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“Luca chose my dress.”
His fingers trailed down my bare arm, making me shiver. “But you painted your body with glitter.” He took another look at me and licked his lips. “You have fingerprints on your chest and neck.”
I looked down at my cleavage spilling out of the dress, and my eyes widened. “Oh, my God.”
“I’m guessing the fingerprints are from Luca.”
“Good guess.”
“It’s okay, Little Wellington,” he said with a sexy smirk. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“So,” I muttered, my arm brushing his soft suit jacket as I attempted to change the conversation. “Where’s your wife or girlfriend?”
Sonny sipped from the highball glass in his hand, scanning the crowded room. “Unattached.”
“Afraid of commitment?”
His eyes found mine. “Haven’t met the right woman.”
“Your parents don’t meddle in your love life?”
“We’re Irish,” he said as if that explained everything.
Bastian and Damian Salvatore entered the room from the private entrance. They both had hair like a raven’s feathers and lean muscular bodies hidden beneath their expensive designer suits. I hadn’t seen them since before Aiden’s disappearance, and time had served them well.
They made a beeline toward Luca, whose stony demeanor shifted when he saw them. Flanked by Bastian and Damian, Luca looked like a king, leaning against the wall as if his shoulders were holding up the damn thing. Everyone wore a mask, except for Luca and his brothers.
The Salvatore men were so delicious my heart raced as I examined each of them. Bastian’s hair was messy as if he’d rolled out of bed and somehow still looked hot. He scrolled through his cell phone with a smug expression on his gorgeous face. What was with all of them? None of them ever smiled. Smirked, yes, but never anything that resembled a genuine smile.
Damian’s shirt was untucked, a few buttons open, revealing the dark tattoos on his chest. He had a red lipstick stain on his collar, and his gold silk tie hung around his neck.
I glanced up at Sonny. “Damian and Bastian never spoke much around me. They always kept to themselves. What’s their deal?”
“Damian’s a fucking psychopath,” he announced, his glass raised to his lips. “He’s into some sick and twisted shit.”
He might as well have said Damian likes to golf nine holes on Sundays. That was how the confession sounded from Sonny’s mouth. Unlike most people in Devil’s Creek, Sonny made you feel at ease.
“Are we talking Dexter level psycho?”
He bobbed his head, his eyes on the crowded dance floor. “In a matter of speaking, yeah.”
A chill rolled down my bare shoulders. Sonny’s declaration should have creeped me out, but it was no surprise with Arlo as their father.
“Word of advice,” Sonny said with a hint of warning to his tone. “Never put yourself in a position where you’re alone with Damian. He has a thing for blood.”
“Good to know.”
Luca’s brothers gravitated around him like he was the center of their universe. Even Marcello followed his older brother’s orders.
I nudged Sonny in the side with my elbow, and he looked down at me. “What about Bastian? Does he have any scary kinks I need to know about, seeing as I’m living under the same roof as these weirdos?”
“Bash is a sadist. He’s into bondage. I taught him a thing or two about tying proper knots.”
A haunting smile tugged at his mouth, giving me serial killer vibes. He seemed delighted by the idea of binding someone. These men… and the weird shit they liked.
“Can’t be any worse than what Luca has done to me,” I offered since we were spilling our secrets.
Sonny laughed. “We’re all sick fucks.”
Taking in the scenery, he moved from one woman to another as if he were hunting his next victim. Despite his killer looks and charm, Sonny was like his friends. The Founders' children threw their wealth and power around like they ruled the world—because one day they would.
“Want to know a secret?” I asked him.
Sonny dipped his head down. “Of course.”
“Your bestie drugged me on my second night in the house.”
“Hmm…” Sonny scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “Marcello told me. Don’t hold it against him. He’s loyal and will do anything for his family.”
“Yeah, I got that. He does whatever Luca tells him.”
“Marcello likes order,” he said with a sigh. “After growing up in this house, he’s not used to freedom. He needs things to be a certain way.”
“Seems we have that in common,” I commented, wondering if Marcello was as innocent as Sonny claimed.
I didn’t know Marcello well. Even after ten years, I had so much to learn about the Salvatores and this world. I would always be an outsider—the Midwest girl with a secret family legacy that forced her to marry a cruel prince.
“Luca thrives in chaos,” he said.
“How do you figure? Luca is always in control. I’ve never seen him lose it.”
“He hasn’t been the same since you went back to Haven.”
