by Emma Slate
Angelo didn’t reply right away. Finally, he said, “All right. This child, and any other you bear, will be in control of their own lives.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t. But I won’t cross your future husband again. Even now, he could be planning retaliation. I don’t want any Moretti blood spilled over a vendetta. It’s too precious to waste.”
We fell into a pensive silence. I sipped my hot chocolate, wondering when I could escape the tragedy that was this room.
Angelo’s eyes softened when he looked into the fire again. “Will you tell me? Where she’s buried?”
I swallowed. “Why?”
“So I can bring her home. Where she belongs.”
“She took her own life,” I reminded him. “Doesn’t that violate the sanctity of The Church?”
“I think God will forgive her for protecting her child.” He paused. “Besides, it’s the family crypt and we have different rules than The Church.”
I told him the name of the town where she’d been laid to rest.
“Thank you,” he said, voice grave.
“You’re welcome.”
We would never be close—my uncle and I—there was too much between us. But there, in that moment, we both silently drank to the life of a woman we’d both loved and failed to protect.
In that moment, we were family.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
I woke up in the middle of the night, wondering what had caused me to stir. I reached for Hadrian, surprised that he was gone. How had he managed to get himself out of bed without me knowing?
I looked to the balcony doors. They were open, and moonlight streamed into the room, but I couldn’t see him out there. I was just about to get up when the bedroom door opened.
Letting out a squeak in surprise, I hastily pulled the sheet up to my chin. But it was only Gisella and Beatrice.
Beatrice hit the light switch and the room brightened.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked Beatrice. “It’s the middle of the night!”
My glare transferred from my aunt to my cousin, both of whom were in formal wear. “What time is it? Why are you dressed like that?”
Gisella and Beatrice exchanged a smile.
“Where’s Hadrian?”
“It’s just past midnight,” Gisella said. “Do you want to wear a sheet to the party, or would you rather wear a dress?”
“Party? At this hour?” I asked.
“Family only,” Beatrice said. “Come on, everyone else is already dressed and waiting.”
My sluggish mind refused to comprehend what was going on, but I let them pull the sheet away from my body. I didn’t bother with modesty as I slid into undergarments and then the dress Beatrice had pulled out of the armoire.
It was a red, strapless confection and hit just above the knee. I thought about pulling my hair up but Gisella shook her head. “Leave it down.”
Beatrice brushed it until my locks were glossy.
When I slid into the matching red pumps, I looked to them for inspection. “I don’t have any jewelry,” I said.
“You don’t need any,” Beatrice said with a smile.
I followed them out of the room, my curiosity growing as we headed not to the salon, but to the back door that led to the vineyard.
My breath caught when I saw Hadrian under the moonlight, dressed in a tuxedo. He was using a cane to stand upright, but his smile was boyish and devoid of pain as he looked at me. Hadrian stood on a wooden pavilion graced with fairy twinkle lights and long tapered candles.
My cousins and uncles were with him, and I couldn’t stop the sense of pride I felt when I saw him towering over them all.
Beatrice went to join her husband and Gisella clasped her hand with mine and together we walked toward my groom.
As I strolled down the aisle, my gaze drifted over Nico and his sons.
When I arrived at the altar, we halted. Gisella embraced me and whispered in my ear, “Be happy, cousin.”
Tears glistened in my eyes when I nodded at her, a smile pulling across my cheeks.
Hadrian took my hand. “Surprise.”
And there, under the full moon, on the hills of my ancestral home, I married Hadrian Rhys.
The family dined outdoors underneath the canopy of stars. Hadrian’s smile was bright and easy when he leaned toward me and brushed his lips across mine.
“Why didn’t you let me in on the secret of our midnight wedding?” I asked, breathless.
“I had this planned long before I knew about your family,” he said softly. “Only I wanted to marry you on the beach of my island. And for the record, I never planned on asking you to marry me.”
I arched a brow. “No?”
“No.” He grinned, shattering the solemnity of the moment. “I always planned on telling you that you were going to marry me.”
Letting out a chuckle, I looked down at the ring. Hadrian had slid a cushion cut amethyst flanked by diamonds and set in yellow gold onto my finger.
“Before all of this,” I said, waving to the hills and my family dining and conversing at a table not far away, “when were you planning on telling me to marry you?”
“As soon as The White Company left,” he said. “They sort of…spoiled my plans.”
“That soon?” I asked breathlessly.
“I didn’t want to wait.” His gaze softened. “As soon as you told me the truth about who you were, I knew I wanted you. Forever.”
We shared a tender look.
“My best friend missed my wedding,” I groaned. “She’s going to kill me.”
“She can get in line,” Hadrian said with a chuckle. “Ingrid is not going to be happy either. We’ll make it up to them. Though Ingrid’s idea of a wedding is a wee bit different than you might expect…”
“Different how?”
“Let’s just say it’s less wedding and more Viking fertility ritual.”
“Wow, okay…but I’m already pregnant,” I pointed out.
“We could still have the celebration. It involves bonfires, a psychotropic drink, and animal pelts. Though I think you should forgo the psychotropic drink.”
“Sign. Me. Up.”
Hadrian’s crack of laughter echoed into the night. “Tiffany should come to the island. I’d like to meet your friend.”
“She’d like to meet you, too.”
His expression sobered. “Everything that I have is yours.”
I couldn’t stop the hammering of my heart as his words penetrated. “Some people would call you foolish for saying that.”
“Some would,” he agreed. “But I knew from the beginning it was never about the money for you. I was never going to let you leave me. I’ll fight for you every day if I have to. I’ll protect you. I’ll love you. I’ll make you happy, Sterling.”
