The file in my father’s study was a decoy. The photograph of the woman on the other side of the locket says it all. She even looks like him. After I saw his birthdate next to Ophelia’s name, I knew it was her in the picture with her blue eyes and blonde hair. The image is old and faded, so it’s hard to tell, but it has to be her. If he doesn’t know his mother, why would there be a picture of her inside this necklace?
And more importantly….
Why would Adrien have had it?
It’s all in Dante’s reaction to it. I just have to figure it out. I need to wait for the right time to bring it up. I also need to think of the best way to use the information.
So I say nothing, staring into his eyes as the drizzle sticks his new shorter haircut to his forehead. I know my hair is plastered to my face, just as my dress is stuck to every curve of my body.
As usual, Dante hasn’t fucking noticed.
Because he’s not motivated by lust at all.
What drives you, Dante, if it’s not your dick or wallet. What the hell do you want?
“If you’re not working for my father, what do you want?” I say, letting the necklace fall back against my shirt. Sometimes it’s best just to ask outright.
He snorts, water flicking off him as he shakes his head. “I think that’s obvious.”
“No, it’s not. All I can think is that this is entertainment for you.”
The smile teases the corner of his lips. “V, I want what everyone else wants.”
“And what’s that?”
His eyes narrow, but he looks right at me, empty blue eyes pulling me into their depths like they always do. “I want you.” He looks me up and down, wet curves and all. “And your name.”
I blink at him. “My name? You said that before but I don’t get it.”
“I’ll never be a Savino or a Harper Black. My father won’t allow it unless….”
And there it is.
Dante wants to fucking marry me too.