Page 68 of Ice & Steel

I sat there, stunned. My hands palm up in my lap. Lucien had gutted the Romano mansion and made it mine, even building a room modeled after Viktor’s house in Russia. I’d spent so many nights wandering through the quiet, dark halls of that mansion, evenings dancing with Lucien in the ballroom, and mornings drinking coffee in the kitchen.

It felt like a member of my family was gone.

“Is it destroyed?” Lucien said coolly.

Viktor nodded. “They burned it a week after you fled and Riccardo Mezzasalma built on the grounds. He lives there now, in a modern build on the same spot.”

My heart ached and the world felt small and suffocating. I’d spent so many nights over the last year thinking about my home across the ocean. Imagining returning home and carrying the twins up the drive. Watching the boys run into the garden.

Finally being home despite all the mixed feelings surrounding our return.

Now there was nothing.

My throat was tight and my fingers shook as I lifted my glass. The wine was cool and crisp, but it did nothing to help pull me together. Tears pushed out and one slid down my cheek, hanging on my jaw.

Lucien noticed right away. He leaned in to shield me from the rest of the table with his broad shoulders.

“Darling, do you need to go upstairs?” he said quietly.

I nodded once, pushing back from the table, and fled from the dining room. Lucien’s chair scraped the floor and his footfalls followed me as I ran up the stairs and slipped into our bedroom.

His arms came around me, pulling my back against his chest. His mouth pressed to the top of my head.

A sob burst from my throat.

“They burnt our house, Lucien,” I choked out, my head falling back. “I don’t have a home to go back to.”

His arms flexed, holding me tightly. “Swear to God, Liv, I will win this. You’ll have a home if I have to build it brick by brick with my bare hands. Just trust me.”

“I do trust you,” I wept. “I do…it’s just so fucking hard.”

He held me while I cried and then he washed my face with a cool washcloth. I sat on the edge of the sink with my feet hanging miserably. Fingers a tight knot in my lap.

“You don’t have to come down,” he said. “Viktor, Cosimo, and I will have a meeting in the dining room. We have a lot to talk about. Why don’t you wash up and stay with the boys until Viktor leaves. Alright?”

“Yeah.” I ran my hand under my nose and nodded.

He kissed my forehead. “Good girl.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

LUCIEN

After our meeting, Viktor and I stood on the beach and talked for another hour. Then Cosimo took him back to the mainland and I made my way slowly through the garden to the house. Loitering so I could gather my thoughts before speaking with Olivia.

I knew it was time.

We’d waited in exile for three hundred and forty-seven days. There was a difference between waiting for the opportune moment and allowing myself to go down in history as a failed king.

If I was going to make my move, I needed to strike while the iron was hot.

Tomorrow, at daybreak, I’d send word to the others and take Viktor’s plane to the city. Then, alone, I’d watch my enemy from up close. Learn his habits, his weaknesses, his movements, where he ate and drank, who he fucked. Every man had a weakness and, just as he had found mine, I would locate his softest point and dig my fingers in until I felt bone.

Until I felt his fucking heart beating beneath my fingers.

Rage flickered. Concealed behind the steel cage of my ribs. This man had threatened Olivia, he’d made her weep. He’d taken my home. He’d driven me into exile like a failed tyrant.

I would take his heart out and bring it to my wife on a plate.