“Believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see.”—Edgar Allan Poe
I’m so nervous I want to puke.
King still hasn’t shown up.
I know this is one of those days where we have a serious talk about what our future looks like and how things are going to work out. It’s going to get complicated, but he did promise me.
He promised nothing would change.
And it was the only promise I needed—that I could still love Roman. Even though I knew we couldn’t get married now, at least I could have him.
He’d been so pissed when I gave him his ring back, and then he’d cried, gotten drunk, yelled, apologized, then asked if there was any way we could run away together.
Instead, I ran toward King.
It was the only way to save my family and the only way to strengthen theirs. Everything was a power play, and we were nothing but pawns in that game.
I asked my uncle a week ago if I had a choice. He seemed so confused by the question itself that I already knew the answer. As he stared at my left hand, my engagement ring burned on my finger. When my dad died, when my other uncle died, I knew in my soul I would take over my family.
Until my last uncle rose up and took the throne.
Now I’m screwed.
Now my life is not my own.
My story is already written.
I never imagined when I said yes to Roman that I would, a week later, be handing back that small diamond ring and telling him that I couldn’t marry the pauper anymore. No, I was marrying the prince himself.
Roman had grown up poor; his dad was still working on becoming a made man. We met by accident, Roman and I. We met when I got in a fight with my boyfriend at the time and ran across my yard and tripped, nearly landing headfirst in one of the gorgeous fountains on my father’s property.
And that was it.
Literally.
We saw each other every day after that.
Until I gave him his ring back.
His dad recently died, and now Roman was a captain for my family, the Buratti Family, working his way up to a made man and more.
I am so damn proud of him in his black suit as he stands next to my uncle, staying close just in case someone tries to carry out another ridiculous assassination attempt.
Lately, it seemed like everyone was trying to kill my family.
My long-lost uncle was powerful in Sicily, but here in the States? Here, people just wanted what he had, which was control over several of the cities in Italy. He had more power than local authorities, and all because he cared about the people. But he got hungry.
So hungry.
Mom died.
Dad changed, then died.
And my uncle? He followed suit.
Until the final heir rose to the occasion—the uncle that never really gave a shit—and took the crown I was owed. After all that work. All that blood. I still ended up being a pawn in a game I never wanted a part of.
My uncle suddenly wanted more than cities.
He wanted it all.
And there I stood, helping him.
Taking a ring off my finger and replacing it with a heavier one, because what freaking choice did I have? Do I have?
Roman looks over at me and nods his head once.
I jerk my chin toward the bathroom.
He blinks slowly.
I don’t need anything but him.
Nearly falling off my heels, I make my way to the bathroom, open the door, and step inside. Then I close the door and wait for his knock.
He knocks twice.
I jerk open the door, grab him, and pull him in, kissing him as he lifts me onto the counter and spreads my legs wide so he can walk between them.
“I missed you,” I say between kisses.
“I’m dying for you. Where’s this King guy anyway?”
“Late.” I kiss him harder. “I know it sounds weird, but you’ll like him. Plus, we came up with a sort of arrangement.”
“Doesn’t matter.” His grip tightens on my ass, fingers digging in. “You’re mine.”
“Yours,” I promise. I swear. I speak it out loud, willing it to be true until my voice is hoarse. King is great.
But Roman is my forever.
My lips are swollen when we finally stop kissing. I have no lipstick on them anymore but don’t care as we sneak out of the bathroom a few minutes later.
Roman goes back to my uncle’s side. I walk to the bar and grab a glass of wine.
The room stills as King enters and slowly makes his way through the crowd, and he honestly does look like a king in his black suit, clear blue eyes, chiseled jaw, and messy hair. Yeah, he looks like a king you don’t want to piss off, but one you so desperately want to get to know.
In another life, he would have been perfect for me.
In another life, I would have been perfect for him.
I shoot a glance toward Roman, and I know the minute he sees King because his entire demeanor stiffens while his skin pales, as though he’s seen a ghost.
King smiles at people as he walks through the crowd and finally stops in front of me, towering over me by at least six inches.
I look up and try not to gasp. He’s almost too striking to be pretty, and yet he’s beautiful in his own terrifying way. He’s like a historical romance novel all in one package, with the way he stands, walks, and stares—like you can’t tell if he’s entranced or pissed off.
“Hey,” I whisper.
He cracks a smile, reaches for my hand, kisses the back of it, then says, “Hey.”
I smile despite my nerves.
And then he says something I never expected in a million years. “Why don’t we go meet the soon-to-be bride’s new bodyguard?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “I just assumed it would be a Campisi, maybe Dom.” I frown. “No…
Dom has better things to do. Axel? I’d probably drive him crazy and make him—”
I quit talking when we stop in front of Roman. King’s calm and collected as he drops my hand, leans in, kisses my cheek, then whispers, “Be happy, Del.”
My mouth drops open.
Roman stiffens, his face blanching to the point it resembles kindergarten paste. “I thought I was guarding some new spoiled princess?”
King laughs and turns to me. “Is this the part where you raise your hand?”
I slap him on his ridiculously tight stomach. “Very funny.”
“Meet your new assignment,” King says to Roman, leveling him with a glare. “She dies, I slit your throat, rip the rest of your head from your body, and feed it to the pigs out back.”
“You guys have pigs?” Del asks.
“Long story.” He sighs. “Long, long story.” He swallows and looks between us. “I’m going to go get a drink.”
I shouldn’t watch him walk away, but I do.
Because he just gave me a rare gift.
My freedom.
But at the cost of him walking into that prison cell, turning the key, and tossing it away.
Be happy?
But what about him?
