Page 62 of Beautiful Torment (Empire of Kings #1)

ABELLA

“ I f it isn’t the Vitale queen, positively glowing with marital bliss.” Ares strolls into my office during my lunch break, his gaze roaming over me before it fixes on my abdomen. “Anything exciting to share yet?”

“Have you ever heard of making an appointment?” I glower at him.

“I’m a Stavros, Abella,” he says. “I don’t make appointments. I show up and tell people what I want, and they give it to me.”

“How nice for you.” I roll my eyes. “And what is it you want from me?”

“Measurements.” He smirks as he gestures to his trousers. “Do you prefer flaccid or erect?”

“You’re hilarious.” I toss the wrapper from my protein bar in the trash and wipe my hands. “Do you want my husband to murder you?”

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Ares answers smugly. “He’s out gallivanting around with his boy Friday right now. What’s his name, Andrew? I take it that was your doing?”

I ignore him and grab my measuring tape while he carries on.

“Poor Genevieve. Whose dick will she chase now?”

“Maybe you should give it a shot,” I answer dryly.

He shudders. “God, no. Stage five clinger that one. I’d rather put my balls in a wood chipper.”

“As much as it thrills me to imagine that, I have a schedule to keep,” I tell him. “You still haven’t told me what it is you need.”

“Well, dear Abella, I’m going to give you the pleasure of dressing me for the masquerade ball.”

“What an honor. How will I ever contain my excitement?”

“I bet your husband just loves that mouth of yours,” he says.

“He does, actually.” I grab my notepad and tuck it beneath one arm and get to work, measuring his chest, shoulders, and sleeve length, pausing to jot down the numbers as he watches me.

I’ve known Ares my whole life, and beneath all the sarcasm and deflection, I know he’s capable of being a decent man when he wants to be. But he’s also Angelo’s mortal enemy, and by default, that makes him mine too.

I should have turned him away, but the truth is that something has been lingering in my thoughts since our last visit. A question I shouldn’t ask—or even entertain. But Ares can already see the desperation working its way through me.

“What could be weighing on that pretty little mind of yours?” he ponders as I measure his hips and waist. “You look like you have the whole world on your shoulders. But then again…I suppose you do.”

I tell myself I can’t indulge this idea.

It’s the worst possible thing I could do, and if Angelo ever finds out, he would see it as another betrayal.

But as I sink to my knees in front of Ares to measure his inseam and thigh circumference, the painful alternative hits me all over again.

The question spills from my lips before I can stop myself.

“Would you ever consider renegotiating the terms of the treaty?”

A flicker of remorse flashes in Ares’ gaze, and it feels as genuine as anything ever has from him. But then he lowers his voice and wakes me up with a reality check.

“Even if I said I would, would it make a difference?”

I close my eyes to hide the sting behind them because he’s right. As much as I want to live in a fantasy, it probably wouldn’t make a difference.

“You know, for once, I didn’t want to be right.” He softens his tone. “Not about this.”

I nod, too choked up to speak, and he lets me have that moment. But it doesn’t last long.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Angelo’s voice snaps me from my heartbreak. When I glance up, he’s taking in the scene before him with so much venom it sends a shiver down my spine. Of all the moments for him to walk in on us, it had to be when I was kneeling in front of Ares with my head bowed.

“Abella.” His dark eyes fall on me. “Come here now.”

Without question, it’s an order, and I obey immediately.

I don’t know why I start crawling toward him, but it feels like taking the extra few seconds to get up might be perilous.

He watches me—the room so silent I can hear my heartbeat thrashing in my ears.

When I reach him, he winds my hair around his fist and pulls my head back.

“You like admiring what I have?” he asks Ares.

Ares snorts, not bothering to glance at me. “Yes, you have quite the little pet there, don’t you? Still needs a little training, though. You never know what they’ll get up to off-leash. If you’re interested, I can give you a few obedience tips. My skills are second to none.”

“Leave,” Angelo grits out. “While you still have a chance.”

Ares winks at me as he walks out of my office without a fight.

Angelo releases my hair and grabs my chin, tilting my gaze up to meet his.

“Are you trying to start a war, Abella?”

“No,” I protest. “He wants a suit for the ball.”

A long, tense silence follows. Rage simmers in his eyes as they move over me, and I expect he might bend me over and fuck me to prove a point. But he doesn’t, and it only leaves me feeling emptier.

