When Villains Rise (Anti-Heroes in Love 2)

I nodded, already wandering down the hall, waving my hand at him. “I’ll be fine, go ahead.”

“Elena,” he called when I turned away, waiting until I looked back to smile and say, “You’ve made me happier than I’ve ever been before. You had the courage to follow me here and I won’t ever forget that or stop striving to be worthy of it.”

“Just you saying that proves you already are,” I murmured softly, the smile on my face almost unfamiliar, tender and aching.

We beamed at each other for a second before the men started trailing in from outside. I nodded to him then turned back down the long hall. There were family photos hung on the plaster walls, images of Salvatore, a young Alexander, Dante from his youth as a gangly kid with unruly thick hair to a robust teen and finally the handsome, enormous man he was today. I touched my fingers to an old framed photo of Tore, Dante, Alexander, and what must have been Chiara and Noel. Much to their chagrin, the boys took mostly after their father, particularly Alexander with his golden coloring. Noel had been a large man, usually tall and thickly muscled for a British peer of the realm, and utterly intimidating even just in the photo. He stood stoically at the edge of the happy little group, Chiara’s hand tucked tightly in his own.

He didn’t not hide his ability to be more monster than man very well.

I knew from stories that Alexander did it a little better, and Dante hid it the best.

But there was an echo of darkness in all their gazes as they stared at the camera.

Even Chiara who was so beautiful and Italianate she looked like a model from the 1950s. She had her hair back with a kerchief but the dark strands tickled her bare shoulders as she bent slightly to put an arm around Dante. They shared the same black hair and dark eyes, the slight indent in the firm chin. The silver chain Dante now wore was visible around her neck, disappearing into the black dress she wore on her slim frame.

A gorgeous family until you looked a little closer.

I swallowed thickly before I moved on, feeling slightly intrusive even though the photos were clearly displayed for anyone to view.

I was about to move on into the kitchen when I noticed a final image, a Polaroid tucked into a simple black frame. It was faded as if it had been handle too often, exposed to the hot Italian sun. But I could make out the woman sitting on the edge of the causeway in the Bay of Naples because I’d spent most of my life looking at her.

Mama.

She was so young, so beautiful, almost identical to Cosima, but with Giselle lushly curved body. Her smile was wider than I’d ever seen it, her head thrown back to the sunny sky, hair a cascade down her back as she relished in whatever joy had just been handed to her. So carefree in a way I’d never had the privilege of seeing Caprice.

I knew Tore had a history with our family, but I’d always assumed it had more to do with mafia dealings and Seamus than Mama.

Now, I wasn’t so certain.

Beside it, there was a larger photo of Dante, Tore, and Cosima. My sister was in the middle of the two men, bracketed by their arms around her and their big bodies angled into her as if they were protecting hr and showcasing her at the same time. There was no darkness in their smiles, only pure, beaming light. After everything Cosima had been through when she was sold into sexual slavery by Seamus, she deserved that happiness and those two men’s protection and affection.

Still, that wicked voice in the back of my mind hissed at me, reminding me that I wasn’t the first Lombardi in this world, that Cosima, and even Mama had come before me. I tried not to let it diminish how special I’d felt being introduced as Dante’s woman, as his Donna, but loneliness seeped in around the edges of my forced conviction.

My old friend melancholy roosted once more in my gut.

I felt suddenly and horrifically alone standing in that long, empty hall in a house of memories I wasn’t apart of and didn’t truly understand because I didn’t actually know that much about Dante’s past yet.

I stared at the photos for a long time, unspooling tangled theories until I was caught up in a mess of threads.

As if summoned by my thoughts, the phone in my purse started to vibrate.

I’d had it on airplane mode for the entire trip and when I flipped on the data, there were messages from Mama, Sebastian, Cosima, Yara, Beau and even Daniel.

Daniel: I had a concerning message from Dante Salvatore. Just checking in to see if you’re okay, Elena.