by Emma Slate
“Stay with me,” he said. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” There was a long pause as his skin began to warm beneath the blanket and then he said, “I dream about her. About finding her in the alley…”
I placed my forehead against the side of his head and closed my eyes. I couldn’t imagine the type of nightmares that plagued him. But I understood wanting to change the past.
Lightning flashed over the ocean. The storm wasn’t over after all.
“Come back to bed, Hadrian,” I said quietly.
“I’ll be there in a bit.”
Ingrid served us breakfast on the balcony, but before she left, Hadrian told her to prepare for the visitors coming in a few days. She inclined her head and told him she’d see to it before leaving us alone.
I picked at the eggs in front of me, but Hadrian ate with verve and quickly cleared his plate. He dabbed his mouth with the linen napkin and then set it aside. He grabbed his steaming hot coffee and lifted the mug in his hand before looking at me.
“Is there something wrong with your food?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Then why aren’t you eating?” he demanded.
I picked up my fork and cut off a bite of egg before placing it in my mouth. I chewed for a few moments and then swallowed, and as much as I wanted to force another piece into my mouth, my stomach rolled at the thought.
“Are you all right? You look pale,” he said, his hand reaching out to touch my face.
“I’m fine,” I said and then forced a smile. “Didn’t sleep well.”
He nodded, his brow furrowed. “You’re not having regrets about telling me who you are, are you?”
I adamantly shook my head.
“Then what is it? Tell me so I can alleviate your concerns.”
“If only it were that easy.” I’d had Ingrid bring me tea instead of coffee, and I took a sip of the soothing chamomile. “It’s overwhelming, Hadrian. I’ve been on the run since I was a child, even though I didn’t realize it. Then my mother killed herself. I spent months living in motels trying to figure out how to get a job under the table without providing any information and blew all the cash she left me. When I finally found work, it only paid for a shitty basement apartment and Ramen noodles. There were some days I ate one meal… It was so hard, you don’t understand—”
“I don’t understand? I lived on the streets of Edinburgh and fought for my money.”
“You’re right, I didn’t mean—”
“You’re not alone in this, Sterling. The nightmare is over now.”
“Is it?” My brow wrinkled as I turned pensive. “I didn’t expect to care about you, Hadrian. Now that I do, I’m afraid I made a mistake by staying. What if you’re in danger because of me? I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you because of who I am. I never should’ve taken this contract. I never should’ve let it get this far.”
He leaned back in his chair and studied me. “Do you really think you had a choice?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t have done to seduce you into coming to my island.”
“I should’ve done more to resist you.”
“It’s impossible to resist me.”
I smiled absently as I sipped my tea. If only I was a normal girl, and I’d come here without any baggage. My situation had complicated our lives together.
“We need to discuss how things are going to go when your family is here,” Hadrian said. “I’ve invited them to discuss what happened to me, but I haven’t mentioned you yet.”
I let out a slow exhale. “So they don’t know about me?”
“No. I’ll call you Eden in their presence up until it’s time to discuss your situation. You will stand by my side and act as my hostess.”
“Do we have to tell them?” I exclaimed. “I mean, they don’t know about me. Maybe they’ll never find out about me.”
Hadrian leaned over and placed his large hand on my arm. “I told you: You can’t live your life on the run. What would that look like for us? Hmm? You, stuck here on my island because we don’t know if there’s a trail? The rest of your life spent making sure the Foscari don’t ever learn of your whereabouts? No, Sterling. We’re going to tell your family and I’m going to pay whatever it is I have to pay to buy your freedom, and then we get to move on with our lives.”
I set down my mug and got up from the table. I perched in his lap and wrapped my arms around him, needing the strength of him to be real. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Hadrian Rhys.”
His large hand stole across my back. “And here I was, thinking the same thing about you.”
The air between us had changed. There were no longer any secrets. The veil had been lifted, and we were together as one.
United.
Committed to each other in a way I’d never expected.
I trusted him implicitly. I trusted him to protect me from the ruthlessness of the Compagnia Bianca de Falco.
He took me to bed, a relentless, feral beast. It was as if he was proving to me and to himself that he was the one in control. I cried out and tightened around him from the all-consuming pleasure, giving another piece of myself to Hadrian. In his bed, I found honesty and truth. I found absolution and safety. I found what I hadn’t ever expected to find.
A few days later, I stood slightly behind him, prepared to greet the four Moretti men that Hadrian had invited into his home. Wind from the sea whipped the hair I had tied back into a ponytail across my shoulders as Hadrian and I waited on the roof.
“Even though the Moretti and I have a mutually beneficial business relationship, I would never call Angelo a friend. He would never call me a friend either, and it’s rare that these men do business with non-Italians.”
“So, why do they do business with you?”
He shot me an amused look. “Power is power. Even they can’t deny that. I’m not a billionaire by chance, Sterling.”
Was Hadrian’s power enough to get me out of this clusterfuck of a situation?
Helicopter engines growled into existence, and a silver metal beast appeared in the sky as the beating of its rotors sprayed mist through the air. It landed on a giant “H” on Hadrian’s helipad.
