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Frankie looked down, chocolate hair shadowing her face. She didn’t try to cover herself and in that moment, Anteros nearly bent down to pick her back up. She looked so demure, enthralling. Then the next few words she spoke reminded him exactly why he didn’t. Her voice was quiet, determined.
“I…” She swallowed. “I don’t need any confirmation. I know you’re the monster.” Her eyes flashed to his, hatred burning bright. She had a reddish blush on her face, one he’d put there. The strawberry tint crept down past her cheeks, onto her chest, and he knew it crept farther down. She looked spent. He’d marked her in some way. Even if her mind wouldn’t let him, her body would do it for her.
“If you’re so sure, Frankie,” Anteros replied. “Then I won’t bother trying to persuade you. After today, you can be sure of that.”
Anteros could still taste her on his tongue, like salt and something else. Something delicious, nearly indescribable. Something that melted like ice cream but was thick and sweet like chocolate. Something entirely Frankie. It made him want to skip meals, skip drinks, to keep that taste on his tongue a little while longer.
It made him want to taste her everywhere. His thoughts drifted to what she tasted like between her legs…
“Mr. Drago?” Rhys asked, drawing his attention back to the present. “The media has been given the story and the senator is expected to resign in a few days.” Anter
os nodded, barely paying attention. He’d left her on the library floor, heading straight to his home office where Rhys and Emilio were waiting, but all he could think about was Frankie. That exorcism had failed completely; if anything, he’d just opened the door for more demons.
“What have you each heard about the Pavoni Princess?” he asked, completely changing topic.
“What?” Rhys asked, confusion spanning his face in wrinkles. “What is the Pavoni Princess?”
“What have you heard?” Anteros probed, eyes wandering to Emilio.
“Have you been hanging around the soldiers?” Emilio laughed. Upon seeing Anteros’s face, he sobered. “It’s a myth. The story goes that somewhere there’s a princess continuing the Pavoni line. It’s a bedtime story they told themselves after the Blood War to feel better about the fact that nearly all the Pavonis died.”
Glowering, Anteros stood up and walked around his desk, tapping the wood in rhythm. Nothing Emilio had said was news to him, but Dario’s version had sparked something. He’d never heard a version that involved a fifth sister and a child. It was intriguing. It was…
It was all nonsense.
All lies.
Anteros clenched his fist, releasing a sigh. “Never mind.” Still his mind was foggy. It was a unique feeling—a fucking annoying feeling. His mind had never been foggy before. He knew exactly what was causing it, too.
Almost as if on cue, Rhys spoke. “Since you still haven’t done anything with the slave, does that mean you want to pursue Africa?”
Anteros slid into his chair and faced the window. It was so dark outside the sky appeared inky. Minutes passed in silence as thoughts dissolved into raw feeling inside him. The idea of giving Frankie up was repulsive. Returning Frankie to Notte had felt like he was tearing a part of himself away, but he’d tried because it was necessary.
Giving her to some asshole in Africa?
Not a chance.
“The slave is off the table,” Anteros replied. A few more hours passed while they finished up discussing business. Rhys didn’t bring up Africa again but Anteros never stopped thinking about it. Frankie brought him nothing but trouble. Anteros was known for his single-minded focus on business, for his ruthlessness and cunning. With her, he had none of those. Why was he keeping her around? Giving her up was the right call, whether she went to Africa or the street.
Even knowing that, he couldn’t do it.
When Emilio and Rhys left, it was nearing the middle of the night. Still, Anteros pressed the call button for Nikolai. Minutes later, his curls appeared, bent deferentially in the doorway.
“Boss?” Nikolai asked.
“I have a special task for you,” Anteros said. “There are rumors about a Pavoni Princess. I need you to find out if there is any merit to them. I suggest you start with Antonio Notte. He had some ideas on the matter.”
“Yes, Boss.” Nikolai nodded then shut the door. When it clicked, Anteros stared at the thick wood, mind still on the slave sleeping in his bed downstairs.
Nine
Out on the patio overlooking the Hudson River, I had a friend. Gabby and I sat drinking hot chocolate, laughing, and for a moment, my life felt normal. For a moment, I could forget the way I’d met her. Her name was really Gabriella, but she told me to call her Gabby. She was the girl with brilliant blonde hair and warm brown eyes who’d shown me kindness the night Arlo had tried to rape me, the girl with bruises to rival my own.
That night she’d told me she’d never had any girlfriends before—never had any friends at all. Sound familiar? Then she’d trailed off, chocolate eyes betraying the first sense of disharmony since showing up like my own fairy godmother. She’d smiled, turned to me, and said, “But now I do. We’re friends, right?”
She looked so young then, eyes big and wide as if looking to me for saving. I could practically see the fourteen-year-old child bride still trapped in her body. I regarded her now, as she poured her mug of cocoa. Her hands trembled slightly though the rest of her was calm, and I knew the tremble wasn’t from the cold.
After what had happened with the Beast in the library, I had a feeling I was in desperate need of friends now more than ever. The icy cold way he’d spoken to me after I’d called him a monster was tattooed in my brain. If you’re so sure, Frankie, then I won’t bother trying to persuade you. After today, you can be sure of that.
