Page 37 of Lovely Venom

“Not everything you hear about me is true.”

She looks at me like she wants to question that before she decides better of it.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re dangerous.”

“Hmm.” I drag my fingers over the red marks on her cheek, and she shivers. “And what about Mariella? Or my brothers? Are they dangerous too?”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“I know what you meant.”

She averts her gaze, effectively ending that conversation before she blurts out anything else she’d rather not admit. It goes without saying Chantel isn’t afraid of the Mafia. She spends enough time with my sister for me to know she’s disturbingly comfortable around violence and chaos, which only leaves more questions about her background. It’s a mystery I have yet to solve.

I feel my way down her neck, bloodlust seeping through my veins as I examine the bruises on her skin. I almost killed Marco earlier. Now I wish I had. If it weren’t for Angelo, I doubt I would have stopped myself.

It’s rare that I lose control, and I make a general rule to avoid anything that unleashes those emotions in me. But some things defy logic.

“Does it hurt?” I ask.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Only my pride. I should have seen the warning signs. I knew he was spinning out of control, I just never thought he’d actually want to hurt me.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

If anything, I should have seen it.

Marco has been self-destructing since his father pulled the plug on his free and easy lifestyle. The pressure of carrying on his family’s legacy crushed his hubris, and his failures have been catastrophic. He’s lost several of their biggest clients, fucked up deals that were practically handed to him, and made a mockery of himself.

Over the past few weeks alone, his mistakes have cost the company and their clients millions of dollars, not to mention the reputational damage. Marco sunk cash into risky ventures, rushed deals without due diligence, and refused to cut losses when he should have. Now his father is left to weather the fallout.

On the surface, Marco is naturally charismatic, but he’s also a chameleon. He can charm a room and talk a good game, selling a different version of himself to every person he meets. With me, he presented himself as loyal and fearless. But beneath the mask, his loyalty is actually entitlement, and his fearlessness is performative.

He’s empty inside, and people don’t often realize that until it’s too late. But even so, there are some lines I thought he’d never cross.

Tonight, he proved me wrong.

“You knew he was cheating, didn’t you?” Chantel asks.

“I told him he needed to come clean.”

“Why?” She frowns. “Doesn’t that go against your bro code or whatever?”

“I don’t cover for liars and cheats.” My gaze drifts to the marks on her arms. “Or men who hurt women.”

She’s quiet as I check the back of her head for swelling.

“Any pain here?”

“No.” Her voice softens.

Tonight, there’s a vulnerability in her she doesn’t often show. But the moment she realizes I’ve noticed it, she disengages and leans back, reverting to the familiarity of her armor.

“I didn’t love him.” She glances down and smooths her fingers over her dress. “So you shouldn’t feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t.”

She doesn’t miss the edge in my tone, and I can feel her studying me as I retrieve her weapon from the table. The fixed-blade push dagger isn’t an accessory. It’s double-edged with a skeletonized handle designed for a low profile. Against my better judgment, my curiosity won’t be sated until I know exactly where she carries it.

“Where does this belong?”