My knuckles split on his teeth, but I barely feel it. Because this is what I came for—the rhythm of violence, the simplicity ofthe fight. No vows, no politics, no family to fail. Just me, an opponent, and the purity of pain exchanged blow for blow.
I square up again, and as I circle the Irish brute, my lips peeled back in something closer to a snarl than a smile, I feel that rare calm.
6
EVI
The night stretches on in a blur of light and laughter. Gio and Stephanie’s little boy is a charmer. Jackson is so sweet and full of life. I’m breathless from dancing with him by the time his parents step in to let him know it’s time to head home to bed. I can’t help but smile when he gives a dejected moan.
“Just ten more minutes?” he suggests, turning his big green eyes on Stephanie with a power that would have made me crumble.
“I already gave youfifteenminutes,” she reminds him. “Don’t worry. Evi won’t be going anywhere. I’m sure you’ll see her again soon. Right, Evi?” My new sister-in-law with her adorable black pixie cut and bright peek-a-boo highlights meets my eye with an open acceptance that makes my chest swell, and I beam.
“Absolutely,” I agree, looking down to meet Jackson’s eyes.
“Okay,” he says, then he wraps his arms around my waist, squeezing me with an affection that brings tears to my eyes.
I know I’m only just starting to get to know the Chiaroscuro family, but after all of Anika’s help with the wedding, Stephanie’sinsistence on providing the flowers for the occasion, and now dancing with Jackson when Sandro refused to do more than the first dance, I’m starting to see the softer side to the notoriously brutal, heartless brothers.
They might all be towering giants of solid muscle with intimidating stares, but if they can earn the love of women like Anika, Stephanie, and Sora, they can’t be that bad.Right?
“I’d hoped to congratulate Sandro myself, but it would seem my brother’s skulked off to hide somewhere, so will you tell him for us?” Gio asks, his light hazel eyes soft in the dim lighting of the ballroom.
“Of course,” I agree, my stomach knotting as I realize it’s been some time since I’ve seen Sandro either. I should have been paying closer attention. I hope he’s not upset that I didn’t stay by his side, or worse, thinks I’ve been ignoring him.
“And congratulations to you too, Evi,” Stephanie adds. “Welcome to the family.”
She pulls me in for a hug, and I stiffen momentarily, surprised by the open display of affection. Then I soften into it, grateful for the unguarded acceptance.
“Thank you,” I murmur, blinking back the sudden sting of tears in my eye. It’s no reason to get emotional, but I’m distinctly aware of the warmth that radiates from this family—and I’m grateful for it, when today I will be leaving behind my family, my home, and everything I’ve ever known.
Gio, Stephanie, and Jackson depart, and I turn to survey the room of guests in my moment of quiet. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow across the ballroom, spilling onto polished floors where couples whirl in time with the music. The air smellsof champagne, roses, and too much perfume. Everywhere I turn, there’s noise—clinking glasses, loud toasts, the occasional booming laugh.
But even as I study the dark corners of the room, I don’t see Sandro. A man like him must get restless with all the pomp and frills, so it makes sense that he would want air. But Gio’s right. Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen him in nearly an hour, and my unease grows sharper when I look at the clock.
It’s nearly time for the grand send-off—basically a flashy excuse for the guests to witness that the bride and groom made it to their marriage bed on their wedding night. And I absolutely cannot do it on my own. The rumors would be endless if I go to bed alone on my wedding night. Without evidence that we’veconsummated the marriage, the alliance my family has worked so hard to secure could crumble.
My position as Sandro’s wife could come under fire if I prove unable to have his children and he doesn’t even bother to make an appearance for our wedding night. It could lead to gossip, or worse, people calling into question whether our marriage is even real. And because of my infertility, my reputation and future rely more heavily on this grand send-off than perhaps it would for any other bride.
If Sandro doesn’t show, then everything could fall apart.
With that in mind, I circle the room carefully, trying not to look like a frantic bride who’s lost her husband on her wedding night. I stop to greet guests, smile when they compliment my dress, my hair, the beautiful ceremony today. I accept congratulations like nothing is wrong. But all the while, my eyes skim the crowd, searching for that broad-shouldered figure, his dark hair, the sharp edge of a jaw I could already pick out in a sea of strangers.
Nothing.
The Chiaroscuro brothers are scattered through the party—Miko with Anika at his side, Raf laughing too loudly with a cluster of men near the bar, and Leo tucked in a quiet corner with his wife, Sora, looking like he’ll put a bullet in someone’s skull if they even try to approach. But Sandro is nowhere to be seen.
Tension coils in my stomach.
Where would he go?
I catch myself nibbling on my thumb nail and force my hands to smooth the silk of my gown instead. My mother’s words echo in my mind, about appearances, about duty. If I draw attention to my husband’s absence, whispers will start, and whispers travel too fast in this world.
Pasting a smile on my face, I keep moving.
By the time the announcement for the grand send-off comes, I’m close to breaking. The crowd cheers, lifting their glasses as they accept sparklers and form a tunnel meant to guide me and Sandro straight to the hall of our suite. The music swells as they share the spark down the line and form a glittering archway.
My pulse stutters, my palms growing clammy as I realize I’m out of time.
