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The wind whipped through my hair, blowing long strands in front of my eyes. I pushed it behind my ears, and my stomach churned as I glanced down at the steep drop. Of course, the Salvatores made it impossible to escape with all of their security. Luca’s grandfather had built the house during the Prohibition days and made a ton of money bootlegging. Given their current business dealings, I had assumed there were secret passages and other ways out of this prison on the sea. And I needed to find them.
I looked up at Pops. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“Because Luca doesn’t have a choice. We have all found ourselves in a situation that requires this marriage to work to ensure our legacies.”
Wheels rolled across the blacktop, and Pops spun around to look at Marcello and his father.
Arlo closed the distance between us. “Welcome back to Devil’s Creek, Alexandrea.”
He was a powerful man and not someone I wanted to mess with. Arlo had ruined more than a few political campaigns with his precious secrets. The Salvatores collected secrets like they were Pokemon cards. They would dangle your darkest fears over your head like it was a carrot and torment you until they got what they wanted. If I didn’t obey Arlo’s orders, he would use his influence and connections to destroy my family.
I offered my hand to the Devil in Armani, and he raised it to his mouth, giving my skin a light peck. Arlo was handsome for a man in his late fifties, his sons the spitting image of him. I could imagine Arlo breaking a few hearts in his day. His dark hair was short on the top with a hint of gray on the sides. He was tall, the same height as his son, except Marcello was broader in the shoulders and arms.
“Marcello will help you settle into your room,” Arlo said in a calm, deep tone. “If you need anything, ask him.” His gaze shifted to my grandfather. “Carl, it’s late. You should go. We can discuss the union in the morning.”
Pops bent down to hug me and smacked a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, princess. We can talk more over dinner.”
I clung to Pops like a life raft, squeezing him against my chest, breathless by the time I released him. We hugged one last time before he walked into the house with Arlo. Marcello rolled my suitcases.
I fell into a groove beside him as we followed them into the house. “So, I’m your new roommate?”
He nodded.
Entering the house from the back entrance, we moved through the halls decorated in fine art. The paintings were modern and tasteless, the complete opposite of what had donned the walls of their home nine months ago before Luca forced me out of his life.
“Where is your mother’s art?”
“Didn’t take you long to notice,” Marcello groaned.
“That’s not an answer.”
He stopped when we reached a Tuscan-style entryway with a massive crystal chandelier hanging overhead. The ceiling was so high I wondered how the hell they changed the lightbulbs. My grandfather was a billionaire, but I didn’t grow up with this kind of opulence. After my grandfather had cut my mother off, my parents had just enough money to maintain a decent lifestyle.
Marcello rested his shoe on the bottom step of a wide staircase. He glared at me, gripping the iron banister that had an interesting design. “Stop asking questions.”
“Just tell me,” I demanded, a little annoyed with his constant attempts to avoid me. “What happened to her paintings?”
“They’re on loan to a gallery.”
I rolled my eyes at the jerk. “Was that so hard, Lonely Boy?”
“Don’t you dare call me that,” he snapped. I choked back the bile rising from my stomach as Marcello leaned down, his lips inches from mine. “My brother has failed to keep your pretty ass in line, but I’m not someone you will get over on. So don’t even try.”
Adrenaline coursed through my veins, causing my heart to pound like a drum beating inside my chest. “What’s next? Are you going to tattoo Property of the Salvatores on my ass?”
He leveled me with a glare. “Don’t tempt me.”
Marcello lifted my suitcases and ascended the stairs. I listened to the wheels on my luggage roll across the second floor before I followed him. At least a dozen doors spanned the length of the corridor. A row of sconces cast a soft glow on the floor, illuminating the beautiful Brazilian walnut. The thick panels of wainscoting made it feel as if the walls were closing in on me, draining the air from my lungs with each step I took toward my new life.
My eyes widened as I stepped into the room. It was five times the normal size of a bedroom with high ceilings and an ensuite bathroom. A four-poster bed sat at the center of the room, decorated in various shades of gray, white, and black. I walked toward the balcony set between tall windows that overlooked the bay.
