But then I see my dad’s Rolls is in the driveway and perk up. He’s home, and that means some company until bedtime. He’ll grill me about what I’ve been up to, and we’ll have Thai or Chinese takeout for dinner.
My me time of fantasies of Blondie will have to wait. I skip up the driveway, never once guessing who lies in wait.
* * *
Kaiser
* * *
I stand in Bella’s home with St. James and Damien, the leader of the Fraternitas. We’re all in masks, mostly to protect Damien’s identity. Outside the brotherhood, he’s known only as The Devil.
We’re in the Poisoner’s office. Damien sits behind his desk, and Benjiro Bosco, the Poisoner himself, stands before him, like a supplicant.
“Once I sign this,” he motions to the papers on the desk, “it’s done? You will protect my daughter?”
“We will protect both of you,” St. James says.
“You will keep her safe?”
“You have my word,” I say. “She will belong to me. And no one touches what’s mine.”
The Poisoner’s shoulders slump. He knows he’s beaten. We’ve given him a good deal, and he knows it. I sense he’s actually relieved. He can’t defend his daughter against the Vesuvios, and he knows it.
St. James goes over the contract, and the Poisoner signs it. He has no choice.
I add my name. Just my first name because my last name is long forgotten. Damien and St. James sign as witnesses and add a wax seal.
I can’t stop the feeling of triumph from spreading through me. Belladonna Bosco is officially mine.
“I need to tell her,” the Poisoner says.
“She’s on her way now.”
I pick up the contract. Written proof that I now possess her.
She won’t like it. She’ll fight me, but the contract is signed. It’s too late.
8
Kaiser
* * *
When Bella walks in, she stops short at the sight of her father surrounded by men in masks.
“Papa? What’s going on?”
I’m in the back, keeping still to blend in with the shadows. From here, I can see every microexpression that flits over her face.
Her skin pales, but she doesn’t scream. She takes in the sight of us in our masks with remarkable calm. First, she squints at St. James, then sweeps her gaze to Damien, who’s sitting behind the desk.
The tingles in my palm spread up my arm. My fingers flex convulsively.
“We had some business to discuss with your father,” Damien rasps. “And now you.”
She blinks. “Me?” With her slight build and pale white-blonde hair, she looks innocent as a girl.
Looks are deceiving. She belongs in a devil mask of her own.
