrapped my coat tightly around my body and kept an eye on my surroundings.

  I was convinced Astor was watching me, probably laughing at me from somewhere I wouldn't notice her.

  Soon I would have to decide what I was going to do once I found her. As far as I was concerned, she was a danger to society. I
had no doubt that she'd caused the fire at the asylum just like she had at our home. She couldn't be left to wander the world by herself; she would only end up hurting more people.

  A danger to herself and others. That was the phrase the policemen kept repeating eight years ago. She needed to be behind bars. Only after hours of my pleading did they agree a mental institution might be a better fit. I was grateful for that small mercy, but the guilt didn't stop for a second.

  I tucked into my pastry as I reached the Piazza San Marco. It was beautiful, so picturesque that I pulled out my phone and took a couple of shots of the gorgeous area. I was looking at the pictures, zooming in on something, when I noticed a store sign.

  I looked up, locating the sign on the street.

  Tarot readings.

  It was almost impossible to resist the pull, my feet carrying me there almost by themselves.

  The shop was small, in the ground floor of a gorgeous townhouse, with nothing in the front except the handwritten sign. I used the knocker shaped like a lion with its mouth open, showing his teeth.

  A moment later, the door opened, but there was nobody behind it. The whole thing sent a chill down my spine, but a voice in my head encouraged me to enter.

  Somehow, this seemed like another one of Astor's twisted games, but I was playing along.

  A part of me was desperate to see my sister again. I missed her. I felt alone in the world so often, every time I fell asleep without anyone out there who cared about me.

  Misery clouded me that I'd betrayed her. Yes, she was responsible for the tragic fire in Hollyhock, but she was still my sister. I'd never talked to her about what had happened. I'd just pushed it to the back of my mind, refusing to acknowledge that she may have had her reasons, or perhaps an explanation for what happened. I never asked.

  "Hello?" I called out into the townhouse. "Anybody home?"

  I followed the hallway through a curtain of tiny beaded skulls and found a small room with a round table and two chairs. A dark purple tablecloth lay over the table, and a woman appeared from the back room.

  She was about my age, stunningly beautiful with black veils on her body, gloves covering her hands. Her eyes were emerald green, her hair a dark brown, and she was petite and curvy, the kind of beauty you struggled to look away from. She took over the room.

  "Hello," I said awkwardly. "I saw the sign upfront... you do tarot readings?"

  "Si. Americana?"

  "Yes." I nodded, remembering the few lines I'd memorized from my travel guide. "Parli inglese?"

  "A little," she replied, her accent barely noticeable. "Not as well as you, I'm sure."

  She motioned for me to sit down and join her at the table.

  "Who are you looking for?" she asked, and I gave her a sideways glance.

  Was she that good, or was I that obvious?

  "My sister," I said softly. "I think… I think she lives her now."

  "Yes." She nodded, a slight hint of annoyance in her voice. "But there is somebody else. A man?"

  I gave her a blank stare before the puzzle pieces came together in my head.

  "Oh," I whispered. "That."

  "He is your lover?"

  I laughed nervously. "Hardly. There was something between us, but… that was a long time ago."

  "He still thinks of you, you know," she told me, picking up a tarot deck. "Just like you do of him."

  I stared at her, unwilling to respond.

  "Do you have a question for the cards?" she asked.

  "I… how much are the readings?"

  I didn't want to be rude, but my wallet wasn't exactly bursting at the seams.

  "Already been paid for." She waved her hand dismissively.

  "By who?" I raised my brows, and the woman chuckled.

  "You really have to ask?"

  I didn't.

  Somehow Astor was behind this too.

  How did she know every step I would take before I even got there? It was like she had eyes everywhere.

  This was dangerous. Well, it could be.

  My eyes drank in the woman before me.

  "What's your name?" I asked her.

  Her bright green eyes turned to mine, and she glared.

  "Valentina."

  Somehow, I believed her.

  "A question for the cards?" she reminded me.

  I nodded. “I have something.”

  She started laying the cards on the table, her eyes widening when she saw the reading.

  “Here's the moon,” she said. “You’re unsure of something. You don’t want to listen to your voice of reason, but soon enough you’ll have to.”

  Another card.

  “The devil,” she went on. “A sexual reawakening will happen. Very soon. Perhaps sooner than you think.”

  I laughed at the thought. I hadn’t been with anyone since Ryker, and I sincerely doubted that would change in Venice of all places.

