“Correct. If it wasn’t me, it would be you. We really fucked up, Val.”
I rock back on my heels angrily.
But it doesn’t take long for me to mentally concede. In a lot of ways, she’s making us softer. She’s already made Dante more cinnamony than a roll from Cinnabon, but I also know there is nothing wrong with him becoming lighter for her.
We’ve done everything asked of us in our work life. Our illustrious career is full of deep scars, and there is no doubt my twin suffered the majority of Vitale’s cruelty. His only sin was being born after me, something Vitale has always held against him.
It’s lucky we were the babies of the family, because we got the unchecked attention of the De Luca women, the real drivers of our success. When Vitale and his sons were scheming and trading blood for turf and titles, our nonna was promising us, in whispered words, that she’d seen change coming and pushed us to be ready.
She also said land and money could be taken, but the other half of our souls, the love of our lives, is what we will go to war for.
I never got it, until now. Even in lust with my wife, I’m a goner. I’ll be a mess when that lust evolves into love.It’s inevitable, too, because Ariana makes me feel alive. She challenges me to be better, and our pack will become everything she needs because Ariana De Luca will need protection.
She will be viewed as a Trojan horse by every person in our universe and probably for the rest of her life. It makes sense that Matteo, Dante, and I will step up and be her Spartacus. I seriously don’t give a fuck that all my ancient histories are mixed up. The moral of my references are clear as fucking day—we will protect her with everything we are.
We just need to prove it to her before she either kills us or disappears without a trace.
17
Layne
Sitting up my head spins but fragments of how I got back to my room settle into place pretty fast. I freaking fainted, which is embarrassing in itself. Dante’s cherry scent is on my skin like a perfume.
His scent though is the missing piece of the puzzle, and as I start to remember how he carried me to my room, I also recall what Valentine said. It’s more shocking the second time around too. Rubbing my eyes to control the threat of tears, I breathe through another wave of emotion. Of course, I compare what happened today with what happened with Rocco. With him it’s easier to understand, Rocco was a reminder of Alpha brutality and nothing more. But in the space of a week, Pack De Luca have slipped under my defenses and all but shredded the last of my reserves.
And that is a more precarious place to be for an Omega. For anyone, really, because if I can’t trust myself, how can I look to someone else? How can I read if their intentions align with mine?
For a few moments with the De Luca Pack, I honestly thought we were on the same page. We mostly agreed on an end date. I played the part, and in the process, started to let my guard down. I missed the plot twist, even though I was a key player.
The bitterest pill to swallow is how easily and quickly my defenses dropped. And now I feel a fool. I honestly thought I meant something to Pack De Luca, but how could I mean anything to them after they discovered I was not just a Rothchild, but the missing Rothchild. I’m their enemy. A valuable one at that, considering the reward for information on my whereabouts is still being offered.
Valentine wasn’t wrong about the Rothchild family mission being the eradication of organized crime. It’s a family vision passed down from generation to generation, much like the natural affinity of understanding the machination of law. Something each member of my family shares, including me.
I swear, there is something in our DNA that gives us the ability to take complicated and overly verbose documents and be able to interpret, analyze, and defend with frightening accuracy and barely any effort. Some people are athletic, others have a connection with the earth, but the Rothchild’s live and breathe law, in all its glory.
None of the other students at Yale would study with me because of it. The professors and tutors didn’t have anywhere near the same level of knowledge as me, so instead of just passing the Yale curriculum, I had to passandreceive high distinctions in every task, paper, and project set by a Rothchild. But I did.
Days before graduating from law school, I was forced to turn my back on my academic success and all those years of study. Walking away from a family who doesn’t love me was terrifying but also easy when the truth of how fucked up my immediateand extended family are came to light. But being forced to give up law was hard.
Valentine wasn’t wrong about someone lining my father’s pockets, but it wasn’t with money. God knows the Rothchilds have enough wealth to last until the end of the earth. Instead, my father desires power.
The moment I heard him speaking to a visiting Alpha, agreeing that the stranger could have the honor of taking his virginal daughter off his hands—either keeping or killing me afterward—I ran. The second thing I did was make the mistake of asking my brother for help and discovering that, like my father, he wouldn’t just let me disappear. For someone so smart in law, I was pretty stupid in life.
How I escaped, I will never know, but I did. That same night, I also found the strength to use a random man in a Greyhound terminal. In my mind, if I wasn’t a virgin, there was less of a risk to my safety.
But that was history, and I was no longer naive to the desperation of some people. Well, I didn’t think I was until meeting Pack De Luca and finding myself trapped in a sham marriage. Maybe I’m still too trusting or plain dumb.
Eventually, I stop pretending I’m sleeping and give in to the urge to run my hands over Bella’s fur. She’s lying so close, I can smell coconut oil from her last shampoo. I wish I could bury my face and fill my lungs with it, but Matteo’s subtle vanilla ice-cream scent is also impossible to ignore. No matter how much I wish otherwise.
“Did you want something?” I ask him. “Do I need to be a good wife and go somewhere with you?”
It sucks to hear myself talk out loud because my voice is as quiet and broken as the way I feel inside. Shattered isn’t a broad enough description for the million cuts I’m bleeding from.
“Ari…”
“Don’t call me that. Never. Jesus, if you can do one thing for me, let it be that,” I whisper, my voice getting caught in my throat.
Edward gives a low rumble of warning, but it’s almost after the fact, because I felt Matteo rising out of the chair he was sitting on and coming closer.