The door of the helicopter opened, and a man wearing a three-piece gray suit climbed out.
Huge. Bold. He strode with purpose, embodying wealth and luxury. His dark hair had threads of gray at the temples and was tastefully gelled off his forehead. His face betrayed no emotion whatsoever as he approached Hadrian. His skin was a naturally healthy bronze, and though his brow was furrowed with wrinkles, I couldn’t tell his age.
Three men dressed in a similar fashion trailed behind him, all with the same dark hair and eyes.
The helicopter’s rotors flattened, and the wind and sound diminished at once as the engines began to settle in a high-pitched, dying whine.
Hadrian grasped the man’s outstretched palm when he was within distance.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Hadrian said in flawless Italian.
“My pleasure,” the man returned politely as his dark gaze slid to me.
Hadrian reached behind me to drag me forward so he could drape his arm around me in a show of possession. “This is Eden.”
The man held out his hand, and I set my palm against his. His skin was warm and smooth. “Angelo,” he greeted in English. “Pleasure.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” I replied, trying not to gape at the man who was my uncle.
Angelo peered at Hadrian’s battered face. “What happened to you?”
“I’ll explain later. You’re welcome to speak in your native tongue while you’re here,” Hadrian said. “Eden speaks fluent Italian.”
I detected a flicker of interest enter Angelo’s expression before he hid it. “We will discuss pleasantries in English and business in Italian. You are our host, and I will honor you by speaking in your native tongue.”
Hadrian nodded.
Angelo dropped my hand and turned to the men behind him. “My younger brother, Nico. My heir, Luca. My second eldest, Tor.”
The three men inclined their heads, but otherwise remained silent. Nico was thinner than Angelo, his nose more aquiline. He wasn’t nearly as compelling to look at. Luca and Tor resembled their father, but while Luca’s face appeared open and curious, Tor’s remained shuttered. He stared at me underneath thick dark brows, and I had to stop myself from shivering. There was something unnerving in his solid, milk-chocolate gaze.
I tried not to stare at the men I was related to, but I kept stealing glances in an attempt to take them in.
Hadrian had informed me that no business would be discussed until pleasantries and decorum had been exchanged.
“We have refreshments waiting for you on the rooftop terrace,” I said with a red-lipped smile. “The rain will hold a bit longer. Would you like to take a few minutes and enjoy the view?”
I felt Hadrian’s coiled tension like it was my own.
He turned his attention to Nico, and then Angelo swooped in immediately and offered me his arm in a gesture of old-world, gentlemanly charm. My hand trembled when I touched him.
“Hadrian didn’t mention a woman would be here with him,” Angelo said. We glided away from the helipad toward the other side of the roof.
He didn’t sound upset, but he was clearly fishing for information. “And he definitely didn’t mention it would be a woman who speaks Italian.”
I forced a smile but didn’t reply. It was better to say as little as possible. Fear—and revulsion—were dueling inside of me. This man, Angelo, was my mother’s older brother. Instead of protecting her, he’d gone along with their father’s edict and attempted to marry her off to the Foscari.
I hated him.
Everything about him and what he stood for was vile. I hated that he was the head of the Moretti family and with his power he could control the outcome of my life.
Hate was better than fear, but I commanded myself to stay calm. No good would come of letting my emotions get the better of me. Hadrian would take care of the situation, and then I’d never have to see these people ever again.
One end of the rooftop deck had expensive lounge chairs nestled underneath a small white tent. A man in a black chef’s coat and hat stood behind a long rectangular glass table with at least ten chafing dishes. A server waited at a portable stainless-steel bar with his hands behind his back in a show of stoic professionalism.
Ingrid had ensured everything was ready for Angelo’s impending arrival. Because money was no object when Hadrian wanted something, it had all been handled quickly and without issue.
“We have everything you could want,” I said to Angelo, guiding him to the bar. “Italian sodas, amaros—”
“I don’t want to eat and drink the same things I’d eat and drink at home,” Angelo said, interrupting me. “I’m not in Italy, am I?”
I blinked, unprepared for such a twist. “I thought you’d want to be comfortable—”
“I’m always comfortable,” he said, his tone dark. “Except when someone tries to think for me.”
He stared at me and I stared back. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Hadrian gesture to the chef. The other men clearly didn’t share Angelo’s feelings and instead took the offered plates.
I looked at the bartender and said, “Two glasses of SINNERS, please. Three drops of water in each.”
The bartender quickly made the drinks and handed them over.
Angelo lifted the glass of scotch to his nose and inhaled and then took a sip. I watched him roll the liquid gold around his mouth, but he still didn’t show any emotion at all.
I took a small sip of my own drink despite the fact that I planned to remain sober. I didn’t want alcohol to nourish my rage. I had to keep my head about me.
Time in Hadrian’s presence had begun to change me, and I now enjoyed the bold, peaty flavor of SINNERS scotch.
Without a word, Angelo left the bar and went to recline in one of the comfortable chairs. His sons were already sitting with plates of food resting on their laps.
