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But still, we ourselves are not criminals. Or even criminally adjacent, like our grandfather. That was always the major rift in our family: that our dad went into law, instead of following Charles into lawlessness.
“This is fucking medieval, Charles,” Gabriel says coldly. “She’s yourdaughter, for God’s sake. And Dante is…” His face cloudswith rage and he trails off. He doesn’t need to finish the thought. We all know what Dante Sartorre is.
A monster.
A purveyor of sex and hedonism.
One of the last people to have seen our sister alive, when hemarried, out of the blue, on her death bed.
He’s the devil that lurks over your shoulder, whispering poison into your ear as he slowly corrupts your soul. Like he did to Layla.
“I know precisely what Dante is,” Charles tosses back. “He’s connected, but nottooconnected. He’s powerful, yet in need of allies, and?—”
“For fuck’s sake, Charles!” Alistair roars, cutting our grandfather off. “How in thehellare you overlooking his obvious involvement in Layla’s?—”
“Well, I don’t see him in jail for it,counselor!” Charles volleys back, jabbing a finger at my brother. “So unless there’s a smoking gun you’ve had up your ass for the last fifteen?—”
“Does sheknow!?”
My shrill scream silences the room for a second. My pulse thuds in my ears, and for a second, as the too-familiar wave of dizziness washes over me, I’m terrified I’m going to faint again. I’m terrified that I’m going to give myself away, and if I do that right here in front of all of them, there’ll be no avoiding the question ofwhy.
And right now, I don’t have time for the why.
I don’t have much time for anything at all, actually.
“Maeve is well aware of what her duty to this family entails—Tempest!”
I ignore Charles’ blustering as I storm across the room toward the closed double doors out to the main foyer of the house. One, because I need to talk to Maeve,now, and reassure her I’m going to get her out of this, even if I have no idea how. And two, because there’s a solid chance I’m going to faint unless I get the hell out of this room.
“Tempest, this is happening!” Charles roars at my back as I reach for the doorknobs. “And Maeve is?—”
“You can go to hell, Charles,” I spit over my shoulder as my fingers curl around the brass knobs. “You and that sick psychopath Dante!”
I fling open the doors and surge through them…
Until I slam directly into something hard, chiseled, and wrapped in three-piece linen and silk. My world goes upside down as I gasp sharply and tumble backward off my heels. Instantly, two strong, powerful, veined hands grab my wrists in their iron grip, yanking me back upright until I crash back into that firm, broad chest again.
My eyes drag up over the crisp, white dress shirt, the faint shine of a black silk tie, the bronzed, Mediterranean skin of a muscular neck and chiseled, perfect cheekbones. The slight cleft in the chin. The insidiously beautiful and kissable lips…
Yet it’s the eyes that capture my soul and bind it fast: sharp, icy-blue, and piercingly lethal beneath a shock of perfectly coifed dark hair.
“Speak of the devil…” Dante growls quietly.
My heart lurches into my throat. I flinch as if to move away from him. But Dante’s strong grip only tightens on my thin wrists, sending my pulse skyrocketing and my head swimming. His strong fingers clench even tighter, and those eyes of his don’t even blink as they zero in on mine.
“…And he shall appear,” he murmurs.
His lips curl dangerously into a darkly unsettling quasi-smile, his eyes glinting as they eviscerate me.
“Now: I do hope I haven’t missed the surprise?”
2
DANTE
When I stepout of the Range Rover, my brow darkens into a scowl as I glare up at the looming stone New Jersey mansion belonging to Charles Black.
Mine’s bigger.
