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Good. She understands now. I get us in a shadowed part of the dance floor, out of the spotlight shining directly in the center. We move along to the music, but my eyes stay focused on the group of men. When one of the higher ups in our world approaches, they clear a path and give me a straight-shot view of the man they are guarding.
Ferro.
That adrenaline pumping through my blood begins to rise.
The need to kill him, to take him and make him pay for what I almost did to my sweet Arabella, is prevalent. It’s consuming. Almost overwhelming. Remembering where I last spotted Marcello, I look his way, and that’s when I find him staring at me. He gives me a knowing nod, and that’s my cue. He laughs loudly as I slip away from Rosalie. She protests with the click of her tongue and an annoyed sound that I pay no mind to. This loud, boisterous laugh catches the eye of Ferro, keeping him focused on Arabella’s father.
You can see it in his eyes—the recognition.
As this distracts him, it gives me a chance to move closer. We don’t dare cause a scene here at the event, much less one where Ferro’s family is present; it would be a bloodbath—a declaration of war. Reaching into my pocket, I find the capped syringe. I stealthily move through the dancing couples and the small groups of people talking, merely feet away now. All the guards are looking to where Ferro is, and I see my in. Just to the left of Ferro is an unguarded space and a straight shot to the exit door that leads to the alley.
Ferro says something to one guard then, and I see it the moment it registers. The guard catches sight of me in the crowd and moves.
“Sir, it’s DeLuca,” I hear him tell Ferro, close behind me. I have no idea how he can tell, since I’m wearing a mask, but I don’t have time to question it. I move faster, knowing the henchman is going to make a run for it, to try to tackle me. So I bolt toward Ferro in a last-ditch effort to at least pummel the fucker out of sheer desperation to exact some kind of punishment on him, but by then it’s too late. All guards focus their attention on me. And just like that, two men take Ferro by the arms and rush him out as the other men make their move toward me.
“Hey!” one hollers, and I spin to look at Marcello, who is already in motion, coming to me.
“Gentleman! Hey now, this is a ball. Why are we making such a ruckus?” Marcello announces, and this stops the three men, getting their attention just long enough for me to take an alternate route to the emergency exit.
I barely make it out then, rushing toward the street, where I see Ferro climbing into a black SUV and fleeing.
“Fuck! God dammit!” I curse into the darkness, tugging at my hair. I lost him, and now he knows we’re after him. Hell, he already had suspicions, but now he knows for sure, and this will force him into even deeper hiding. That means another night, another day, and more time will go on that Arabella is not safe enough.
I pull out my phone and dial Marcello.
He answers and barks, “I’m on my way out.”
I end the call and look around the alley and street, trying to think of what to do next. It’s time for a plan fucking B.
20
Arabella
He left me, and I feel… incomplete.
I miss him. Yet just a few days ago, I loathed him. Wanted him to fuck me, yes, but then to let me go and move on. Now, my captor has stolen it all. My heart. My trust. My loyalty. I now crave his presence at all times, when before I met him, I was content on my own.
There’s no denying that, even though I’m falling for him, how we came to be is still a brutal reality. My husband hired him to kill me. And for what? Another woman.
Why didn’t he just end us? Why would he resort to such extremes?
But I know the answer to those questions already.
The treaty.
Our marriage was a deal to end the war between our two families. If we divorced, he would have lost his title, and our families would have been enemies again.
Why was I never enough? Why didn’t Ferro try to make our marriage truly work? Was I not pretty enough? Not smart enough? Not a good little housewife? Did that even matter? And would I have ever been able to love him if he’d been good to me?
I know the truth to that question as well.
No.
I wouldn’t have.
I know that, because I have now tasted love and desire, and there is no world where I could feel that with anyone other than DeLuca. He’s quickly becoming my everything. I’m obsessed. I’m also highly aware of my craziness and what I would do to make him keep me. How did I ever become a woman who wanted to be kept? Two weeks have passed that I’ve been his, and it feels like I’ve always been. Born and branded to belong to the monster who is also a dark knight.
