I closed the door and skipped steps on the stairs to get to the second level. The guest room they’d taken Dante to was made up of a queen-sized sleigh bed, a small sitting area, a bathroom, but no balcony.
Dante was sprawled across the bed on his back. Luc tugged off his shoes, and he and Marco maneuvered Dante until he was vertical on the bed and under at least the top comforter. Felicity rushed past me into the room with several towels, which Luc took from her, and a bucket, which she set on the floor closest to Dante. “What did you give him?”
“Haloperidol,” Marco answered her.
“How much?”
“Ten milligrams. He was pretty bad, so if he wakes in an hour or so, we may need to give him more.”
Felicity and Marco exchanged glances, then she said, “Come with me so we can get more supplies. You can update me on the way.”
They disappeared out the door, and when they were gone, I looked toward Luc, standing at the end of the bed, holding the towels, staring at Dante as if no one else was in the room.
He was still wearing the expensive slacks he’d worn last night for our wedding and the white dress shirt I’d stripped from his strong shoulders in that tent. But now the slacks were covered in mud and dirt, and his shirt, rolled up to his elbows and open at his chest, was stained with what I was afraid might be blood.
I swallowed hard and stepped up next to him, carefully touching his forearm. “Hey. Are you oka—”
He dropped the towels, turned into me in one swift motion, and wrapped his arms tight around my back. Then he lowered his face into my hair in a way that made my heart race with fear.
I wasn’t sure what had happened. I wasn’t sure what was wrong with Dante. I didn’t ask. I just slipped my arms around his shoulders and sifted my fingers into his hair, gently stroking the soft locks as he trembled against me, being that strength Felicity said he might need.
His arms tightened around me, and against my neck where his face was pressed, I felt something warm and wet. Something I realized was tears.
I’d never seen Luc cry, and that scared me even more. He hadn’t cried when he’d confessed about his past and Vittoria. He hadn’t cried when I’d left his bed on his island. He hadn’t cried when I’d told him I couldn’t stay with him any longer and he’d finally let me go. Yes, his eyes had been damp when I’d asked him to marry me on that dock, but those had been happy emotions. This, though...
This was different. This was something that chilled me to my bones because it had shaken my strong, commanding, take-charge man right to his core. And I had no idea what that meant.
“I’m here,” I whispered, unsure of what to say, only wanting him to know he wasn’t alone. “I’m right here. We’re safe. We’re together.” I turned my face, pressing my lips against his cheek, his temple, whatever I could reach. “Everything’s going to be okay now.”
“No.” His voice was muffled as he shook his head against me, the sound sending my pulse even higher. “It won’t be. This is all my fault.”
“No, it isn’t.” I wouldn’t let him blame himself for Dante’s mistakes. “This isn’t about you. It’s—”
“It is.” He pushed back and looked down at me, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. And filled with so much agony, I ached to console him. “They did this because of me. They killed her to make a point to me.”
I didn’t understand what he was saying. And I was suddenly terrified of what he was implying. “Killed who, Luc? What point?”
Pain swept over his weary features, and he closed his eyes, then slowly stepped back and dropped onto the couch in the small sitting area.
“Maricella.” He rested his elbows on his dirty slacks and dropped his forehead into his hands. “They killed her, and they made it look like a car accident. But I know it wasn’t. They did it as a warning to me.”
I knelt on the ground in front of him and placed my suddenly shaking hands on his legs, desperate to touch him, to do anything to take that haunted sound from his voice. “Why? I don’t understand. What does Maricella have to do with you? I’m trying to understand, Luc, but—”
He met my gaze. “She was pregnant, Natalie. When Dante found out, he asked for permission to marry her. My father said no. That’s why Dante left. He moved Maricella to a flat in Rome. My father discovered where they were staying, and he had his goons grab Maricella from the flat when Dante was out looking for work.”
“Oh my God.” I sank back on my heels, keeping my hands on Luc’s knees, though, knowing he needed my touch.
“Dante went nuts when he realized what had happened. That’s why he went after our father.”
Sickness rolled in my stomach. “I understand.”
“No. You don’t.” Pain swirled in Luc’s eyes as they held mine. Pain and so much regret, it nearly stole my breath. “Dante didn’t just go after our father because his men took Maricella. He went after him because he ordered Maricella’s abduction knowing full well that Dante had already married her. In secret. Legally and officially. Their marriage documents were even signed by the bishop. Natalie, he was in love with her, and he married her exactly the same way I married you.”
The ramifications of what he was saying pierced my consciousness and shot my heart rate into the stratosphere. Slowly, my hand slid from Luc’s legs and drifted to my lap as I stared at him.
“B-but a minute ago, you said she died in some kind of car accident. How can you be sur—”
“They set it up. I don’t know how. I’m guessing either they drugged her after they released her or cut her brake lines or something. Whatever they did, it’ll be covered up by the local police because they’re all under House Salvatici control. But I know they murdered her. I know because I saw the death rune on her arm.”
He was talking quickly about things I didn’t understand. “What is a death rune?”
“It’s a marking. Symbols are big to the Entente. A death rune is an upside down Y with an extra leg in the middle. Basically, it’s the peace sign without the circle. Only, in this case, they added the circle so the local police would assume she’d just gotten a new tattoo. But I know what it was. And I know I was meant to see it.”
“Why?” I whispered, my gaze searching his face. “Why you?”
“Because they want me to know they’re pissed I married you without their consent.” His eyes slid closed, and he leaned back against the couch. “I blew off a meeting with my father last night. He wanted to discuss you and our marriage with the Grande Cavaliere. I told him I was busy. I didn’t want to leave you on our wedding night. I thought I could do it today. I thought—”
“Look at me.” Pushing up, I knelt between his legs and slid my fingers across his jaw. “Just because you didn’t meet with them doesn’t mean what happened to Maricella is your fault.”
Agony swirled in his eyes when they met mine. “But—”
“But nothing. You’re not responsible for their actions.”
His eyes filled with tears, and he blinked quickly as he stared at me, fighting not to let them fall. “You shouldn’t have come back,” he whispered. “You should have left me and gotten as far from this nightmare as you could.”