Page 72 of Beautiful Torment (Empire of Kings #1)

ABELLA

T he ballroom at the IVI compound in Seattle drips with dark elegance and an air of mystery as guests in masks begin to filter inside.

Overhead, gilded chandeliers cast the room in a golden ambient glow while candles flicker on tables throughout the space. From the stage, a live orchestra plays haunting ballads and dark waltzes for the couples already on the dance floor.

Servers in black tailcoats pass by with trays of moody cocktails in shades of garnet, deep plum, and absinthe green.

Beside me, Angelo’s hand rests at the small of my back as he scans the room. I follow his gaze through the sea of feathers, lace, and jewels, admiring the suits and gowns as they glide over the floor.

In our world, the masquerade ball is social currency.

It’s an opportunity to showcase wealth and influence, but it’s also a night free from the usual societal pressures.

Behind the mask, mysterious and flirtatious interludes thrive.

It isn’t unusual to hear of new romances after the ball—and occasionally, scandalous liaisons.

For the Cosa Nostra , it provides opportunities to disarm their rivals, collect secrets, and plot their next moves from the shadows.

While the men in this room feel secure in their anonymity, I don’t doubt Angelo already knows who is behind which mask.

I can see it in the way his razor-sharp gaze cuts through the crowd and lands on one particular group of men.

He gives his brothers a subtle nod, and they disperse into the horde, carrying out some secret mission.

Alessio and Natalia follow suit, leaving us as he declares his intent to introduce his wife to some associates.

Within moments of stepping foot inside, single men come to ask each of my friends to dance, plucking them off like coveted baubles they’re eager to display.

Angelo and I watch as a tall man in a dark mask spins Mariella around the dance floor, and I know he’s wondering the same thing I am when his fingers stiffen on my back.

Ares never returned for a follow-up appointment, so it’s possible that it could be him in a suit I don’t recognize. However, that question is answered a moment later when a shadowy figure appears beside us as if we summoned him through dark magic.

“It’s a taxing job, isn’t it?” Ares remarks. “Guarding such delicate flowers.”

Angelo turns to face him as I fight a smile. Mariella is as far from delicate as it gets, and he knows it.

“It’s not that taxing,” Angelo answers dryly. “My sister is quite capable of discerning who is worthy of her time and who is not.”

Ares glances at the woman in question. “Yes, well, let them play with boys long enough, and eventually, they’ll realize they need a man.”

“If and when Mariella finds a man, I’ll be the first to let you know,” Angelo tells him. “Only then will I sign off on her marriage contract.”

“How fortunate she is to have such a loyal guard dog.”

As I watch this verbal tennis match, I wonder if Ares even realizes how tightly he’s gripping his glass of whiskey.

“She’s fortunate that she recognizes what she wants.” Angelo’s lip tilts into a smirk. “And she’s not willing to settle for anything less.”

Ares takes a sip of his drink as his gaze moves to me. “It’s funny how circumstances can change. I might have said the same about your wife at one point. You just never know how things might work out.”

With that parting shot, he drifts into the crowd as Angelo glares at his retreating form.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” I say quietly.

“I know.” He grabs me by the hand.

I’m not sure where he’s taking me until he stops in the middle of the dance floor and turns to face me.

He raises our joined hands and slides his other palm to my back, pulling me into a close embrace.

My free hand rests on his shoulder, and I yield to the subtle shift of his body as he draws me into an opening series of steps.

Within a few beats, muscle memory and our shared chemistry carry us into an effortless rhythm as he guides me through a dark waltz.

It feels as though time has rewound ten years and we’re back in the ballroom at the Vitale estate, unable to look away from each other. I was mostly a mass of hormones back then, but it seems little has changed with Angelo’s dark gaze on mine.

He shows me off, adding some dramatic flair with his possessive and not-at-all-gentlemanly hold on me. When the music draws to a close, he eases me back into a shallow dip, surprising me with the softest brush of his lips.

