It had been an hour since my eyes devoured the woman inside my penthouse. They were starving. After our time in Orvieto, the sugar in my blood would disappear if I did not see her every few minutes, even if she was lounging around with her black glasses on.
I fucking loved those glasses.
They screamedravage me in the library.
Valerio stood when he noticed our two making their way outside. I fixed my suit and went to join Valerio. Naomi stepped out first, saying something over her shoulder to Ava. When Naomi cleared the view, Ava came into focus.
Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in bright blonde waves. Her blue eyes were almost neon in the fading light and against the dark makeup over her eyelids. Her lips were a pale pink.
Her body was on fucking display.
She wore a tight white dress that had a gossamer type material over one shoulder that drifted below her knees. The silky material immediately caught the soft light and shimmered against the darkness. Her heels were high and as eye-catching as the dress.
Fuck.
She was gorgeous.
My eyes could not get enough of her.
I was not a man who harbored many regrets, but agreeing to this night was one of them. I ached to stay in with her, peeling that dress off slowly, nothing left but skin and bone after.
Laying her bare to me and claiming what was rightfully mine.
This woman.
A woman whose eyes broke with sadness when she spoke about the things that turned her blood cold and froze her with fear. Those same eyes burning through winter when she spoke of the things she loved—when she looked at them.
Her eyes were burning when she met mine across the rooftop.
Her eyes were on fire, but her body had turned cold.
She was mad.
Beyond mad.
Pissed.
Whatever it was, I could tell she was trying to hide the hurt it had caused.
Something had hurt her.
I could read her as if she were a book.
Because she was mine and our stories had always been tangled.
I knew it the moment I spotted her at the event in Venice.
She wore a symbol to send me following in her direction.
On the cloak she thought was lost were two angel wings done in crystals. Underneath candlelight, they had shimmered and caught my eye.
The same as the tattoo on my back, but they were inked into my skin.
She had always been.
My brother came to stand next to me. He squeezed my arm. He spoke in Italian. “She knows about Elettra.” My brother put another glass of whiskey in my hand. “Do not be upset with Zeta. She did not know it had not been announced.”
My angel’s eyes were still locked with mine.