“I suppose you’re going to tell me who I can work with now,” I say.

“Do what you want,” he growls. “But the next time I see you anywhere near another man’s cock, I’m going to serve it to you on a platter.”

I shudder at the violence of his words, and I can’t help but feel the loss of his warm fingers as he releases my face.

“The only man you kneel for is me.” He gives me one last searing glance, then leaves me there, alone on the floor.

When the realization of what I’ve done settles over me, my stomach churns.

I just gave Ares Stavros all the ammunition he needs to destroy us.

Angelo left the building shortly after our interaction, sending me a brief text telling me not to wait up for him tonight.

He’s angry, and if he knew what really transpired, he’d probably hate me forever. I don’t know what I was thinking, asking Ares that question. It was a moment of vulnerability, and he was an unlikely beacon of hope. That was until he spoon-fed me the truth I didn’t want to hear.

Would it matter if I did?

Those words rattle around my brain as I sit in my empty office under the guise of working late. Truthfully, all I do is stare at my computer screen and suppress the nausea twisting my gut.

Ares was right. It doesn’t matter. Regardless of the stakes of the treaty and its antiquated requirements, I know what Angelo wants. I know what he deserves. And, like it or not, I can’t give it to him.

I also can’t ask him to give it up.

Maybe if circumstances were different, but they aren’t.

I thought I’d come to terms with this reality a long time ago. I cried, mourned, prayed, and cursed. Then I shifted my focus to what I could control. But Angelo came along and ripped open the old wound and made me want things I could never have all over again.

I told myself I’d give it thirty days before I did the right thing, but that was a joke. I watched that date pass on the calendar and just pretended I didn’t notice. Now I’ve fallen so deep into my delusions of hope I’ve resorted to begging the enemy.

I know at some point soon, I’ll have no choice but to tell Angelo. But for now, I’m going to go home and make up with him while I still have the chance.

I shut down my computer and gather up my things. My guards are waiting for me when I step out into the hall. They’re the same guards who were on duty the night Angelo took me to the Cat House.

The memory of him fucking and claiming me in front of those strangers makes me ache for the intimacy we shared that night.

To be the sole focus of Angelo Vitale’s attention is to truly feel the sun.

I’ve been without his warmth and surviving only on stolen touches.

But I suspect today won’t go unpunished, and a small thrill shoots through me as I consider what he might do.

The journey back to the island is long, and by the time I get to the house, the main rooms are quiet and dark. Everyone has settled into their respective wings for the night.

Once I’m in our suite, I kick off my heels and change into a nightgown. Angelo isn’t home yet, and despite him telling me not to wait up, I know I won’t be able to sleep until he’s here.

Needing to unwind, I pad back to our private kitchen and grab a bottle of Inzolia from the wine fridge. I pour myself a glass and close my eyes when I taste the citrus and almonds. There’s an entire summer at the Vitale vineyard that comes to mind.

Feeling a chill on my skin, I head back to the suite to wrap myself in a blanket. But halfway there, the lights go out, and I freeze.

I stand there, waiting for the backup generator to kick in, but it doesn’t. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, a shiver of awareness crawls over me.

I’m not alone.

A whisper of a breath tickles the hair on my neck just before a cold metal blade caresses my face. The wine glass slips from my hand, shattering on the floor as I turn to look at the towering silhouette behind me.

His body is entirely obscured in black—hoodie, pants, gloves, and a full-face mask I don’t recognize.

He reaches out to grab me, and I jerk away from him, a scream lodging in my throat. Survival takes over, and I’m in motion before my mind can catch up. I bolt down the hall, feet slapping against the floor as his boots echo off the walls around me.

Two opposing thoughts battle in my mind. Angelo’s warning about his enemies and his promise that he’d always be the one to capture me.

I don’t know which scenario I’m in, and there isn’t time to think about it. I’m running on pure adrenaline when I skid into a spare bedroom and slam the door shut behind me.

I lock it, knowing it won’t stop him, but I’m hoping to slow him down.

I head for the window and wrench it open.

This part of the house faces the rear gardens, and it’s not an ideal place to run barefoot.

But it will give me a chance to get to the guard’s quarters if I can put enough distance between us.

That’s my plan—but as soon as I launch myself outside, it derails.

The masked man already jumped out of a different window, and he’s standing there waiting for me.

Shit.