Nico stood at the edge of the rooftop deck, gazing out across the horizon, but then eventually wandered to the lounge furniture and took a seat. Ignoring the men, I went to the table of food and made myself a plate of homemade burrata and heirloom tomatoes. I thanked the chef with a smile and then took the plate to the balcony and rested it on the wall. I was in the middle of chewing when Luca, Angelo’s heir apparent—and my cousin—came to stand next to me.
The ocean air whipped his dark hair and the sunlight highlighted his patrician nose and sculpted mouth. He looked at me and grinned.
I gazed at him, wary.
“Eden,” he said, my name rolling off his tongue, “tell me something.”
I arched a brow and waited.
“You’re not really as compliant as you appear to be, are you?”
“What makes you think that?”
He cocked his head to the side and examined me. “I can see the fire in your eyes.”
I didn’t like that he was attempting to figure me out. “You have far too much Italian charm.”
“An Italian can never have too much charm,” he quipped. “Besides, I get it from my father. DNA doesn’t lie.”
I looked in Hadrian’s direction; he was engaged in conversation with Nico and Angelo.
“How did you meet Hadrian? He’s something of a recluse, no?” Luca asked, pulling my attention back to him.
“Ramsey Buchanan introduced us.”
Luca nodded slowly. “Ramsey. Yes, that makes sense.”
“You know Ramsey?”
“I know Ramsey,” he repeated. “We have…history.”
What history could Ramsey Buchanan possibly have with The White Company? I wondered.
Luca nodded toward the ocean. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is.”
“I’m not sure I could stand the weather here, or the fact that it gets dark early in the winter.”
“Getting dark early in the winter also means it stays light late in the summer.”
“Have you been here through a winter?”
“Not yet.”
“But you’re staying.”
“I’d like to,” I answered truthfully.
Something passed between us, but I wasn’t sure what it was. Luca hadn’t come right out and asked who I was to Hadrian, or what I meant to him, but his curiosity was palpable.
“I’ve never been to Italy,” I said in an attempt to turn the conversation. “What’s it like where you live?”
“A quintessential postcard. Vineyards as far as the eye can see. The earth…it smells like—like warmth, and you can tell that it’s alive. It’s nothing like this wild, barren country.”
Despite my desire to remain aloof, I had Luca’s undivided attention. He wasn’t the only one who was curious though, so I inquired, “And your home? Is it as imposing as Hadrian’s?”
He smiled. “Yes, but in a completely different way. It’s a sprawling estate that sits at the top of a hill. At night, the sky is so clear you can ride a horse by the light of the moon.”
I could picture it clearly in my mind’s eye. A chill went up my spine.
With bold familiarity, he reached over to my plate and plucked a slice of tomato and stuck it in his mouth. Luca radiated the seductive charm and sensual pleasure that could only come from a man of his background. It had been bred into him, and he could no sooner change it than he could the color of his hair. He was one of those men who enjoyed being around women in any capacity. He wasn’t hunting me the way aggressive men had done in the past, even though he didn’t know I was his cousin—and I knew that was his true power. He had the ability to hide his intentions behind a veneer of good humor and indolent indifference, but I knew what was beneath his facade.
“How old are you?” I asked him.
“Twenty-eight.”
; “Your father doesn’t look old enough to have a twenty-eight-year old son.”
“He married young,” he said with a shrug.
“Do you have siblings? Aside from Tor?”
“A younger sister. You’re an inquisitive woman…”
“Just trying to make polite conversation.”
“In that case, it’s my turn to ask you some questions.”
“You’ve already asked me some questions,” I pointed out.
“Humor me.”
He took another slice of tomato, and I smacked his hand before I could stop myself. “Get your own.”
“But it’s so much better from your plate.” He winked. “Hadrian mentioned you speak Italian.”
“That’s not a question.”
“Luca,” Angelo called to his son. “Join us.”
“Ah, just when I was getting somewhere, my father summons me,” Luca lamented with a mocking bow, which instantly made me grin.
I breathed the scent of the ocean in deep, holding it in my lungs before releasing it to steady my nerves. For one brief moment, I’d forgotten that Luca was a Moretti. His urbane charm had lulled me into an easy banter. I hated that I’d forgotten, and I hated that I wanted to know more about him and his family.
My family.
I was just about to cut another bite of burrata when Hadrian called my name.
It was an edict. A dictum.
I held in a frustrated sigh and went to him. There was no empty seat next to Hadrian, and just when I thought I would have to stand behind his shoulder, as Nico stood behind Angelo’s and Tor behind Luca’s, Hadrian reached his arm around my waist and pulled me onto his lap.
I kept my face devoid of expression even though annoyance surged within. Hadrian was publicly staking his claim, and in that moment, I was a Rex girl once again.
Angelo stared at me for long enough to make me uncomfortable, but when he finally spoke, he addressed Hadrian. “She reminds me of Barrett Campbell.”
It was subtle, the tension of Hadrian’s thigh underneath me. “She’s nothing like Flynn’s wife,” Hadrian said, his hand stroking my back.
“It was a compliment,” Angelo stated. “Barrett is in a class above the rest.”