“I love you,” I whispered as we reached the top step.
He stopped and looked down at me, and it was then I saw the stress churning in his tempestuous gaze. He squeezed my hand. “I love you too.”
He didn’t say anything more. Didn’t pull me in for an embrace or any kind of reassurance that everything would be okay. He just moved into the ancient castle I’d vowed never to step foot in again and tugged me after him.
We both drew to an abrupt stop, and my eyes widened when I spotted Luc’s father, the Grand Duke of House Salvatici, standing in the middle of the massive entryway with his arms folded across his broad chest and a bitter disgust brewing in the depths of his gray eyes.
Eyes that were an exact carbon copy of Luc’s and knew my greatest sin.
2
Luc
I’d hated my father for years. But as I stood in the entryway of my childhood home and stared at the man, I knew the hatred I’d felt before was nothing compared to the vile revulsion churning inside me now.
Not because of what he’d let the Grande Cavaliere do to me. Not even because he’d approved it. I could handle anything he did to me. I detested him because he’d made Natalie watch. And in that moment, as the rage snapped and swirled inside me, I knew I was going to kill him. I wasn’t sure when, I wasn’t sure how, but one day soon, my face would be the last thing he saw before the life faded from his eyes. And when it did, I wouldn’t feel a single thing except restitution.
“I see you’ve finally returned,” my father sneered, as if I was nothing but a lowly peasant. “Scotland clearly wasn’t good to you.” He cast one lingering look at Natalie but didn’t acknowledge her as he turned. “Dinner’s waiting.”
Fuck that. “We’re not staying for dinner. We’re only here to see Dante.”
My father swiveled around and pinned me with an icy stare. “Dante? That stronzo hasn’t shown his cowardly face in weeks.”
At my side, Natalie tensed, and her palm grew sweaty as she tried to pull me back, but I held my ground and narrowed my eyes on my father. “What do you mean? Dante isn’t here?”
“Did that beating damage your ears? No, he’s not here. If he were here, I’d take a flogger to him myself.”
My shoulders grew so tight, I was afraid my jacket might bust it’s seams. A rolling rage threatened to consume me. “Figlio di puttana Giovanni.” Grasping Natalie’s hand more tightly, I turned away from my father.
“I don’t know what you’re muttering over there, and I’m not interested in finding out. We have business to discuss over dinner.” He turned for the dining room. “The rest of the family is waiting.”
Two things hit me at once. Giovanni wasn’t the one who’d come up with that lie. My father had. And he’d sent Giovanni to Scotland with that message because he’d know it was the only way to get me back.
“Porca puttana,” I whispered, trying to control the fury inside me that was straining to break free.
“Luc...” Natalie stepped in my way, preventing me from getting back to the door and escaping this fucked-up place. She lifted one hand to my chest. “Maybe we should stay.”
“For what?”
“Dinner.” She must have seen the horror in my eyes because she pushed against my chest, preventing me from getting by her. “It’s just dinner, Luc.”
I couldn’t believe she’d want to be in the same room with these people, let alone have a meal with them.
Before I could tug my hand from hers and say that, footsteps sounded at my back, followed by an excited voice I recognized well.
My sister Ariana screamed, “Luc! Natalie!” And threw herself at both of us. Her long dark hair with that one strip of white near her temple whipped across my face. In an instant, she was hugging us both and talking nonstop about how much she’d missed us.
Natalie peered up at me as Ariana’s voice continued to fill the entryway, and in her soft blue eyes, I could hear what she was trying to tell me even without words.
Ariana had no idea what my parents had done to either one of us. She was the only good person in this entire family, and if I stormed out now, she’d realize something bad had happened.
At twenty-two, she was young and innocent, but just as stubborn and headstrong as Natalie. She’d dig until she found the truth, and then she wouldn’t just know the horrors of our House, she could possibly put herself in danger because she’d learned too much.
I clenched my jaw until I was sure the bone might break. I didn’t want to stay. I didn’t want to have anything to do with my parents or Giovanni. But I couldn’t put Ariana at risk.
Ariana finally released us and looked up at me with dark, excited eyes. “You’re staying for dinner, aren’t you?“
Natalie gazed up at me and mouthed the word Please.
I pursued my lips into a frown as I met her gaze and said, “I guess so.”
“Oh good!” Ariana literally jumped for joy. Grabbing my hand, she tugged me toward the dining room. “I want to hear all about your honeymoon in Scotland, I bet you had a blast.”
I glanced back at Natalie, who followed us in her sleeveless red blouse, black slacks, and heels, clutching the sweater to her chest. She looked relieved I wasn’t making waves right off the bat, but there was something else in her eyes. A mixture of contempt and some hidden emotion I couldn’t read.
I knew she was anxious and didn’t want to be here any more than I did, but that undefined emotion set me on edge.
Because I suddenly had the strangest feeling she was keeping something from me. And somewhere in the back of my head, I was afraid whatever she was hiding was going to pale in comparison to what we’d already been through.
Dinner was torture. Not thirteen-lashes-with-a-barbed-leather-flogger torture, but not a whole lot better.
By the time the last course was swept away, I was ready to overturn the table and stab every single person—including my wife seated across from me—with a dinner knife.
Natalie laughed at something my father said, then smiled and muttered “thank you” as Rosabel, the Salvatici family cook since I’d been a boy, set a cappuccino in front of her. As Rosabel headed back to the kitchen, Natalie looked at my mother at the end of the table and said, “Dinner was wonderful, Mrs. Salvatici.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” my mother answered with a lift of her chin as if she’d had any hand in preparing the meal. “When Giovanni informed us of your return, Ariana insisted we make it a feast.”
“Well, it was perfect. Much better than the food we had in Scotland.” She lifted her cappuccino to her lips and glanced my way over the rim of the cup. “Wouldn’t you agree, Luc?”
I narrowed my eyes on my wife, wondering just what in the hell she was doing. She’d been chipper and downright pleasant all evening, laughing at my father’s jokes, flattering my mother, even almost flirting with Giovanni. Even though Gio had brought a kitten I was sure he was playing with beneath the table, I’d seen the lusty looks he kept shooting Natalie’s way, and I wanted to pummel him for each one. But Natalie didn’t even seem to care—even knowing he’d drugged and planned to rape her in New York. Even knowing he’d probably murdered her friend.