Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
His expression remains unbothered, but when he adjusts his watch, I don’t miss the rigid set of his fingers.
“I do think you’ll be a worthy adversary,” he responds. “But on this matter, you’ve missed the mark. I would sooner die than court a woman bearing the Vitale name.”
“A problem easily solved with a marriage contract.” I smile sweetly. “If you could ever manage to get on your knees and beg for a blessing from the Vitale brothers.”
His lip tips up at the corner as Persephone scoffs.
“You really are delusional. My brother would never.”
I shrug. Ares won’t admit it, but I feel like I’ve chipped away a piece of his armor.
“As fun as this verbal tennis match has been, I have things to do. So let’s get to the point where you tell me what you want.”
Ares offers me a wolfish grin. “I told you, I require your services.”
I roll my eyes. The man is an incurable flirt. But beneath that charming mask, I’ve often wondered what it is he’s hiding.
“Are you willing to start a war for some new clothing?” I ask.
“I suppose it’s a possibility,” he muses. “Your husband-to-be does have quite the reputation at the Cat House. I hear he gets his jollies by playing around with an escort who looks strikingly similar to you. Is he the one who left that mark on your face?”
I blanch at his observation. It isn’t the fact that Matteo visits the Cat House that bothers me, but rather his lack of discretion. Ares can only be telling me this for one of two reasons. He wants to see my reaction for himself, or he wants to create a divide in my impending marriage. After all, a hostile wife is less likely to help her husband fulfill his marital needs or the conditions of the treaty.
Refusing to give him what he wants, I grab the notepad from my desk, knowing as I ask, I’ll probably regret this.
“Why don’t we start by telling me what you need?”
He swivels in my chair, adjusting the height in what I’m certain is a bid to annoy me. “Straight to business, are we?”
“I could only hope to be so unbothered by my future husband screwing around on me,” Persephone quips.
“It’s a rare trait in a woman,” Ares agrees. “But perhaps it would bother her more if it were the other brother doing it. You know, the one she was engaged to before.”
My stomach revolts at the very idea of Angelo spending time at the Cat House, and I can’t hide my visceral reaction, no matter how much I try.
“Ah, yes, there it is.” Ares chuckles. “What a strange little love triangle you’ve been caught up in.”
I inhale a fortifying breath and do what I do best, numbing my feelings so I can redirect my focus.
“If you want me to shop for you, I’ll need your measurements.”
“Later.” He sighs as if I’ve just ruined his fun. “We’ll meet after your wedding. I have a feeling we’ll be in for a spectacular show.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat?”
He snorts. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.”
“You have every reason to,” I say.
“Perhaps, but then I wouldn’t get the answer to the burning question we’ve all had for the past six years.”
“And what is that?”
“You’ve had ample time to marry Matteo and fulfill the obligations of the treaty, but something held you back. Rumors abound, and I must confess, I’ve hedged my bet on what it might be.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear you’ve wasted your time,” I deflect. “If I had room to spare, I’d invite you to the wedding so you could see for yourself.”
“Oh, but I already have an invite,” he says. “In fact, I’ll have a front row seat.”
Alarm skitters over me, but I stay calm. “I very much doubt it.”
“Guess we’ll see, won’t we?” He shrugs. “I have a feeling the night will be full of surprises.”
When he rises from his seat, he nods at Persephone, something passing between them. She reaches into her pocket and ambles over to me, holding out her hand.
“You really should be more careful,” she tells me. “You never know who might be watching…or listening.”
I’m caught off guard when she drops the crushed pieces of a camera and a listening device into my palm.
“Where did you find these?”
“I think the more important question”—she drawls—“is who’s been keeping such a close eye on you?”
11
ANGELO
“Adjust your camera,” I tell Nicky. “I’m not talking to your fucking forehead.”
There’s some shuffling on screen before he reappears in frame. “That better?”
I nod and scan the list he sent over, marking off two additional changes. “You getting a handle on all this?”
“Yeah,” he mutters. “They’re all willing to accommodate your requests. I’ll send the details to the coordinator tonight.”
I don’t like his tone or the fact that he’s been giving me half-assed responses all day. It’s eaten away at my goddamned patience, and if it were anyone else, I’d be questioning their loyalty. But Nicky isn’t disloyal. He’s a fucking toddler when he’s mad.