So here I was, still in this shithole hotel with its sagging mattress and mildew-stained walls, staring at a row of suits I hadn't asked for and didn't want.
Six of them. Pristine. Charcoal, navy, black, slate gray—all hung neatly in the closet like they belonged to someone else. Someone who still had a life worth dressing up for. Angelo'stailor had shown up two days ago, measured me without a word, and delivered these yesterday in garment bags that rivaled the suits I used to own back when being a prince still meant something.
I ran my fingers over the fabric of the nearest jacket. Italian wool. Soft as sin.
I hated how good it felt.
Tonight was black tie. Julienne’s birthday party was at Red Rose Academy. The vampire, wolf shifter, and Unseelie elite would be there in their gowns and jewels, toasting to eternal love while I played errand boy for a mafia king.
And Selena would be on my arm.
I caught my reflection in the cracked mirror above the dresser. The tuxedo fit perfectly—of course it did. Angelo didn't do anything halfway. I looked like a prince again. Like the man I used to be, before the demon crawled inside my skin and ruined everything.
The man I was pretending to be.
I straightened my bow tie and tried not to think about the way Selena had looked at me in that coffee shop.
But I couldn’t help it.
She’d been standing in line, phone in hand, completely unaware I was watching her. Her dark hair had fallen in soft waves past her shoulders. She’d been wearing something simple—a blouse, fitted pants—but it didn’t matter. She could’ve been wearing a paper bag, and she still would’ve stolen the breath from my lungs.
God, she was beautiful. More beautiful than I remembered. The years had only sharpened her features, added a confidence to the way she held herself. She wasn’t the uncertain girl I’d rejected anymore. She was a woman. An assistant professor. Someone who’d built a life without me.
And when she’d looked up and seen me standing there—the hope she’d tried to hide. The hurt underneath it. The way her heartbeat had spiked, even as she’d kept her voice steady.
She'd pulled at me like a fist around my chest. My fangs ached to taste her blood. It had taken everything I had not to reach for her.
But I couldn’t. Not when I was there to use her.
She didn't know what I was. What I was being forced to do.
And if everything went according to plan, she never would.
A knock on the door.
I groaned. My carriage had arrived.
I crossed the room and pulled open the door. Dimitri leaned against the frame, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk already in place. His gaze flickered over me—the tuxedo, the polished shoes, my dark hair falling loose over my shoulders—and he let out a low whistle.
"You clean up nice, Rocco."
"Shut up."
His smirk widened. He tilted his head toward the limo idling at the curb, its black paint gleaming under the streetlights. "Rose and Valentin are already at the party."
My stomach dropped.
That meant the limo would be empty. That meant the entire ride to Red Rose Academy, it would just be me and Selena. Alone. In the back of a car. With this unbearable tension crackling between us like a live wire.
I gritted my teeth. “Why?"
Dimitri shrugged. "Angelo's idea. Wants it to look real."
"You mean Selena and I."
"Who else?" He pushed off the doorframe and gestured toward the stairs. "Come on, Prince Charming. Your date's waiting."
I didn't move. "Dimitri."
