Page 35 of Beautiful Torment (Empire of Kings #1)

ABELLA

I can’t seem to drag my eyes away from Matteo’s lifeless body. A river of blood carves a path from the gaping wound in his chest, soaking his shirt and the ground beneath him. The steady drip splashing against the stone will haunt me forever.

He was beaten badly. So much so that if I hadn’t known him my whole life, I might not recognize him at all.

His eyes are swollen and bruised, his nose bent and crusted with blood.

A fabric gag bulges from his mouth from behind the duct tape that’s tightly woven around his head.

One of his shoulders looks as if it’s been dislocated.

He was brutalized because of me .

A gut-wrenching sob catches in my throat, and I cover my mouth, horrified by this turn of events. This was entirely preventable had I not agreed to his arrangement in the first place. He was trying to protect me, and because I let him, he’s dead.

My eyes burn, and everything hurts. But I swipe the tears away just as fast as they come.

Lock them down, put them away .

Emotions are a weakness, and I don’t deserve to feel sorry for myself right now.

Matteo is dead.

I get dressed and search the table for something to clean myself with. There’s no water, so I settle on champagne. My fingers tremble as I pop the cork, and I nearly choke on the fizz when I bring the bottle to my lips. I gulp down enough to numb myself before I splash the rest on my face.

It’s not the best idea. Champagne is sticky, and it doesn’t do much to wash away the blood staining my skin. But then again, I’m not sure anything can.

How could Angelo do this? How could he kill his own brother?

Maybe I was na?ve to believe his ruthless reputation wouldn’t extend to his own family. He’s always been dangerous, but never this cold.

He made Matteo watch as he inked his mark into my skin and fucked me. As I rewind it back, I can see that it was all for show. Putting me on display, making me beg, making me come, and then the worst part...He made me admit that I would choose his life over Matteo’s.

God, I am so stupid.

Of course, Angelo hasn’t forgiven me. His hatred for me burns hotter than the fires of hell, and he’s made that very clear. Now I have to go back to the island with him and live out the rest of my days as a hostage of his vengeance.

I already know how that story will end. When he discovers the truth, he won’t have an ounce of mercy to spare for my feelings.

I stare out over the cliff’s edge, considering the certain heartbreak to come. Is this what my mother felt before she plummeted to her death?

The sound of the portcullis opening has me straightening and wiping my face. I’m a mess of mascara, blood, and champagne. Just how every girl imagines her wedding night.

“You decent?” Nicky calls out from the other side of the wall.

“Yes.”

He enters and grimaces at my face, confirming my thoughts.

“There’s only champagne and wine.” I gesture at the table. “I can’t clean myself up.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “You can do that later.”

I don’t ask where we’re going as he takes my bag, and I follow him through the castle wall.

On the other side, Angelo waits with the robed men, who have all lined up to see us off.

When he notices I’ve been crying, his eyes flash with irritation.

I’m sure he’d rather I didn’t shed a tear for Matteo.

Of course, none of the other men lift a brow at my appearance.

I join my husband with all the enthusiasm of a sheep being led to slaughter. The Society must have sanctioned Matteo’s murder, or else Angelo wouldn’t have been so obvious about it. The question is why?

One of the witnesses steps forward and bows his head. “We’ll send word to the Tribunal and have your gifts shipped to the island.”

Angelo nods, and we turn to leave. As we go, their haunting final words ring out behind us.

“Long live the newlyweds.”

I don’t remember much of the walk back to the car or the ride to Rome thereafter. I sink into the seat and stare out the window, not really seeing a thing. Bocelli’s music fills the gaps in time, and I know from this day on I will always associate it with this moment.

I’m numb and exhausted by the time we reach the port. Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised, but part of me expected that he’d have us on a flight home just as soon as he could. Maybe he plans to dump me overboard instead. Except, if he wanted to, he would have done that a long time ago.

Before we board, Angelo stops to greet a small army of men waiting for us. Ten, to be precise.

“These are your guards.” He delivers this news in a detached tone.

I stare at them in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

Angelo drags his inked fingers over the hard line of his jaw and glances at his men. “I need a word with my wife.”

At his command, all his men scatter—furthering the evidence of the power he has over everyone in his life, including me.

Once we’re alone, he closes the distance between us, tipping my chin up so I have to meet his gaze.

