Chapter Two
“Believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see.” —Edgar Allan Poe
Del
I’m so nervous I want to puke.
King still hasn’t shown up.
I know this is one of those days where we have a serious talk about what our future looks like and how things are going to work out. It’s going to get complicated, but he did promise me.
He promised nothing would change.
And it was the only promise I needed, that I could still love Roman. Even though I knew we couldn’t get married now, at least I could have him.
He’d been so pissed when I gave him his ring back, and then he’d cried, gotten drunk, yelled, apologized, then asked if there was any way we could run away together.
Instead, I ran toward King.
It was the only way to save my family and the only way to strengthen theirs. Everything was a power play, and we were nothing but pawns in that game.
I asked my uncle a week ago if I had a choice. He seemed so confused by the question itself that I already knew the answer. As he stared at my left hand, my engagement ring burned on my finger. When my dad died, when my other uncle died, I knew in my soul I would take over my Family.
Until my last uncle, rose up and took the throne.
Now I’m screwed.
Now my life is not my own.
My story is already written.
I never imagined when I said yes to Roman that I would, a week later, be handing back that small diamond ring and telling him that I couldn’t marry the pauper anymore. No, I was marrying the prince himself.
Roman had grown up poor; his dad was still working on becoming a made man. We met by accident, Roman and I. We met when I got in a fight with my boyfriend at the time and ran across my yard and tripped, nearly landing headfirst in one of the gorgeous fountains on my father’s property.
Roman caught me when I stumbled, and I swear my world went into slow motion as he twirled me in his arms and looked down at my face. “Not the intro I was waiting for, but I’ll take it.” He winked.
And I nearly died.
He had jet-black hair, the bluest eyes I’d ever seen, and his smile was devastating as he set me on my feet and announced, “One day, I’m going to propose to you at this fountain.” He tilted my chin toward him. “And you’re going to say yes.”
“Who the hell are you?” I jerked back.
He shrugged. “Your future husband.” Then he held out his arm. “Want to go for a walk?”
And that was it.
Literally.
We saw each other every day after that.
Until I gave him his ring back.
His dad recently died, and now Roman was a captain for my family, the Buratti Family, working his way up to a made man and more.
I am so damn proud of him in his black suit as he stands next to my uncle, staying close just in case someone tries to carry out another ridiculous assassination attempt.
Lately, it seemed like everyone was trying to kill my family.
My long-lost uncle was powerful in Sicily, but here in the states? Here people just wanted what he had, which was control over several of the cities in Italy. He had more power than local authorities and all because he cared about the people. But he got hungry.
So hungry.
Mom died.
Dad changed, then died.
And my uncle? He followed suit.
Until the final heir rose to the occasion—the uncle that never really gave a shit—and took the crown I was owed. After all that work. All that blood. I still ended up being a pawn in a game I never wanted a part of.
My uncle suddenly wanted more than cities.
He wanted it all.
And there I stood, helping him.
Taking a ring off my finger and replacing it with a heavier one, because what freaking choice did I have? Do I have?
Roman looks over at me and nods his head once.
I jerk my chin toward the bathroom.
He blinks slowly.
I don’t need anything but him.
Nearly falling off my heels, I make my way to the bathroom, open the door, and step inside. Then I close the door and wait for his knock.
He knocks twice.
I jerk open the door, grab him, and pull him in, kissing him as he lifts me onto the counter and spreads my legs wide so he can walk between them.
“I missed you,” I say between kisses.
“I’m dying for you. Where’s this King guy anyway?”
“Late.” I kiss him harder. “I know it sounds weird, but you’ll like him. Plus, we came up with a sort of arrangement.”
“Doesn’t matter.” His grip tightens on my ass, fingers digging in. “You’re mine.”
“Yours,” I promise. I swear. I speak it out loud, willing it to be true until my voice is hoarse. King is great.