“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I told him archly.
He grasped my hand and dropped a broken piece of straw into my palm, heat flaring in my cheeks at his knowing smile.
“Well… fine. But I will not enjoy any of this. Not one bit,” Icrossed my arms over my chest, clutching that little piece of straw.
He arched a brow. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Well, you’re a terrible guest, and you should leave,” I shot back.
“Like I said, you’ll get used to me.” He pulled the door open. The night air slid in, damp and cold, smelling of lagoon fog. “I’ll be around. In the shadows. At your wedding, always watching.”
“Thank the gods that’s not creepy at all,” I muttered dryly.
He smirked. “Try not to stab me before I finish my job, Em.”
“Only my brother’s allowed to call me that. And honestly, you should probably watch your back,” I snapped.
Nico laughed, genuine and bright, before he stepped out into the alley. As though he willed them into place, the wards shivered as he crossed them, flaring for an instant, then settling again—sealing me in.
I stood there, staring at the little piece of straw in my hand, heart beating too fast, skin prickling. I could kill a man without a sound, negotiate a trade deal with any foreign power, set a table fit for royalty, but there was one thing I was clueless about.
Something that haunted my thoughts, and I didn’t have the slightest clue how to deal with.
I’d never been with a male.
Hadn’t even been kissed. Hard to find time for that sort of thing when you’re learning international law and the fastest way to kill an enemy combatant.
Which was probably why all I wanted to do was run back to the training room and throw knives until dawn, until I’d scraped his deep, velvety voice out of my head.
But heat had settled between my legs, like some restless itch I couldn’t scratch.These people were the enemy.I wasn’t even down the wedding aisle, and I was already failing in my quest to avenge my own father.
Instead, I smoothed my face into something placid and dull, and turned toward the corridor where Luca was storming toward me, the look on his face demanding answers I did not want to give him.
Let Nico Draconi watch me.
Tomorrow night, I would wear white, play the sweet little princess, flutter my eyelashes, and pretend.
Despite my growing doubts about Gabriel’s guilt, Marcello was still my target, and, when the time came, I would show him exactly what kind of monster he’d invited into his home.
23
EMBERLINE
By the time Isola dei Lupicame into view, the fog had turned to light rain, and my fingers were numb from gripping the metal rail like it was my only lifeline to a past that had already slipped away.
Castello Dominico rose out of the lagoon like something carved from bone—all Istrian stone and dark roofs, pointed turrets and arches, and a bell tower that disappeared into the low-hanging clouds.
This island was the kind of place you’d never leave unless the person with the key let you out.
“Keep breathing, Emberline,” Nico counseled. “And loosen up that grip. You’re going to crack your knuckles if you squeeze any harder.”
I forced my fingers to unclench from the railing. We were going old school tonight and taking a boat to the island, something about grand entrances and tradition and blah, blah, blah. I’d stopped listening after Nico informed me—without a hint of sarcasm—the Dominico females would be dressing me for my own wedding.
Like…what the fuck?
“I’m perfectly calm.”
“You look like you’re about to jump and swim back to Venice.”
