“Yeah, well, I can only do so much. Your brooding brings balance.”
“Glad to be of service.”
He stops me just before I reach the door. “Lorenzo.”
I turn.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks quietly, eyes searching my face with that too-perceptive Amante intuition.
For a second, I almost answer. I almost tell him the truth: that I forced Victoria to marry me. That she’s technically a prisoner.
My prisoner.
Instead, I grin. “I’m always okay.”
Matteo might not believe me, but he respects me enough not to ask.
I walk out before he can press.
Outside, the night feels heavier. The weight of the lie sits between my shoulders like an invisible blade. I slide into my car and check my phone automatically.
A camera feed shows Victoria still asleep. Silk sheets are tangled around her body. She tosses and turns, a hand reaching out frantically. It’s like she’s fighting demons in her dreams.
Probably me.
Good.
She should fear me. She should hate me, and hopefully, that will keep her exactly where I put her.
Because if she runs, if she leaves me again—
This time, I won’t survive it.
I start the car, the engine rumbling like a threat, and pull out of the estate.
War is coming. I can feel it.
And I’ll burn down all of Boston before I let anyone take another thing from me.
Especially her.
Even if she never wanted to be mine.
35
Victoria
I wake up with a start.
It feels like I’m choking.
My eyes blink against the bright sunlight streaking across my room, and apparently my face.
Wait. Something feels wrong…
Where the hell am I?
My brain scrambles to place the room: the towering ceilings, the carved moldings, the unfamiliar silk sheets tangled around my legs.
