Silence falls over the five of us. Frankie tries to stay close to her sister, but I take her arm and keep her in place next to me. All eyes turn in my direction, as if I’m expected to take charge.
Fine. I’ll be the ringmaster of this fucking circus. But I’ve got one question first.
Turning to Frankie, I spear her with a look.
“Is it true?” I ask quietly.
Her eyes glisten with tears, but she manages to hold my gaze as she nods. “I’m sorry.”
Without thinking, I lash out and grab her chin, anger rolling over me. She winces, as if she expects me to act on the monstrous rage inside me.
“Dante,” Charlie says softly. Her tone is a warning.
Tempering myself, I soften my grip. I won’t take my anger out on Frankie. I just have to touch her, to feel the fragility of her in my grip. I need to touch what’smine.A flash of this loser kissing her, ripping her clothes off, fucking her senseless, and putting a ring on her delicate finger plays like a horror movie inside my brain.
“What was your plan, Francesca?” I grind out. “Figured you’d con me, try to bleed me dry until you were found out?” The angry words fly from my mouth so fast I can’t stop them. “Who put you up to this?”
“No one. It was a mistake.” She takes a shuddering breath. “Just let me explain.”
I wonder what she’s more remorseful about: marrying me, or having her dirty little secret exposed? A hundred other questions burst into my head. Why did she go along with this arranged marriage of ours if she already had a husband? She could have easily backed out of the deal her father made—a deal she made no secret about being opposed to—yet she never mentioned the fact that she was unable to legally marry me. Why did she go through with it, then? Why the charade? What was her endgame in hiding her prior marriage?
What the hell was she after?
“You haven’t evenbegunto understand what a mistake you’ve made,” I say.
Armani steps closer, as if he’s afraid I’m going to hurt Frankie. Fuck him. He should know me better than that. I call him off with a cutting side-eye and release Frankie. My brother moves back beside our unwanted guest with his hands clasped in front of him.
“Hey,” Charlie says softly. “Let’s just all take a breath and talk this…whateverthisis…out. Okay?”
I glare. “There will be talking, but it will be in private, between this woman and myself.”
It’s impossible to wrap my head around how this happened. Armani ran background checks on her and the entire Abbott family before the wedding. There shouldn’t have been a single stone unturned—yet somehow, we missed a giant fucking boulder.
Frankie is married to another man. She can’t legally be married to me.
I look over at her alleged husband. He’s calm, collected, as if he’s making a social call instead of wreaking havoc. This man has touched her, taken her to bed, made her laugh…I can’t stand it.
“Francesca.” I use her full name again, watch her cringe. The tension between us is just about to implode when Marco bounces into the tent, a glass of wine in one hand and a huge smile on his face.
He wanders over, oblivious to what’s going on. Hardly surprising. When does he focus on anything other than partying, pussy, and alcohol?
“Finally found you all—didn’t realize we were playing hide-and-seek,” he jokes. The boyish smile immediately drops from his face as he takes in the scene.
“What do you need, Marco?” I blast the words.
He isn’t bothered by my anger. He’s been the brunt of it for so long, it doesn’t even faze him. “I, uh, just came to tell you the band is on their last song of the set. Almost time for the closing speech to our investors and the press.”
“Of course,” I say.Just fucking perfect.
“Do you need a few more minutes here? I can go make an announcement,” Marco says, eyes darting back and forth between me and the others.
I know I have to keep it together—and I’m sure as hell not giving anyone the satisfaction of seeing me flustered or shaken. But the timing is shit. I can’t believe I have to go out there right now and face the whole damned crowd with my “wife” by my side. The backstabbing, lying manipulator I just gave up all other women for. The thought twists my gut.
Even now she’s still staring at me with that guilty expression, her eyes swimming with unshed crocodile tears. How dare she make a mockery of whatshe herselfdemanded from me.
“I’m good,” I tell Marco. “You,” I say to Frankie. “You’re coming with me.”
I can barely look at her. The hubris, the lies of this woman. To think she was already married when she’d looked me in the eye and recited vows she couldn’t legally commit to. Even I wouldn’t sink that low. God, I’d almost…
