“You’re safe here. Uncle Alaric would burn down half the city before he’d let anyone hurt you.”
Something in his tone makes me look at him sharply. “What makes you say that?”
“My uncle is a principled man. Once you’re under his protection, he’ll go through hell to protect you.”
Over the next two days, Marco becomes my guide to Moretti family politics. He explains which relatives can be trusted, which ones are plotting against Alaric, and which ones are too stupid to be dangerous.
“Cousin Tony thinks he should be running things,” Marco says over lunch on his second day. “Uncle Alaric tolerates him because he’s family, but Tony couldn’t organize a grocery list.”
“What do you do? What’s your duty?”
“Me? I’m the charming nephew who keeps everyone entertained while Uncle Alaric does the real work.”
“Is that all you are?”
“What else would I be?”
There’s no edge to the question, but I file it away anyway.
What I notice most is how relaxed I feel around Marco. He treats me like a real person, not a prize to be guarded. For the first time in months, I feel like I might actually have a friend.
I also notice how cold Alaric becomes whenever Marco and I are together.
On the second day, during lunch, Alaric watches us with an expression that could freeze water. When Marco makes me laugh at dinner, Alaric leaves without finishing his meal.
Lionel seems affected too, finding reasons to interrupt whenever Marco and I are alone. Suddenly, he needs to check windows, deliver messages, or escort me to appointments that don’t exist.
By the evening of Marco’s second day, the tension in the house is thick enough to cut.
I find Alaric in his office after dinner, going through papers with the kind of focus that suggests he’s avoiding something.
“We need to talk,” I say, closing the door behind me.
He doesn’t look up. “About what?”
“About the fact that you’ve been acting like a jealous husband for two days.”
His pen stops moving. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Really?” I perch on the edge of his desk, the same spot where he kissed me on our wedding night. “You don’t know why you’ve been glaring at Marco like he’s stealing your favorite toy?”
“Marco is my nephew. I’m not jealous of him.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Alaric sets down his pen and finally looks at me. “What exactly are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying I can’t help but notice that you get territorial whenever Marco is around me.” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “But don’t worry. It would surely be too much for me to sleep with the son, the father, and the cousin.”
The words hit their target. Alaric’s eyes flash with something dark and dangerous.
“That mouth of yours,” he says quietly. He stands slowly, like a predator preparing to strike. I watch him walk to the door and close it fully, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot.
When he turns back to face me, his expression has changed completely. He’s suddenly the man who took me apart on our wedding night.
“If I didn’t know any better,” he says, moving toward me with deliberate steps, “I’d say you do this on purpose.”
“Do what on purpose?”