It’s over far too quickly when he pulls me upright and leads me from the dance floor. I still feel dizzy and slightly drugged from that single kiss. All I can seem to think about is when he’ll do it again.

We drift through the crowd, making our way to the other side of the ballroom before we’re intercepted by Gabi.

“I think the whole room stopped just to watch you out there,” she says. “You looked amazing together.”

“Thanks.” I blush. “Are you done dancing?”

“Yes. I need a break. That last guy was insufferable.”

Angelo makes eye contact with one of his brothers across the room, who is giving him a subtle nod.

“Why don’t you and Gabi get a drink,” he whispers in my ear. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“Okay.”

I don’t ask him what he’s getting up to. I learned a long time ago not to poke my nose into Mafia business.

Angelo’s thumb brushes across my knuckles, and he gives my hand one last squeeze before he leaves to join his brother. Gabi and I head to the bar, and she orders us two Shirley Temples.

“You want to inadvertently wander into the whisper gallery?” she asks once we have our drinks.

“Sure.” I shrug.

It wouldn’t be a ball without a little gossip.

We weave our way through the crowd, where a large group of women has gathered.

Slowing our steps, we catch fragments of the chatter around us.

It seems tonight has already been eventful, with an argument between several men on the terrace and a kerfuffle in the gambling den.

We find an empty table and lurk there for a few moments before I recognize one of the voices at the table beside us. A quick glance confirms the blonde must be Genevieve, and she’s surrounded by a small group of women hanging on her every word.

“Angelo has a list of suitable replacements in his filing cabinet,” Genevieve tells them. “If she doesn’t conceive within the first six months, he’ll move on to the next one.”

“How long have they been married now?”

“Four months,” Genevieve answers smugly. “Mark my words, she’ll be gone in no time.”

“I can’t believe he even took her back,” one of the other women replies. “What a disgrace.”

“Abella,” Gabi whispers, tugging on my arm. “Let’s go.”

I let her drag me away as a fog of numbness settles over me. Gabi leads me across the ballroom and through the stairwell door before she pauses to make sure we’re alone.

“Do you think it’s true?” Her voice cracks.

Gabi is soft-hearted, but she’s not immune to the realities of our world.

The fact that she’s asking me means she isn’t sure either.

I don’t want to believe Angelo would do that, but realistically, it’s a consideration I have to take into account.

This marriage was never about love. Angelo may have wanted me, but it doesn’t change what’s required of him.

“I don’t know,” I confess, my voice raw with pain.

Gabi blinks back tears as she searches my gaze. “What can I do to help? You want me to break into his office? Because I will.”

I wipe the moisture from the edges of my eyes and shake my head.

The truth is, it doesn’t matter if there’s a list, and if there is, I don’t want to know.

This marriage was doomed from the beginning, and I’ve known for a while now that our time together was coming to an end.

This is the reminder that I have to let him go.

Not just for him, but for me. If I stay, it will destroy us both.

“Abella?”

Gabi’s anguish draws my attention back to her, and when I look at her face, I don’t have to say anything. She knows what I’m going to do.

“There’s a lot you haven’t told me,” she says softly. “Isn’t there?”

I nod, and we both fall quiet as we come to terms with my decision.

The founding members of Aegis live by a code, too.

And within that code, we have a failsafe that grants us power and strength in numbers.

None of us have ever invoked it before, but I know when I do, they’ll show up—no questions asked.

“When?” Gabi asks, trying her best to hide her heartbreak.

“Tonight.”

It has to be tonight. Before I lose my courage.

She gives me a resigned nod, and we gather ourselves, returning to the ball as if nothing has changed.

Angelo finds us a few minutes later, his gaze lingering on me as he picks up the subtle shift in energy. I go through the motions, wearing a mask of normalcy as his associates come to exchange pleasantries with us.

After another hour passes, Angelo leans in to whisper in my ear.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes.” I smile. “Just a little tired. Can we go?”

His lips brush my cheek as he nods. “I thought you’d never ask.”