“It seems my cousin has neglected his duties. Foolish. Someone could swoop in and steal his bride.” He said it like it was a joke but the undertones were there. He was here to swoop in and steal me.
“You’re his best man, Francesco. Shouldn’t you be watching me and making sure that I don’t do anything wrong?”
He stares at me, surprised that I was playing along with his game. Almost as surprised as I was that I was indulging this all.
The waiter passed with more champagne and I switched my empty glass for a full one.
After the day I had and how my night was going I would need as much bubbly as I could get my hands on.
“Dangerous tongue for a little queen.”
I scoff at his ludacris nickname, stepping closer as I breathed in Francisco.
Fuck.
He smells like the woods, rich and earthy, spice like cloves and black pepper, and something softer that made me want to fall against him and breathe in his skin. He smelled like bad decisions and a broken heart. It reminded me of my father, the way danger always clung to him like a heavy scent.
And it made me miss the softness of Dante’s smell.
“Your cousin says I’m a princess.”
I watch the way that Francesco licks at his lips, probably thinking about how far he could play this game with me. This teasing back and forth that he had been shocked I was giving him. Not as shocked as I was.
Another deep sip of champagne before I lost my nerve and just walked away.
“No, you’re not a princess. You’re a queen. You can see it in your eyes. You’ve seen too much. You’re too hard for that soft princess stuff.” He steps closer, taking a strand of my straightened here and wrapped it around his finger as he brought it up, breathing me in and just putting a nail in the coffin, “Unless you like to be a princess for him? Or maybe you don’t like it and are looking for someone to treat you like the-”
“I’m going to get some air.”
I push away from him, spilling some of my champagne on his clothes and earning a growl of annoyance that makes me thankful I walked away from him.
I was not the trouble maker. I was the planner. I had a plan that I worked hard for and made sure that everything was calculated and done. I was the mom friend. My friends were the ones that would cause chaos. Not me.
Where was Dante?
Why hadn’t he found me?
Oh, because he didn’t like me. Didn’t want me to reproduce with him. Didn’t want me to be anything but a…princess.
Tears were making my vision blur and I cursed under my breath as I stepped on the elevator, pressing the button to go to the roof as I turned my back to the party and took in a shaky breath as I felt the sob coming out.
My fist shoved into my mouth as I scolded myself.
Get yourself together.
“Don’t let them see you cry, Ilaria.” My back goes straight as the elevator jostles, heading up towards the roof, “Those are your tears to shed and not theirs to see.”
A handkerchief came into my vision as I dab at my eyes, sniffling out a thank you as I tremble.
It’s all just too much right now.
This was supposed to be a celebration but nothing about it made me feel like I had anything worth being happy about. If anything I was more worried than ever that Dante was a terrible idea and that I was going to have a lifetime of heartbreak.
“Dante doesn’t like me.”
“Then he’s a fool.”
The voice was so sure of himself as the doors opened, wind whipping around us as I stepped out of the elevator behind him. My hair flew in every direction as I moved closer to the edge of the building, looking over at the way people looked so small from this far away.
“I’m the fool.” I mutter, closing my eyes and opening my arms up as I try to breathe, “I wish I was a bird so I could fly away.”
A hand wraps around my neck, spinning me so I’m meeting those haunting pale eyes, watching his stare at me as I lean backwards.
I’m hanging off the edge of the building, feeling the way the wind is harder, nothing blocking it as Francesco tightens his grip around my throat, watching me as if he expects me to reach for his hand to be pulled back up.
But I won’t.
“Are you scared of anything?”
He doesn’t pull me back in, just holds me above the city like he is only here to see how far he can push me or maybe he thinks he’s holding me over the city to show me all the power Dante can hold.
Francesco is the enforcer, I can see the blood shed in the shadows of his eyes. The souls he took are hidden there just like my own fathers. Maybe that’s why I don’t fear him.
I grew up in the house of a killer so a man who had hands covered in blood touching me is like a warm embrace.
“Yes.”
The corners of his mouth pull up and I toss my head and arms back, feeling his hand tighten before he yanks me forward, my body against his as Francesco looks at me in a way that Dante never had.
