Page 88 of Sinful Bride

We stay like that for a moment, both of us breathing hard, our bodies still joined. Then, slowly, I lower her back to her feet and help her straighten her dress while I deal with the condom.

“Declan—” She looks at me, wide-eyed, and I kiss her again.

“I needed you,” I say softly. “I had to be inside you.”

Her cheeks flush, and she looks away. I pull her close, kissing her forehead. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." She looks up at me. "Was that really just because you can't keep your hands off me? Or was it something else?"

"Something else." I take a breath. "You were right about Dante Moretti."

Her expression sobers. "What happened?"

I tell her about the interrogation and Dante's confession, and about watching Enzo execute Dante in that small building on the edge of the property. When I'm done, she's quiet for a long moment. "He said my father ordered him to spy on you?"

"Yes. But your father denied it. Said Dante was lying to save himself."

"And you believe him?"

"I don't know." I run a hand through my hair. "I want to. But something about it feels wrong. The way Dante insisted, the way your father killed him so quickly⁠—"

"My father is a complicated man," Elena says slowly. "He's conniving and manipulative, and he always has multiple plans running at once. But—" She pauses. "I don't think he would betray you. Not like this. Not after giving me to you."

"Why not?"

"Because in our world, that kind of betrayal would make him look like he can't control his own family, can't honor his own agreements." She touches my face. "If my father wanted you dead, he would have found a way to do it before the wedding. Not after."

The words settle something in my chest. Not completely. I'm still wary, but it’s enough. Enough to believe that maybe Enzo is telling the truth and Dante really was acting on his own.

"Thank you," I say.

She frowns. "For what?"

"For helping me see clearly. For being on my side." I kiss her gently. "For being my partner."

She smiles. "We should get back to dinner before they come looking for us."

We straighten our clothes and check each other for evidence of what we just did. Then, hand in hand, we walk back to the dining room.

18

ELENA

We slip back into the dining room separately, far enough apart that hopefully no one will guess what just happened. I can still feel my arousal on the insides of my thighs, and it feels oddly exciting, like a dirty secret only Declan and I know about. My father glances up from his wine, his expression unreadable, and I feel heat creep up my neck.

"Everything all right?" Alessio asks.

"Fine," I say, sliding back into my seat. "Just needed some air for a moment."

Declan sits down too, and the conversation resumes with business talk. I participate when expected—which isn’t often—and smile when appropriate, but my mind keeps drifting back to the hallway and Declan's hands on my body. His promise that we'd wait for children until I was ready.

No one has ever given me that kind of choice before.

Dessert arrives, tiramisu and espresso, and I'm reaching for my fork when my father's voice cuts through the ambient conversation. "Elena." He dabs his mouth with his napkin, setting it aside. "Come speak with me in my office for a moment."

I freeze. It's not an unusual request; my father has often pulled me aside to discuss household matters or upcoming events. But something about his tone makes my stomach clench. "Now?" I ask.

"If you don't mind." He stands, buttoning his suit jacket. "It won't take long."