Page 28 of Intrigue

“Of course.” I end the call, pouring myself whiskey.

The amber liquid burns less than the guilt trying to surface. I didn’t expect her return to complicate things. The Moretti alliance was supposed to be my key to power, now it’s my weapon to win her. To keep her.

My phone buzzes one last time. Selene again.

Did you really get attacked or was this another of your tricks?

Smart girl. I consider lying, but she deserves better.

Does it matter? You still took care of me and came all over my dick.

Her response is immediate:I hate you.

No. You hate that you want me.

She goes silent again. I finish my drink, satisfaction warming my veins. The wound throbs in time with my pulse, a reminder of what I’ll sacrifice to possess her completely.

Let the Moretti crew rage. Let the Don trust me. Let Cassian play house with what’s mine. I’ll burn it all down to claim her, piece by bloody piece.

I touch the bandage, feeling Selene’s phantom fingers there instead. Soon, she’ll understand that some obsessions are worth destroying everything for.

Chapter 9

Selene

Ten years ago.

The compound is too quiet tonight.

I should be in my room, pretending to be the obedient daughter Don Marconi expects me to be. But I’m not. Instead, I’m outside, in the dimly lit courtyard behind the estate, gallivanting by the ivy-covered walls.

Waiting.

I tell myself I’m out here because I can’t sleep, because the house feels suffocating, because I need air. But I know better.

I’m waiting for him.

Ever since Alessandro Vescovi walked into my father’s house three weeks ago, everything has felt different.

Not that I’ll admit it.

I don’t like him, not really. He’s cocky, infuriatingly calm, and has this way of looking at me like he already knows my secrets before I do. I should hate him for it.

But I don’t.

I can’t.

Not when he’s the only person in this godforsaken house who doesn’t treat me like a delicate little thing meant to be hidden away and paraded when convenient. Not when I catch him watching me when he thinks I’m not looking, those cold, assessing eyes of his heating my skin in ways I don’t want to think about.

And definitely not when I hear the gravel crunch softly behind me, followed by his deep voice, so smooth and laced with something I can’t name.

“You’re going to get caught one of these days, little Marconi.”

I don’t turn.

Instead, I exhale, slowly, like I wasn’t just shivering at the sound of his voice. “And you’re going to get yourself killed one of these days, Vescovi.”

A quiet chuckle. “Probably.”