“I need the medication I ordered. I saw the delivery note, so I know you accepted my package.”
He reaches into a drawer and pulls out one of the packages I ordered. The EpiPens but not the suppressors.
“You don’t need them,” Valentine says, the blue of his eyes hidden behind a wall of determination.
I shake my head, cutting him off, ending this before it starts. Because standing in front of them, my Omega side is coming in faster than a blizzard in an Arctic winter.
“You changed my name, you lied about my future, and you think you deserve that side of me?” I blink past the sudden welling of tears and watch the twitch of Bella’s ears for a fewmoments until I can speak again without breaking down. The way they smell, and look, is like everything I’ve wanted, but not one part of this is about them right now. This is all about me. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who said not to show any weakness, Valentine. So, you stay on your side of the house, and I’ll stay on mine. When you need me to be your trophy wife, let me know, and I’ll slide it into my schedule.”
I make it three steps toward my bedroom before Dante finds his voice. “Do you really think we didn’t know who you really are, Ariana?”
The world falls out from under me.
Slapping my hand over my mouth, Bella whines and pushes her body against my legs, and I dig my hand into her fur.
Dante might have been the one to shock me, but Valentine takes over sharing what they discovered. “Ariana Charlotte Rothchild, born nearly twenty-four years ago. Mother, Charlotte Rothchild née Langman, now deceased. Father is Attorney General Harrison Ronald Rothchild. Older brother, Prosecutor Harrison Ronald Rothchild. Younger brother recently graduated from Yale with honors and is about to start his own legal career.
“Attorney General Rothchild has an impressive career, spanning decades. He has tried and convicted several heads of some of the most notorious crime families, including the Cosa Nostra, the Triad, and the Irish Mob. There has been speculation for years that the Rothchilds have been accepting money from a faction in exchange for courtroom favors against the other syndicates.”
Valentine waits until I twist around to face him.
“Want me to go on about your family? Or do you want to talk about how you are our scent-perfect mate?”
16
Valentine
The three of us see the exact moment my overly passionate, slightly grandiose speech becomes too much for her to take.
I blame my Italian heritage for making my speech more dramatic than needed. At the same time, I think Ariana needs the pomp and ceremony. She needs the big, bold declarations and the huge reveals because she’s been mistreated and let down by life, time and time again.
She sways on her feet before crumbling. Dante does a superman leap, narrowly avoiding the snapping teeth of a protective Bella, to catch our wife. But, smartly, he recognizes how protective the Doberman is, and he positions himself so Bella can see he’s not harming her in any way.
Sudden scratching from dog nails gouging a path is the only warning we get that Edward is about to join the chaos. The whole situation is about to descend into bloodshed until Dante starts repeating “Jacob” over and over.
I shouldn’t laugh at my wife programming her protection dogs with the safety wordJacob, but once I start, it’s hard to stop. Considering the strange day we’ve had, the laughter spills out of me in relief. Sure, some of the drama from today I brought on myself, but I’ve been beyond stressed. There was a risk that despite us knowing she was our scent match, we might not have been hers. Although judging by her reaction, I think we all can safely assume, Layne feels the same way we do.
And we did know she’s ours. From the instant Matteo walked back into our home, stood in our elevator and infused the space with Ariana’s unique, barely concealed caramel scent, my brother—in name only—proved he had found the missing piece of my existence while also inadvertently confirming the concept that fate is as real as a heart attack.
Obviously fate has a dark sense of humor, because the twisted threads of destiny weaving Ariana’s and Pack De Luca’s future path together started years ago, when she was born to a family whose sole mission in life is to destroy ours.
Proving our loyalty and devotion to Ariana will be the test of our relationship. But that’s what guns and violence are for.
“Can we call Ronnie back to pick these dogs up yet?” Dante chuckles from where he sits on the floor still, our wife in his arms.
Ronnie is one of our own, having worked with our pack since he arrived from Sicily with one of our cousins years ago.
“Once she’s awake, maybe. But I want her to feel in control,” Matteo says quietly, his eyes roving over her, making sure she’s okay. Matteo, ever the diplomat. “Take her to her room, Dante, and don’t climb into her bed with her.”
“She needs to know she’s not alone,” my brother insists, voicing the words I was about to say. He looks at me and winks, because he knows I was thinking about it too.
“The dogs will do that.”
Dante rises effortlessly with her in his arms, despite the dogs pressing their muzzles into her. He whistles, and I shouldn’t be surprised my brother knows all the commands to control the dogs. But I still watch, amused, as the dogs take position, one at the front, one at the back to shadow each step he makes.
Matteo doesn’t follow. Instead, he goes to the fridge for a plate of food he already assembled—dry crackers, small slithers of apple, handmade chocolate truffles.
“You’re spoiling her,” I comment, merely me talking aloud, making an obvious statement.
