Page 107 of Forsaking All Others

“And Luca?” Lando snorted. “He’s spent most of his life pretending to be Dario, you don’t think he ever wanted to stop playing pretend?”

A chill bit into the base of my back and rattled my spine between its teeth.

“He seems a little too happy to be playing big boss to your sweet snatch,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “Maybe he’s just taking advantage of the opportunity . . . or maybe he created it.”

“If you’re implying he’s a monster, you’re Dr. Frankenstein,” I rebuked in a low growl. “You were the one who created this situation in the first place. Using your own children like pawns on the board.”

“You think this is a game of chess, girl?” His laugh was a sharp cough like a hyena bark. “Chess is a civilized game for gentlemen. This? This is a game of war. You’ll have more than pieces of your husband by the time it’s through.”

“Is that a threat?” I demanded, adrenaline coursing through me. My hand planted on Lando’s chest, and I pushed him against the paneled wood wall with a thud. “Are you threatening my husband?”

“Which one?” he chortled.

“Either of them,” I amended through bared teeth. “You shouldn’t underestimate me, Lando. Sometimes the prettiest things are the most venomous.”

“You think I don’t know that?” he asked, suddenly gruff, his eyes wide and alert as if his inebriation was just a ruse. He scoffed and shoved my hand aside to stalk past me. “You try to do a good thing . . .” he muttered as he went down the stairs.

What the fuck was that?

I didn’t have time to dwell on it because one glance at my gold Cartier Tank Française watch told me it was one minute to seven thirty, and Luca and I were on an exact timeline.

Hastening down the steps, I found my tall, dark, and handsome stranger of a husband leaning against the bottom railing, his head tipped back, hair a mass of wavy black shadow behind it, eyes trained on me.

My steps slowed. I suddenly felt like I was walking through mud, his scrutiny was so intense I couldn’t hide the little shiver that coursed down my spine.

“Principessa mia,” he greeted in a low, intimate voice as he extended his hand toward me.

When I refused to take it, his features turned to stone, and before I could brace, he’d lunged up the stairs and picked me up around the waist, hauling me into the air and into his arms.

Cerberus, who was my constant shadow, didn’t move to protect me at all, instead going directly to his bed to curl up for a nap.

It constantly surprised me that my dog, who was an excellent judge of both character and danger, never seemed to have a problem with either twin brother.

“Dario,” I protested, hating that I was calling him by the wrong name even as I swatted at his head. “Put me down.”

“Come vuoi,” he said, humor rich in his voice as he took the last stair and slowly slid me down the front of his body until I was on my feet but still encircled in the cage of his arms. We stared at each other for a moment where I forgot his name, my name, and even how to breathe.

All I knew was the taste of electricity as it crackled between us.

The static hurt my teeth and made my mouth water.

I saw nothing but the arctic landscape of his gaze, searching for answers in the glacial corridors.

It prompted a memory, a kind of tactile remembrance and certainty I felt beneath my skin.

“It was you,” I breathed. “You were the one who took my virginity, and you fought with Dario about it later that night.”

Shadows crossed the tundra, and his mouth firmed. “Yes. He would not touch you, and I . . .” His frown was fierce, but his lips softened with confusion. “I could not help myself.”

He reached up to push one side of my long curtain bangs away from my face so he could cup my cheek. “I still cannot help myself. Looking at you, it’s like discovering hunger for the first time. I want in a way that aches.”

“Why?” The word escaped on a breath. I was wholly entranced by this brutal man’s sincerity.

“What must it have been like for Pluto to sight Proserpina in the flowering fields from his own dark, lonely place in the underworld?” he murmured, suddenly so close I could feel his lips against my own, and I realized he was feeding the words into my mouth. “An awakening in his soul. A thirst, a hunger he couldn’t ignore until he stole her away for himself.”

“Selfish,” I scolded, but the humor was lost in the moan that escaped my throat when he smiled against the side of my mouth before licking my lower lip.

“Yes,” he agreed easily. “I will always be selfish when it comes to you, but I do not care. You are the one thing I’ve ever wanted for myself.”