Her gaze drops to the unzipped crotch of my pants and she’s not quick enough to turn her head away as she clears her throat.
I was right. Just a dirty girl thinking dirty thoughts. Good. Dirty is good.
“It has nothing to do with him. The veil is my mother’s.” She stops, gives a shake of her head. “It was my mother’s. And I want it back.”
I watch her face. Watch her try to mask her emotions. “She’s been dead a long time. Why would it matter?”
“You don’t forget people you love. Unless you’re some kind of monster, of course.”
Her words hit their mark.
I grit my teeth.
She doesn’t know. She’s just throwing words at me. Just words. She lost her mother weeks before I lost mine. Parents killed by those two assholes lying with half their faces blown off downstairs.
I turn into the bathroom and strip off the rest of my things, then switch on the shower and step under the flow.
“Hey!” She’s at the door.
I look at her.
She glances down then quickly away as her neck and cheeks flush with embarrassment.
“I want my veil. I mean it.”
“I haven’t even decided how long you’ll live yet, and you want a stupid veil from a wedding you were forced into?”
“I told you, it belonged to my mother.”
“It’s got your brothers’ brains all over it. Ruined. Like the dress. Get it off and get in the shower.” I switch off the water and step out, grabbing a towel to wipe my face, very aware how red her face has turned. “Please tell me you’ve seen a dick before.”
“Fuck you.”
I give her a smile I don’t feel in my eyes. “I will. As soon as you’ve got that shit cleaned off you.”
Her mouth falls open.
I wrap the towel around my hips and when I move toward her, she scurries back. Passing her, I walk into my closet, pull on briefs and choose another suit. I hear the bedroom door open then close. I’m sure that’s Scarlett thinking she can just walk out of here. I chuckle as I step into the slacks and slide my arms into a button-down.
When I return to the bedroom, she’s just walking back into it.
“You looked,” I say, dropping the suit jacket over the back of a chair as I button up my shirt.
“What? I’m not looking at you.” Her face gets that pink hue again as she folds her arms across her chest and makes a point of not looking at me for all of a second.
“I mean you watched your uncle kill your brothers. You knew what was coming and you watched.”
Her eyes darken to a deep caramel and suddenly, I’m taken back. Caught off guard.
Burnt sugar. The smell from the kitchen. Mom standing over the pot, swirling it. Smiling. We’re standing beside her, watching in awe as she makes caramel.
I give a shake of my head. The image is gone as quickly as it came—a split second of memory. It leaves a void in its place and has me wondering if it’s truly a memory or something I was told.
Focus.
Scarlett grits her teeth, jaw tensing.
“Why did you look?” I ask.
“Is my brother going to be okay?”
“Why?”
“Because he’s my brother.”
I walk toward her, and she backs up until the backs of her legs hit my bed. I catch her before she falls onto it, straighten her, taking her jaw in my hand, putting my thumb over her lips. “You like playing games? I’d be careful playing them with me if I were you.” I release her and turn to walk across the room. “Do not sit on any of my furniture until you get that dress off.”
Opening a drawer, I look at the array of cufflinks. My dad’s supposedly. Fuck. Again. Nothing. Not a god damned thing. The only thing I recognize is the engagement ring I tossed in here after taking it off Scarlett’s finger.
I choose a pair of cufflinks at random, closing the drawer a little harder than I need to.
“Why did you look?” I ask again as I turn to her, slipping the links into their slots.
“Because they deserved what they got. Actually, they deserved worse. You were too easy on them.”
“Hmm.” I study her. See a hate in her eyes I find familiar. That’s good. That’s what I need to see.
“Why did you have my uncle do it?”
“Why did I have him kill them?”
She nods.
“A test of loyalty.”
She snorts, rolls her eyes.
“He failed. But to be honest, he’d have failed either way. Kill your own blood and I know you’re a traitor. Don’t, and you’re not loyal to me.”
She’s confused, her forehead wrinkling.
“The reaper stands at his door either way.” A knock at the door interrupts us. “Yes.”
The door opens and my uncle, David, peeks his head inside. When he sees the girl, I see a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but he’s quick to catch himself. I’m sure he’d agree with Dante. I should have killed her and the boy, too.