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Vittoria
I’m still processing what Amadeo did. Doubling the donation. I guess I didn’t expect something like that from him. I was having a little fun at his expense, but he turned the tables on me, and I’m not sure I like it. I remind myself he’s not human. He’s a monster. Only a monster could do to a dead body what he did to my father’s corpse. Only a monster would kidnap a woman and use her affection for her little sister to bend her to his will. Only a monster would consider a child collateral damage.
The door opens just as I apply the finishing touches to my makeup. I’m expecting Amadeo, but when I turn to find Bastian standing there, I find myself unprepared. My heartbeat shoots up, and I almost drop the tube of lipstick on the pretty caramel-gold gown.
“Careful. That’ll leave a stain,” he says flatly, a look of disdain on his face.
He’s dressed in a dark suit that barely contains him. His hair is combed back, that five-o’clock shadow along his jaw accentuating the hard angle of it, that scar not ugly somehow. I remember their question to me in the library and have to force myself to blink as heat flushes my neck and cheeks. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me. Why I am remotely attracted to either of them.
His gaze moves over the diamonds at my neck, my ears. He zeroes in on the ring on my finger as I put the lid on the lipstick, and I swear he’s angrier when his eyes meet mine again. That anger makes the amber of his eyes burn like there’s a fire smoldering just beneath ash. Like that fire will flare up again and consume everything in its path.
The thought makes me shiver.
“Ready, Dandelion?”
“Where is Amadeo?”
“Why? Am I not good enough? Or do I make you nervous when he’s not around?”
“You don’t make me nervous,” I say, standing. I cross the room to take the wrap that goes with the dress off its hanger, and am about to slip it over my shoulders when he’s at my back. His fingers brush mine when he takes the wrap from me.
My heart skips. He’s so close, I can feel the heat of his body radiating off him. Smell his aftershave, leather and spice and unyielding man.
I glance back, remembering last night yet again. Them taunting me about fucking two men at once. Fucking them.
My throat goes dry.
He takes me in, gaze moving over my face and pausing at my mouth. He leans close, so close the stubble along his jaw brushes my cheek and every hair on the back of my neck stands on end. He inhales, and I find myself leaning backward, barely catching myself before my body touches his.
I swallow hard as he sets the wrap over my shoulders. I adjust the skirt of the dress, needing a distraction. The pretty silk reaches the floor with a plunging neckline where the heavy diamond pendant of my necklace rests in the space between my breasts. The drop earrings match the necklace. I will return them to the shop tomorrow. Mr. Preston agreed to allow me to borrow them when I suggested he take that money too and give it to the charity. He couldn’t not do it, although I know it hurt him. Hurt his wallet for sure. But greed is an ugly thing, and besides, I’ll be showcasing his diamonds and his shop tonight.
“Do you feel safer when Amadeo’s around, Dandelion?” He brings his mouth to my ear, and it takes all I have to remain still. “Because you’re not.”
I shudder.
Satisfied, he steps away, and I can breathe again.
“My brother will meet us at the restaurant. He had to take care of some business.” He appraises me and gestures to the diamonds. “Did he buy you those?”
“Are you jealous? Did you want big brother to buy you some jewelry?”
“Just remember that Amadeo always has an ulterior motive. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what it is.”
Flustered, I struggle for a response.
“Let’s go. Don’t want to be late when your fiancé announces your engagement. Talk about awkward.”
He gestures to the door, and I move, trying to keep space between us but failing. When we reach the front doors, I see the same guards from earlier and I decide to call them Oaf One and Oaf Two. All four of us walk out to the waiting SUV, the two oafs sitting in the front, Bastian and I in the back. The ride is tense as Bastian texts throughout, and I try not to look at him
I don’t need to be afraid of Bastian. Amadeo won’t let him hurt me. He said they’d protect me. They. But being so close to Bastian, it’s like he’s sucking the air out of the space. Like there isn’t enough oxygen for him, his hatred and me. I can’t go to Amadeo about him. I don’t want to give away the fact that Bastian scares me. Not that Amadeo doesn’t, but Amadeo won’t hurt me. Not yet, anyway. I get the feeling he’s the more reasonable of the two.
We arrive at the elegant restaurant twenty minutes later. Bastian escorts me to the front doors, and I notice a crowd has collected—journalists, I realize, as cameras begin to flash.
“What is this about?” I ask him.
“Big show for your brother,” he says with what onlookers would see as a smile, but what I know is a sneer.
“My brother?”
