DANTE
V’s wedding day is a busy one. I get up early and sit in the old kitchen with my laptop, drinking coffee until she wakes. I know she spent the night with the three of them. They’re her shadows now, and I’ve accepted that they’re not going away any time soon.
After she left the room with the Vice kid, I followed at a distance just to make sure she didn’t do something she would regret. She didn’t. Her boys stopped her, so I left them to it and returned to putting on a show for Adrien.
I never attend his parties. Me being there last night was the show of support he needed to disengage for one night. It gave me time to make good on my deal with V.
Her demand was simple enough, and I have the resources to pull it off. I’m just surprised that she didn’t ask me sooner to take out the names on the list for her. But she’s been distracted by Adrien and those fucking school boys for months. It was never the right time to guide her to her destiny.
Our destiny.
You see, we were always meant to be together.
Our lives are entwined.
I knew the moment I laid eyes on her.
She just didn’t know it until last night, by the old pond, with the rain falling in her eyes. I let her see the truth in mine.
Telling V everything about me was a risk. It needed to be done. She’s too clever and efficient not to have worked it all out for herself. I promised her she would know everything one day—I wasn’t lying. I can never lie to V. All I can do is keep the truth from her. The truth that would hurt her.
Like the forged birth certificate and newspaper clippings, she found in her father’s study…
I almost gave it away when she pulled the necklace out of her dress. But from her face, I could tell she didn’t have all the facts. She was posturing, trying to get me to slip up.
I take the necklace with the pendant out of my pocket and look at it. I took it from around her neck last night when we were by the pavilion when she wasn’t looking. I should burn it.
Just like I should have burned the file.
Instead, I slip it back into my pocket and work through the list V sent me the night before. Everyone on the list is now dead—one hundred and sixty-three, not including the victims or any of Savino’s men. I can only use the agency so much without Adrien getting alerted. Yes, it’s my agency, but for the role that I’m playing here…Adrien is the one who calls the shots. I’ve worked too long and hard to let him think otherwise and throw it away.
After I’ve confirmed the last kill, I finish my coffee and head to where the girls are getting ready on the west side of the house. Several rooms have been set aside for the bride and her party to prepare. I don’t knock or hesitate. I just walk in.
Perfection doesn’t begin to cut it.
My V is standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows on a stool, dressed all in white. One of the girls is fussing with the skirts, but V isn’t in the room. She’s staring off into the view, her eyes guarded and her mouth set in a grim line. I see her like this only when she’s got her back up against it. I like seeing her struggle to survive.
It turns me the fuck on.
Suddenly, she jerks her head my way. Her eyes narrow when she sees it’s me, and she motions to the girl at her hem to leave.
As soon as we’re alone, she glares at me and flashes her thigh where knives upon knives are strapped. “If you’re here to fight, I’m armed.”
I don’t smile at her words, but the corners of my lips twitch. “A deal is a deal,” I say.
Her eyes widen. “So, it’s done.”
“You have to ask?” I cock my head. When she just stares, I add, “One hundred and sixty-three at the last count.”
She lifts a brow. “You took that many out in one night? What are you? Fucking supernatural?”
“Don’t insult me,” I warn her, walking right up to her. “Preparation and hard work. Something you skirt around when it suits you. Now, my agency delivered, and I’ve done my part as I said I would. It’s your serve. What’s it going to be?”
There’s no getting out of this deal, V.
Her eyes blaze, but she nods. Her whole body practically shakes as I pull her to me, tasting her because I can. She yields, briefly, surrendering, moaning into my mouth. But it doesn’t last very long; as voices resound through the open door, her fist thuds against my chest, where I still have an open wound trying to push me off her. I don’t let her go, not even when the voices get closer.
“I told you, you’d be mine,” I say, in her ear, holding her close.