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“Go to sleep.” His knuckles crack in my ear. “Or I’ll put you to sleep myself.”
What hurts more than knowing the contract never meant a thing is knowing Angelo knew it too. We shared secrets. Dark and twisted ones. I thought… I dig my fingernails into my palms. I thought he was different.
While his voice is firm, when I meet his gaze, his eyes are soft. They search mine under knitted brows. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Of course I care,” he growls, “I think I’ve made that very fucking clear.”
“You saw me as nothing but a plaything, something to amuse you while you were back on the Coast. I bet it was exciting to you, knowing you could have your uncle’s fiancee at the snap of your damn fingers.” “You’re insane,” he murmurs, gripping my jaw. “If you think I’m anything but crazy about you, Rory, then you’re fucking insane.”
Eyes stinging and my cheeks blistering from embarrassment, I twist out of his grasp and storm toward the house. Christ, it was a stupid idea. I shouldn’t have even alluded to it. As if he’d give up his life in London and move back to a tiny town that haunts him so much, all because of me.
“Rather you than me,” Tor mutters, taking a swig.
“Maybe we should sedate him,” one mutters. “Or hope he falls down the stairs and breaks his neck,” the other sniggers back.
“Don’t move.” I tilt my head up in defiance. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.” His nostrils flare. “I’m not playing games. You’re not going up there.” “I don’t have a choice.” “Because I’m not giving you one.”
My fingernails carve half-moons into my palms. “Are you staying?” “Rory—” “Are you staying?” I repeat, louder this time. “Are you going to stay on the Coast, take over Devil’s Dip and protect me, my father, and the Preserve from your uncle? Or are you going to leave me to fight this on my own?”
“Use your words, Angelo,” I spit at him, mimicking what he often says to me. “You know I can’t.”
“I’ll let him claim my ass, and even my pussy, if that’s what it takes.” Another step. “I’ll moan his name, just like I moaned yours. But unlike you, he’ll get to put his hands all over my body. Wherever he wants.” The thought makes the backs of my eyes prickle with tears, but I blink hard, and keep ascending the stairs slowly.
The pure, unfiltered anger in Angelo’s voice stops me in my tracks. I spin around to face him. He’s standing on the bottom step, glaring at me, hands clenched at his sides. “So help me God, if you take another step, I will not be responsible for what I’ll do.”
“You’re not a made man, anymore. Remember?” I spit. “You’re just dressed like one.” His gaze blisters my back as I walk up the stairs and slip into the bedroom. Plunged into darkness, I press my back against the cold door and breathe. He let me go. Of course he did. He’s no better than them—he told me that himse...
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Perhaps Alberto would have been too drunk to remember the way Angelo spoke to him, but Tor wasn’t.
Angelo Visconti doesn’t care about me, so I shouldn’t care about him.
Donatello glances at me. Swallows. “There was only one guard working the gate, and the perpetrator shot him dead on the way out.”
He comes to a stop behind the sofa, casting a dark shadow over me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my skin crackles with electricity, like it always does when he’s near.
I feel Rafe’s gaze scorch my cheek. When I force myself to look up at him, he pins me with a dazzling smile, one that doesn’t match the dark storm in his eyes. “You’re proving to be trouble, girl.” His voice is equal parts calm and sinister and sends a shiver down my spine. It’s a threat, one delivered with a smile, and it makes me realize that underneath the charm and the heart-breaker good looks, Raphael Visconti is terrifying.
“Rory, we’re leaving.”
“You could have killed me last night.” And you told me what I didn’t want to hear. “I wanted to kill you last night,” he growls back, without missing a beat. “I want to fucking kill you today, too.”
My gaze flicks to Rafe, who’s watching the exchange in amusement.
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage for one weekend?” “Then don’t make me do any more. We’re leaving. Now.” We glare at each other.
I’m fearful of what Angelo will do. I can see it in his eyes—he’s crazed, dishing out revenge like it’s candy, and I can’t give Alberto any more reasons to be angry at me.
I ignore Rafe’s smirk and stomp toward the front door, Angelo hot on my heels.
“You think I don’t know you fucked half the guys at Devil’s Coast Academy? I didn’t believe it at first, but now seeing how quickly you went up those stairs last night, I don’t doubt it for a second.”
