He matches my glare, our bright green eyes clashing.
“I will die if you don’t.”
Right. This all suddenly becomes very simple.
It’s almost alarming how quickly my body relaxes, how I slip my hand back into my father's and follow him to whatever awaits me behind those doors.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers before pushing them open.
The room is smaller than I expected, beautifully decorated and cast in flatteringly warm lighting courtesy of a small chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Chairs flank each side of the room, facing forward toward the far wall where…five sets of eyes turn to face us.
Three I recognize immediately, having known them for my whole life. There’s another person I don’t know at all, but I can guess from his dog collar why he’s here.
And then there’s the other person.
Yeah. I recognize him, too.
Tall and broad, looming in the center of the room with an expression of carefully crafted composure. His dirty blonde hair is pulled away from his face. It accentuates the tightness of his jaw—the only giveaway that he’d rather be anywhere else.
Had he loomed like this the last time I saw him? Had he gazed at me with those piercing brown eyes? He certainly hadn’t been wearing a suit that time, not one that hugged every curve of his muscles so tightly he might rip the seams if he flexed his muscles.
All I remember was that he was going to attack Teo. I’d acted on instinct, taking him down, the same way I’d done with that drunk bastard at the VIP table.
Now, he was standing before me—my final destination, apparently.
The don of the Prince’s Guild, Leon Natali.
This isn’t a dinner. It’s not even an intervention.
It’s a wedding.
2
LEON
Of course, it would be her.
Her.
Of course.
Because when has anything in my life gone entirely to plan?
“You’re marrying me off tohim?” Mia hisses to her father, but she makes no effort to prevent the rest of us from hearing.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Teo flinch. The Guild’s don has never seemed particularly thrilled by the arrangement either, but he’s somehow convinced Marco of its merits.
Enough for Marco to bring his daughter here personally—a feat I’m sure is impressive, but one I decidedly don’t care enough to ask about. I’m only here for one thing. Everything else is Teo’s mess to sort out.
But it’s Cassandra Moretti who speaks up first. “Mia, please.”
The redhead turns on the woman in anger. “Youknewabout this?”
“I tried to warn you! You never picked up the phone.”
“You could have come toCandelabraat any point.”
“She couldn’t.” Teo throws Cassandra a tired look. “She shouldn’t have tried to contact you at all.”
