I pull my knees up to my chest, trying to keep my voice steady. “That sounds great.”
“So you can come the moment you finish studying.”
A heavy sigh escapes me. One last try. “Why don’t we get on a plane tonight and fly to Europe?”
The pause on the other end of the line makes my stomach clench. Everything stops as I wait for her answer.
“You need your education, sweetheart. I don’t want that being ruined. We can travel as soon as you’re finished.”
“Okay.” The word comes out flat, defeated.
“I’ll see you one day next week. I’ll take you for lunch.”
“I’m back at uni next week.”
“Wow. That break flew by.”
“Yeah.”
I refresh the Pampered Princess page again. Still no response from HisPrincess. The clock in the corner shows nine am London time. My stomach churns. He’ll be awake and at work by now.
“Speak to you soon. I’m going to call Milly to tell her the good news.” Mom disconnects and I immediately switch tabs to check SweetJustice’s profile again. There must be something I missed, some clue to who’s behind this nightmare.
A notification pops up. My hands shake as I click to open it.
HisPrincess: I’ll be there.
A smile spreads across my face. Finally, a way out if I need it.
Now I can do what I need to do.
15
Dom
I drag my tiredbody through the front door, my mind still reeling from the clusterfuck at Antonio’s. The meeting started about Con and then about my son, Dante’s wife’s pregnancy, and then the night turned into a shit show when Lia broke into his house with a gun. She had all the intentions of killing Antonio and it turns out I was on her list for tonight too.
My chest tightens remembering how Antonio’s face had hardened as he knocked the gun from her hand. “It’s time you knew the truth.”
The revelations of the night brought everything back. How I was secretly in love with Aurora Morelli when we still lived in Italy.
Not that I ever told Antonio how I wanted her for myself. She was betrothed to his brother, and I was married. I had my twin boys, Dante and Rafe by then.
I could never betray my calling.
I couldn’t betray the Syndicate or my father.
A soft voice drifts down from upstairs—Amara’s. So like her sister’s was when she asked questions before she learned her fate.
My hands shake.
“Fuck,” I mutter, running a hand over my face.
She’s got the same way of looking right through people, seeing what others miss. Just like her sister did.
Just like her mother.
But Amara’s only eighteen years old. Too young, too pure for someone like me. A man with blood-stained hands.
