Femme Fatale (Pericolo #1)

“And here I was, thinking you were just a pretty face,” he jokes lightly.

“Devilish mind,” I counter with a wink and realize what the fuck we’re doing! I don’t know how, but it turned playful when we should be working ways to get me off scotch free and rid my father in this awful equation. “We’re both in a predicament here,” I state and wring my hands together with trepidation. “This is not something we can get out of quickly.”

Zane reaches for me, yanking my hands apart. “Are you sure you can’t delay your murderous intent with me?”

I shake my head. “I already tried, Zane. I mean this new idea might work, but he threatened to sell me and kill me already, I might not have another chance. I just worry he won’t grant me that any longer.” I watch Zane’s face thunder over, his eyes looking ready to kill. But I wave him off. “My brothers took care of him. We might be on a tight timeframe, but I want to fight my way out of this now. I want to be with you. I want a chance of a future with you.” Then, as if to seal the deal, I murmur his own litany at him. “It’s always going to be you.”

It seems to have worked as he pulls me into his grasp again and doesn’t let go immediately. As the adrenaline drips from my system, leaving me dry and completely spent, I look at him tiredly. We’re both fighting our own battles all while trying to find ways not to destroy a future for us both. He wants to save me; I want to save him. I beg with the gods to issue me a simple life.

I’ve lost all my fight, and for once, I realize I feel free with it. I look up at him, my hand reaching up to softly touch his face to urge him look at me.

“I couldn’t lose you again,” I whisper as I curl up against him.

He leans into my hold and breathes the simplest response, “You won’t.”

His promises all seem so bittersweet; they could be my total undoing.





CHAPTER NINE


My father’s arranged a ball to celebrate my twenty-fourth birthday. It’s fit for a queen, but I feel out of place. People have come and gone and I keep a smile on my face, remain well-mannered, but I feel so distant to all of this and it’s all because of my father. He’s barely spoken to me since the night he presented me with my own death sentence. And I’ve hardly tried to put in the effort.

Even though I have my new plan with Zane, one that will enable us to live a moment of our love story for a little while longer, I still cannot bear to face him, to speak to him, to ask for his approval. So I haven’t. I didn’t face my responsibilities, and I made sure I didn’t sit with him at meal times. I ate on my own in the days up to my birthday, and when I woke up this morning, only Enzo, Carlo, and Manuel were around to shower me in gifts.

Giovanni was out with our father, and I was pleased for it. Ever since getting back from spending my night with Zane, allowing him to ignite that flame we once had, Giovanni has been on my back about it. He knew, the moment I walked back into the house, where I had been and what I have been up to, but I have successfully kept out of his way.

Until now. He’s standing before me in the games room, eyes shooting daggers into me.

“I bet you fucked him, didn’t you?” Giovanni ambushes me once more with that wild accusation. However true, I still refuse to answer. My silence forces his body to fly directly into mine, and I’m sent back until I hit a side dresser in the grand room. I don’t get chance to respond. It’s clearly written all over my face and has been for days. “You’re nothing but a whore, Amelia. You want all the male attention possible. Have you seen yourself out there?” He’s crazed now, throwing allegations around. I’m just trying to be what our father requested I be – desirable. It might be my birthday, but I have to be utter perfection and fawn over the men to keep them happy.

Apparently, my avoidance of him could only work for so fucking long.

“You’re fucking insane,” I cuss at him and push him away but his stance is too heavy, and he doesn’t budge.

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