  “And finally, the star,” she said. “Resolution.”

  “So I’ll meet a tall, dark stranger and live happily ever after, all my problems solved?” I asked, barely able to hide the note of sarcasm in my voice.

  “Not quite.” She smiled politely. “He might not be dark, but he will be tall and handsome. Perhaps someone from your past.”

  I ignored what she’d said, though my feelings were battling inside my head. Ryker had black hair.

  "Did somebody pay you?" I asked her, and she turned her striking eyes to mine.

  "What do you mean?"

  "For this reading," I managed to get out. "Did someone tell you what to say?"

  "Are you doubting me? Or are you doubting your own story?"

  I remained stubbornly quiet, glaring at Valentina.

  "I don't know your secrets." She shook her head dismissively. "The cards told them to me. You came in here by yourself. You wanted to know. Don't fight it, Ginger."

  "Ginger?" I repeated, my heart pounding a million times a minute. "I never told you my name. Don't tell me the cards told you that too."

  "No," she replied slyly. "That was your sister. She paid for your reading."

  I pushed the chair back from the table, my eyes frantically searching the dark interior of the room.

  "Where is she?" I cried out. "You don't understand. She could be dangerous. She could hurt you."

  "She's not here." She shrugged, placing the tarot deck in her pocket after tying it up with a ribbon. "It was my day off, but she came here this morning and asked me to put a sign out. Said someone would stop by."

  "How did she know I'd come here?" I asked shakily.

  "It's the Piazza San Marco." She shrugged again. "Everyone comes here. And I assume you enjoy tarot?"

  "We used to play with the cards," I admitted. "When we were little girls.”

  “Tarot?” she asked, and I nodded. “You and your sister?”

  “Both of them.” My voice was rough. “They were twins. Astor and Allegra.”

  “What happened to the other sister?”

  I closed my eyes tightly at the memories.

  I didn’t need to answer her questions, yet the need to confide in her was strong. I wanted someone else to help me with my burden, to help me decide what in the ever-loving hell I was supposed to do about Astor.

  “I need to go,” I muttered, pushing my chair back from the table. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s just too much.”

  “I understand. Go, Ginger. You need to find your own destiny. I can only hint at it.”

  I managed a weak smile before stumbling out of the dark room.

  In the piazza, the sun hit me like a thousand bricks and I stumbled back to the hotel. The walk was long, and I got lost more than once on my way back, but I couldn’t bear the thought of being outside much longer.

  Once again, I had failed. I was so useless. I’d never find Astor this way.

  “Your room has been cleared,” the concierge informed me.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, trying to stop my voice from trembling. “I pai
d for a three-night stay already.”

  “The money has been refunded to your card. Someone booked another hotel for you. They also left something for you.”

  He handed me one of the cream boxes I’d come to know so well, and I opened it hastily. I wasn’t surprised at the things inside, but still, seeing the cards from just an hour ago was a shock.

  They were the same three the woman in the plaza had drawn, accompanied by Astor’s signature note, written with the creepy hearts above the i’s.

  Coming closer and closer. Thought we should meet in style. Can’t wait to discover all your secrets again, Ginger.

  My blood ran cold.

  “Where am I supposed to stay now?” I asked the concierge.

  “The Palazzo. A car is waiting for you. Your luggage was sent ahead.”

  “Who packed it?”

  “The… person who paid,” he replied, his eyes apologetic.

  I stormed out of there.

  She was meddling in my life when she had no business doing so, and it was making me fucking angry.

  But like the concierge had said, a car was waiting for me. I climbed into the vehicle without a single word, and we drove straight into the city center in front of the most amazing building.

  It was right on the canal, surrounded by water except from the side where the driver let me out. Bellboys rushed to help me, even though there was nothing for them to do.

  I was shown to a glorious room, the likes of which I hadn’t seen since Kain’s house where he lived with Ophelia.

  It was opulent, dripping with luxury. Everything that could be gold was, and I was enchanted by the beauty of the place.

  Still, nothing made sense to me.

  As far as I knew, Astor hated me.

  So why the hell was she paying for me to stay at this place?

  9

  Ginger

  I slept like a baby in that hotel bed, and it seemed to change everything.

  I enjoyed breakfast in my room and chose not to worry about my sister’s ulterior motives. I just wanted to see her.

  The longing to see a family member was stronger than I would have imagined. I thought I’d severed all my ties when I left Hollyhock, but now I was desperate to see someone who was related to me. The last blood relative I had.