“Don’t worry, Evelina,” Rina interrupts smoothly, her tone perfectly gracious. I don’t miss that she’s confident enough to address my mother by her given name. “I wouldn’t dream of keeping Dante from his work. We’ll catch up soon, won’t we?”
“Of course,” I reply. “Some other time.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” she purrs right back, offering me a subtle wink as she turns to my mother to kiss her hand. Seeminglyunperturbed by the rejection but holding enough dignity not to overstay her welcome.
As she walks away, I can feel my mother’s gaze burning into the side of my face, but right now, she’s not my priority.
“My duty is, first and foremost, to the Prince’s Guild in Brooklyn,” I say once Rina has disappeared through the front doors. “I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to interfere with my business until it has concluded.”
“You promised me,” Evelina hisses right back.
“And I have done everything you’ve asked,” I snap as I turn to look at her. “I do not appreciate unwanted house guests being sprung on me when I’m already balancing my duties back home and whatever busywork falls on your desk for the Ferro.”
“If you ever dream of becoming the Grasso di Ferro’s don?—”
“You are mistaken,” I interrupt with a severity I didn’t realize I truly felt. “I never dreamed of this.”
For a moment, my heart clenches at the sight of my mother’s sorrow. Evident, as it always has been, in her downturned her lips and the furrow of her brow. The familiarity of the look on her face does little to ease my fraying conscience.
Still, I force myself to turn my back on her.
The corridor grows cooler as I descend toward the castle’s basement, the polished grandeur of the upper floors giving way to stone walls and dim light, a walk I must have done at least two dozen times by now.
The unrestrained desire I felt before has evolved into something more honed, more purposeful, carved by misplaced angertoward Rina and my mother. Toward Rocco and Leon. Toward Carmen herself and this entire situation.
I’m not a man who has ever denied himself anything.
As I take the cell door keys from the lock box, I take comfort in the fact that this, at least, hasn’t changed.
When I enter the hallway to the cells, it’s around the usual time for my evening visits.
Last week, I might have broken the silence with a rant about my unwanted house guest or a question I’d been mulling over all day about Carmen’s apparent equestrian skill set.
Today, I approach the bars, keys dangling between my fingers, and wait for her to acknowledge me.
Her steps are quiet as she approaches. Her slim arms are held across her chest as her eyes narrow on the object in my hand. She examines it closely as if trying to determine its authenticity.
Finally, she pulls away.
“What is this?”
I loop the keys carelessly around my finger. “It would be easier if I came in and showed you.”
10
CARMEN
My heart is practically beating through my ribs.
Not once when I propositioned Dante this morning did I ever think he was going to take me up on it.
Now he’s standing here, calling my bluff.
As if my body isn’t already screaming at me to accept his offer, to let him do whatever he wants to me. Even if he wasn’t holding the key to my freedom in both his metaphorical and physical hands.
“What’s the problem, princess?” Dante smirks at my clear distress. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”
I swallow hard. “I didn’t really think you’d be interested. Are your mother’s bachelorettes not entertaining enough for you?”