“My mother was wrong,” I said quietly.
“Oh? What about?”
“She told me all I had to do was survive. But that wasn’t enough, Hadrian. I had to fall in love—I had to have a reason for living.”
With stars in my eyes and a dreamy smile on my lips, I leaned over to kiss my husband, the love of my life, the man who had fought for me, and who would fight for me always.
No woman could wish for anything more.
Epilogue
Three months later
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I stood on the balcony that overlooked the ocean. Winter air cooled my heated cheeks but did nothing to douse the flame of desire that burned brighter now than ever before.
The sound of tumultuous waves hit my ears, making me smile.
I heard his soft footsteps, slow, labored. Hadrian was still healing.
His arms enveloped me from behind, tucking me into his protective embrace as his flaming red beard rubbed my cheek. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice husky with sleep and passion.
“Aside from freezing?” I turned my face toward his for a kiss. When we pulled away, my head felt lig
ht, and I was fizzy with happiness.
I leaned back against his chest, letting the poignancy of the moment wash over me. His hands slipped down my body to gently rest on the swell of my belly.
“Are you happy?” he asked.
“Delirious,” I admitted. “You?”
He paused long enough for me to look up at him and arch a brow. Hadrian grinned down at me and placed a kiss at the tip of my nose. “I’m not a poet, aye? Give me a minute to find the words.”
I inclined my head but refused to turn my gaze away from him. His nose had healed, but it was slightly more crooked than before. His body had new scars, but he had survived.
Hadrian Rhys.
Warrior. Lover. Husband.
And soon to be father.
“There’s no amount of wealth that can ever buy what we have,” he said. “Money. Power. None of it matters. Not without you.”
He let me go, but only so he could swivel me to face him. “I had a house, but you made it a home. I had a life, but I wasn’t really alive.”
His hands stole down my body to rest again on my stomach.
The symbol of our love.
“The world is made up of peasants and kings,” he said.
“And you’re an emperor?” I asked with a winsome smile.
“No. Just a man,” he said, his voice raw, aching. “Just a man who was lucky enough to find heaven on earth.”
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Have you met Barrett and Flynn yet? Read the series the started it all, The SINS Series. Keep scrolling for blurb and teaser!
Sins of a King Blurb
Flynn Campbell is a king among men.
* * *
He plays Manhattan's elite like pawns on a chessboard.
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He's a man you don't cross, but that's exactly what my brother has done.
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Debts must be repaid.
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But it's not money Flynn wants...
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It's me.
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Suddenly I'm thrust into a criminal underworld, full of seduction and lies.
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Ensnared by danger and power, foreign desires burn within me.
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It's time to embrace the darkness...
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And become a queen.
Sins of King Teaser
Flynn sat in the chair next to the couch that faced me. Leaning forward, he stared into his drink. Finally, he lifted his blue eyes to me.
“Your brother has gotten himself into some trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Three-hundred thousand dollars worth of trouble.”
I inhaled sharply. That was a lot. “He owes you money?” I guessed.
“Aye.”
“How? Were you in business together?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t understand. How can he owe you that kind of money?”
“It’s not important.”
“It’s not? It’s not like you guys had a friendly bet on a football game. This is serious money.”
He sighed. “Finish your drink.”
“But I don’t want—”
“Finish it,” he commanded, his voice low.
I did as bid, setting the empty glass down on the table. We’d never gotten around to dinner, and a warm ball of liquor resided deep in my belly.
“Your brother made me an offer,” Flynn said. “Your services in lieu of the debt.”
I blinked. “Sorry. The scotch must be doing something to my brain. Services?”
His jaw clenched and he nodded.
“What kind of services?” I demanded, suddenly understanding what I’d overheard at the restaurant. “You’re not interested in my history knowledge, are you?”
I stood up and began to pace across the living room floor. I whirled on Flynn, who had stood too, but was watching me with an indiscernible look on his face.
“You agreed,” I said in realization. “At the restaurant. Andrew asked if you guys had a deal.” My eyes narrowed. “What kind of man agrees to that sort of thing?”
In two quick strides, Flynn was in front of me, looming and fierce. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“So what is this? I work off my brother’s debt in the bedroom? Is that what you were hoping? Keep me chained and bound and—”
Flynn gripped my upper arms, dragging me close to him so we were nearly nose-to-nose despite the fact that he was several inches taller than me. “If I wanted a woman, I wouldn’t have to pay for it.”
“Then what could you possibly want me for?” I asked, still in shock.
Flynn released me, setting me back down on the floor. I nearly stumbled in my heels, but I caught myself.
He gestured to the couch. “Sit down. And I’ll explain.”
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Click Here & Binge The SINS Series now!
Additional Works
Writing as Emma Slate
SINS Series:
Sins of a King (Book 1)
Birth of a Queen (Book 2)
Rise of a Dynasty (Book 3)
Dawn of an Empire (Book 4)
Ember (Book 5)
Burn (Book 6)
Ashes (Book 7)
The Spider Queen
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Wreck & Ruin: Blue Angels MC #1
Writing as Samantha Garman
The Sibby Series:
Queen of Klutz (Book 1)
Sibby Slicker (Book 2)
Mother Shucker (Book 3)
Sibby’s Spawn (Book 4)
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From Stardust to Stardust
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About the Author
Emma Slate writes on the run. The dangerous alpha men she writes about aren’t thrilled that she’s sharing their stories for your enjoyment. So far, she’s been able to evade them by jet setting around the world. She wears only black leather because it’s bad ass…and hides blood.
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