The car skids to a sudden halt, the tires screeching against the slick road. I lurch forward, the seat belt cutting into my neck. When I whip around to ask Angelo what the hell he’s playing at, he’s pinning me with a dangerous glare. “Say that again.” The ice in his tone forms a lump in my throat. “What?” His fists clench on his lap. “An even bigger beating. What does that mean?” His glare is molten, so hot I cower again the door to get away from him.
Angelo Visconti doesn’t have the right to be so angry. His gaze falls to my mouth again, and suddenly, it softens. With his other hand, he runs a gentle thumb over my bottom lip, and I feel it in the bundle of nerve endings between my thighs. “He did this to you,” he murmurs, more to himself than me. “Why didn’t you tell me, Rory?” “Would it have made a difference?” I whisper. “Would it have made you stay?”
“You’re coming home with me.” My heart stutters. “Home?” “To London. You and your father.” I shake my head, feeling breathless. “I can’t.”
It makes me want to burn the entire fucking coast down.
She lets go of my jacket and brushes her fingers over my clenched fist. Her hand is warm and delicate, and immediately, I open my hand and slide hers inside. Fuck the “no touching” rule. That went out the window the moment I saw her busted lip.
I don’t care either; all I can focus on is how good it feels to have her hand in mine.
He drags his eyes over my tailored suit and Italian wool jacket and scowls. “You’re way too old to be my daughter’s boyfriend.” I laugh. Yeah, if you think I’m old, you should see her real fucking boyfriend.
I keep my smile frozen on my face but shift my gaze to Rory. Her father thinks she’s still studying to be a pilot? Something cracks in my chest, something too foreign to put a name to.
But the feeling in my chest is marred by something bitter, something I have no right to feel. I wish I made her come alive like that.
“Environmental dementia. It’s when a patient’s long-term memory only functions in certain familiar environments. For my father, it’s this forest. Walking around the woods or being on the lake, he’s just my dad. But…” I feel her throat bob against my palm as she swallows. “The moment he leaves the Preserve, or even goes inside our own house, his long-term memory goes.”
“He doesn’t recognize me outside of the forest, Angelo. That’s why it can’t be knocked down, and that’s why we can’t leave. What my father and I have, it doesn’t exist outside of it.”
It’s a prison, but if I don’t willingly walk through the door today and lock myself behind its bars, I’ll only make it worse for myself and my father. “Angelo I—” “Not another word.” The sharpness of his tone slices my protest in half.
“Stop, Angelo.” My hand shoots out to grip his bicep, and I feel it flex under my touch. “Please.” Now, it’s my voice that’s the most vulnerable part of me. “You’re being selfish.”
“If you think I’m letting you go back there and be man-handled by that drunken cunt, you must be smoking crack.” His glare burns against my cut lip, and instinctively, I clamp my top lip over it.
“Are you going to stay?” His eyes flash. A beat passes. “I’m going to get you out of this.” “That’s not what I asked.”
“You’re not thinking straight.” “Yeah, you seem to have that effect on me.”
Dropping his hands a few inches until they meet my hips, he pulls me closer to his body, rubbing me slowly up the length of him. The friction sparks like a live wire.
I respond by arching my back and grinding against him. His moan is guttural and the way it vibrates against my neck sends my head spinning. I drop the gun into my lap and close my eyes, drinking in every last drop of this delicious moment. I feel safe, warm. Excited.
It should have been you. It should have been Angelo’s door I ran to when I heard the Devil’s Preserve was going to be knocked down. I should have sunk to my knees on his doorstep; should have signed my name in blood at the bottom of his contract. But some twisted turn of fate meant he was an ocean away, and I was left to make an empty deal with a man who makes my blood curdle.
“Not too late, Magpie,” he murmurs darkly. “I can take you back to Devil’s Dip right now.” His teeth scrape the shell of my ear. “You’d look good in my bed.”
In another life.
“Out of all my sins, you’re my favorite.”
I don’t know what my revenge will be yet, but I do know that it won’t be petty.
Amelia stares at me, wide-eyed and happy. But there’s a flicker of desperation in her eyes, and suddenly, I realize I was wrong about her. She’s not the innocent outsider that believes I’m marrying Alberto for true love. No, she’s willfully ignorant. She knows exactly what’s going on, and yet, she’d rather sit still and let me drown than get up and rock the boat.
