Dark Queen

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

Brushing his hand over his father’s face, he closes his eyes. His grip tightens on me. “He got to see us marry. He can rest now,” Luca says, his voice strained.

When we leave the room, Antonio is standing next to Marcello, swaying slightly on his feet. “So, he’s dead then?” He juts his chin out to his brother.

“All life is temporary, brother. He lived longer than most,” Luca tells him. A moment passes between them, and then we’re moving, Luca dragging me back to our room.

“You can get some more sleep,” he tells me, going to the closet to pick out a suit.

“What are you going to do?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe, watching his muscles flex as he changes from a t-shirt to a button down.

“Preparations.”

“Luca,” I walk over to him, stroking my palm up his back, “you don’t have to do that right now.”

Turning, he clasps my cheeks, kissing me hard and punishing. “I need to keep myself busy,” he breaths as he breaks away.

I leave him to finish getting ready. Checking my phone, I see a message from Hannah.

Simon quit. Said he’s moving away and you’re marrying Luca.

Please tell me that’s not true.

Don’t do anything until I can speak with you.

I’m home now. I want to talk to you.

Please, Alyssa.

I wait for Luca to leave the room and call her. “Alyssa,” she breathes down the line. “I’ve been worried about you.”

I check the clock. It’s six a.m. “What’s going on, Hannah?”

“Simon quit. Do you know anything about that?”

Walking the room, I recall our conversation. Does she know who he is? “Why would I?”

She sighs. “I don’t know. I think he liked you and was upset. He said you’re marrying Luca?”

“Married,” I correct.

The silence hangs between us. “I’m coming over,” she tells me, ending the call. I stare at my phone not sure if she hung up or lost connection.

Blowing out a breath I go to the closet and pull out a pretty white summer dress the wedding dress designer brought over for me to wear last night for the reception, I brush my hair and teeth, then go down in search for some food.

My stomach growls, empty from missing out on dinner last night.

There’s no sign of a murder.

The dining room is cleared and spotless, breakfast being brought through and set out.

“Madam, can I get you something?” the girl who refuses to use my given name asks me.

“I was just coming to look for some breakfast,” I tell her, and she gestures for me to sit.

“I can bring you anything you want. We have Mr. Leto’s favorite prepared.”

“He’s spoiled.” Marcello chuckles, coming to join me at the table. “I heard last night turned into quite the event after I left.”

My hand goes to my face, the phantom spray warming my cheeks.

“You could say I got to know my husband a little better.” I shrug, reaching for a strawberry and popping it into my mouth.

“And?”

A warmth blooms in my stomach, “I’m still here.” I return his answering smile.

The girl brings a tray of coffee just as Antonio walks in, grabbing a cup and sitting. He eyeballs me over the rim of his mug, his gaze flicking to the space a few feet away where he’s friend died.

“I’m sorry about your father.” I try to be civil, but he scoots out of his chair, taking the coffee pot with him.

“You should stay away from him. At least until we get him sober.” Marcello scoffs.

The smell of bacon wafts in with another waiter. This place is like a hotel. My stomach growls in approval when I shovel a mountain of it onto my plate.

“Hungry?” Marcello asks.

“Ravenous.” I sigh, biting into the first piece. “Were you close with Luca’s dad?”

He re-fills our mugs and helps himself to some bacon and eggs. “I spent most of my time here growing up. My father died when I was a teenager, so I needed a strong father figure, and he was that for me.”

“Will Luca be, okay?” I ask, worried about how this may affect him.

Placing his hand on top of mine, he nods. “His father’s death was expected. It’s easier when you’ve had time to come to terms with it.”

I know that all too well.

“Alyssa, there you are.” Luca frowns, coming to where I’m sitting, and taking my hand. “I need you in my office. Marcello, you too.”

Grabbing a couple of pieces of bacon, I allow Luca to pull me from my seat and through the house to his office.

There’s a man inside wearing a suit that rivals Luca’s. His hair is neatly styled, and he wears a cocksure smile, just like Marcello’s.

“Robert,” Marcello greets him with a handshake. “A little early for business, no?”

“Not when your client is Luca Leto.” The man tilts his head. “I have the documents ready to be signed and filed.”