“Learn to pick your battles now, cara . This isn’t a point I will compromise on. You’ll have five men on your detail at all times.”

“But why?” I ask. “It’s not necessary.”

“You’re a Vitale now,” he says. “That means every enemy of mine is an enemy of yours. And in case you forgot, you were bought and paid for with Vitale money. One million dollars, to be exact. You should know I expect a return on all my investments.”

Those words land just as he intended—cold, precise, and brutal.

Now, it makes sense. Angelo knew he’d never pry that money back from my father. The contract was signed. Our marriage is a matter of numbers on a ledger with the added benefit of revenge on the side.

His gaze cuts over the water as he releases me. “Trust is a luxury you’ve already lost. Don’t test my tolerance for betrayal again.”

My eyes move over his face, searching for a glimpse of the man I used to know. The one I mortally wounded. But there’s no trace of him anymore.

“You have more money than you could ever spend in a thousand lifetimes,” I choke out. “Is a million dollars really worth being miserable with someone you hate?”

“Karma is a funny thing,” he says. “You wanted me in prison, and now this marriage is yours. Except, in your case, you’ll have a life sentence.”

An uneasy feeling grabs me by the throat and doesn’t let go. Does he truly believe I had something to do with his prison sentence?

“Angelo—”

“Let me be clear.” He pins me with his cold gaze. “This mutually beneficial arrangement will keep us both alive. You can despise me all you want, but you’ll do it from my bed.”

“So what?” I scoff. “You’re going to hate fuck me every night until you get me pregnant? Is that it?”

A mask of indifference settles over his face, and he shrugs.

“As it turns out, I am a curable romantic. Don’t mistake me for the man you once knew, Abella.

I’ll have no problem hate-fucking you until my goal is achieved.

Once a reasonable amount of time has passed, we can have more children until we’ve produced a sizable family.

After that, I’ll take my pleasure elsewhere if that’s what you prefer.

But you should know that you’ll never have that option. For you, it’s me or nothing.”

A hollow ache pulses in my chest as I imagine the bleak future he just painted for us. It’s no different than any other marriage in our world, but I know I won’t survive it. I need more.

“And if I say no?” I ask.

Tension winds its way through the muscles in his neck. “You may be foolish, but I know you aren’t stupid. You know what’s at stake here. Do you really want to start a war over your precious feelings for a dead man?”

I swallow my argument because he’s right. The reason I ended up in this mess in the first place was to avoid a war. If Matteo had been here with me tonight, I wouldn’t have asked for anything more than a business arrangement between us. But Matteo didn’t have the power to destroy me.

Angelo always has.

Beneath that barbed wire exterior, I have to believe there’s still a part of him that feels. He’s lost his mother, his father, and now his brother. His anger is justified, but what he describes is a fate worse than death.

“You should have just killed me too,” I whisper, silent tears streaking down my face.

“Come now, Abella.” His thumb grazes my cheek. “Do you think I’d let you off that easy?”

“What you describe isn’t a marriage.”

“No, it’s not.” He brushes my tears away. “It’s penance. You can accept it, or we go to war. Those are your options.”

My eyes fall shut on a ragged exhalation. I’m exhausted, sad, and slightly drunk. But I know there is a third option, if I really wanted to consider it. The truth could set me free.

Except, if I had any sense, I would have told him before I took my vows.

What can be done about it now? It would only blow another shotgun-sized hole through both of us.

We have enough of those already. The reality is, when I saw him standing at the end of the aisle, I was too selfish to do the right thing.

I didn’t want him to set me free. Not when it took everything I had in me to walk away the first time.

Logically, I know there’s only one way out of this. I can’t stay. But I can’t bring myself to leave just yet either. I need more time before I implode my entire life.

In the meantime, I’ll have to guard my heart.

Against my better judgment, I find myself nodding my concession. I’ll give it a month.

Thirty days of penance.

“Use your words.” There’s an edge of irritation in his tone that makes me open my eyes.

When I look up at him, his entire body has gone rigid. Angelo isn’t a man who has to wait for responses. But I don’t think that’s what this is.

Or maybe I really am just a fool.

“Yes,” I answer. “I agree.”

“Good.” A shallow breath leaves him. “I’ll give you a few days to cry about my spineless prick of a brother. Then I never want to hear his name from your lips again.”