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“Good.”
He gave her a kiss, pressed their foreheads together, and walked out to run the front of his empire, leaving her to take care of the back.
The date for the wedding was set three months away in spring, although she’d be in her eighth month of pregnancy by then. Initially, Dante hadn’t wanted to wait that long, but she had reminded him that their wedding wasn’t just their union, it was a statement in the underworld, and it needed to be a strong one. Dante Maroni marrying a housekeeper’s daughter for love – the same girl who had been raped and tortured at fifteen – instead of a virginal beauty of a fellow family for power and connection was a big deal. People had to be invited, charades had to be put up, games of power had to be played.
Dante had agreed, and the next morning, she had connected with Morana and a wedding planner with her mother, getting the ball rolling. Her mother, who now lived in Dante’s old house and had taken to tailoring baby clothes, had been overjoyed.
Amara swiped red lipstick over her mouth.
“You look like a goddess, Mrs. Maroni-to-be,” her husband-to-be said from behind her, sending a thrill down her spine.
She gave him a once over, admiring him in his debonai
r black tux as he covered his suspenders with his jackets, the attire making him appear larger. She matched him, with a glittery sleeveless black Grecian dress, with straps that widened to cover her breasts and bunching under, before falling straight to her feet in layers, effectively hiding her growing belly, two slits on both sides till her thighs giving little peeks of her legs and tall heels as she moved. Hair loose and naturally wavy, she wore a plain gold choker on her neck, and gold bracelets on her wrists, the jewelry both hiding her scars and complimenting her warm-toned skin.
She did look good.
“It’s Dr. Maroni-to-be,” she corrected him, her low voice sounding husky even to her own ears.
“Mmm-hmm,” he locked their gazes in the mirror, his hand holding hers as he slid something on her finger.
Damn, that was smooth.
Amara lifted her left hand, seeing the beautiful ring glint in the light. It was a gorgeous oval emerald, surrounded by a crown of diamonds, set in a beautiful platinum band.
Dante pressed a kiss to her lobe, showering her with affection. “There’s an engraving on the inside that says ‘my queen’, so you always remember, no matter where you are or where I am, you’re the beat to my heart.”
Amara felt her eyes water and blinked rapidly since her mascara was not waterproof. “And your ring?”
He pressed a kiss to the back of her head, his eyes locked with hers, showing her a plain platinum band. “Matches. But I already know I’m your king.”
“And a very modest one too.”
He flashed a grin. “Ready to go?”
She nodded, taking the arm he offered her, grateful for it since wearing heels while pregnant was a different experience altogether.
It was a huge party in the mansion to celebrate Dante’s official takeover of the Tenebrae Outfit. They hadn’t wanted to do an engagement party since this was her official introduction into their world, and anyone who saw her on his arms with that giant ring would draw their meanings.
Over the last few days, Dante and his men had spent their time keeping and interrogating the man they’d caught at the creepy house and the guy the Shadowman had left pinned to the tree. One of them had bitten on a cyanide pill in his mouth and died. They stopped the other and took the capsule in his teeth. After weeks of refusing to crack, he finally confessed to his crimes.
Anyone working for the Syndicate knew they could never speak about it or hell would rain on them, their loved ones, anyone they remotely cared about. That was the reason most workers simply chose to end their lives before talking.
The guy had told them how the house had been a holding point for the kids between transport – a place where they stayed for a few days before handing the kids to the higher-ups in the organization. These were the low-level operators with one contact at mid-level who guided them on where to pick up the kids and where to drop them. That mid-level contact wasn’t a name, just a phone number, and Morana had tracked it down to ping within the city limits.
Things were confusing and messy and made no sense – her abduction, MrX, Shadowman, the kids, Dante’s mother. There were too many questions and no answers.
Walking down the stairs, she and Dante entered the huge hall that was usually used for hosting parties, her grip tightening on Dante’s bicep as all eyes swiveled to them in the room, some friendly, some hostile, most guarded. There was a part of her that still found it surreal, that she would attend a party in the same halls where she’d once served. But that was the past. Straightening her spine, Amara stood tall beside her husband-to-be, proud of the woman she had become and the man he had grown into, and stepped in.
“Dante,” Leo Mancini headed towards them, his eyes slightly shifty. “Can we talk in private for a moment?”
Amara saw Dante open his mouth before someone else from the Outfit demanded his attention, and Leo walked away to another side of the room.
Dante made conversation for a while then walked to the side, towards a man Amara recognized as the right-hand man of Maroni, and started to chat, his manner calm, cool, composed. Dante Maroni, the charmer, was taking the floor, and she doubted anyone could resist him when he got like that. She stayed by his side as he’d asked her to, looking around the room, her eyes coming to a halt on her half-sister Nerea.
Amara watched the older woman, dressed in black pants and sweater, and for the first time, she wondered about her. Nerea had come into the fold immediately after her abduction and Amara had been too distracted with her healing to pay her any mind. She had accepted the friendly hand the other woman had extended to her, and watching her now, she wondered if it had been a friendly hand at all. Over the years though, Nerea had done nothing but been good to Amara, checking in on her, giving her advice if she needed it, or even arranging her fake passport.
She wondered about her father. After he left her and her mother, they had never tried to contact him again, and Amara wondered if she should now. She saw Nerea catch her eye and give her a warm, genuine smile, and felt slightly guilty for feeling suspicious of her.
