Page 19 of Legacy (The Sovereigns #2)

Angelo

E verything is almost perfect.

Penthouse covered in roses.

Her favorite meal prepared and ready, table set.

I take a breath.

I shouldn’t be nervous.

I’m the fucking Don.

Man up.

She’s mine. There’s no getting out of this, we’re married, arranged.

A text vibrates my phone.

Nico.

‘Ten minutes out.’

Ten minutes. Ten minutes and my space is not my own anymore. Ten minutes and she’s here.

My phone thrills.

The phone flashes ‘Piccola’ across the screen.

Vasilisa.

She wouldn’t call me. Definitely not with Santo hovering around her.

My chest tightens.

Something must be wrong.

I answer immediately.

“Everything okay, Piccola?”

“Yes,” she responds before whispering.

“Santo doesn’t know I’m calling and I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but it has to stop.”

I exhale. Damn it, Tiny.

“Can we set up some sort of ruse to accidentally meet up or something, so you two can sit and talk?”

I can hear the anxiety in her voice.

I take a heavy breath.

“A ruse wouldn’t work, it would only piss Santo off you know that Tiny.”

A small sigh comes from the receiver.

“But I want to meet her .”

A warmth I didn’t expect floods through me.

“You can Tiny, it’ll happen, just give Santo some time. He has his reasons to be upset and I have mine.”

The elevator dings.

“But I want,” she begins.

But I have to cut her off. “I want everything too Piccola, I’ll see what I can do. I got to go.”

I end the call in time to watch the elevator doors close behind her.

Her.

Scarlet.

Everything inside me stills. The breath I just took doesn’t make it to my lungs.

She steps forward slowly, heels clicking against marble like the beat of a countdown.

Dressed like she’s ready for a business meeting, her hair is pulled back, exposing the curve of her neck. Makeup perfect. Radiant. Unforgiving.

Older.

Stronger.

She isn’t the girl I left behind.

She’s a fucking storm dressed in armor .

My mouth goes dry. My heart slams once, twice, like it’s trying to fight its way out.

She doesn’t smile.

Her eyes flick across the penthouse. Roses. Dim lighting. The food. The table. Her brows raise just slightly.

“You redecorate for every woman you chain to your name, or am I just lucky?”

Her voice is calm. Velvet, but stone cold.

It guts me.

Still, I can’t stop staring at her.

“Scarlet,” I breathe.

She freezes.

Just slightly. Just enough.

“Adriana,” she snaps softly.

“I’ve only known you as Scarlet.”

“Not anymore. Not after five years. Not after silence .”

I swallow hard and step forward before I can stop myself.

She steps back.

Fuck.

The distance is worse than I imagined.

“You’re here,” I say, because it’s all I can manage. Because it feels impossible.

“Because I had to be.”

A beat. Just long enough for me to hate myself again.

“I wanted to call—”

“You didn’t.”

“I didn’t mean now, I meant—”

Her eyes lock on to mine and I freeze.

“You meant what?” Her head tilts.

Her tone. She’s not even trying, she’s not willing. She wants a fight. A game.

Fine .

“I mean I would have called, but I’m sure you changed your number.”

She stills. Almost like she stops breathing.

My eyes narrow. I caught her on something.

But what?

She swallows.

“What did you make?” she asks brushing by me.

I inhale the scent of her.

The same.

Darker.

Richer .

Cherries.

“I didn’t make anything, Clara did.”

The mention of another woman’s name does something .

“Another wife?”

I chuckle. “My chef. Our chef now.”

She walks toward the kitchen where the table is set with her favorite meal.

“Pulling out all the stops I see.”

Her hand grazes the back of the chair.

I—”

Nico’s voice interrupts.

“Adriana, I left your bags by the elevator.”

Stepping to the kitchen, his eyes on her she smiles at him.

It’s a perfect smile.

Gorgeous.

Mine.

“Thank you Nico, I appreciate it,” her voice smooth. Kind. Warm.

I glare at Nico to get the fuck out, but he ignores me.

Fucker.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m all set thank—”

“You could put her bags in the master bedroom,” I interrupt. He shouldn’t even be addressing her. He’s doing it to get under my skin.

“No.”

Adriana’s voice is cold again, her eyes on me.

“Sleeping arrangements haven’t been arranged yet.”

My jaw clenches so hard I may break teeth.

“Get out Nico,” I demand.

Nico glances at me before his eyes flick to her. “You’ll be okay?”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Yes, Nico. Thank you, I can handle myself,” she answers him with that warm cadence again.

He nods at her and leaves. I hear the elevator chime and make a mental note to deal with him later.

“Sleeping arrangements?” I ask, a brow raised. “There are no arrangements. We’re married. You sleep with me.”

She scoffs. “Sit. I’ll tell you how this is going to go.”

She takes a seat and looks at me, eyebrow arched.

She’s playing with fire now. I take the bait. I sit across from her.

Our plates in front of us, the food smells divine, but all my focus is on the woman across from me. The one pushing my buttons and turning me on at the same time.

“ You are going to tell me how this is going to go?”

She nods.

“You’re the one who set up this marriage. That means in five long years. No calls, no texts, not so much as birthday card then all of a sudden—marriage?”

She laces her fingers together in front of her. Her perfectly manicured nails as clean and sharp as her brows.

“Seems like only one of us needed this arrangement, and it wasn’t me.”

She leans back.

“So, I have some stipulations.”

“Stipulations,” I echo .

“Yes.”

“Okay and then what? We negotiate?”

“Yes.”

I smirk.

She clenches her jaw.

“Alright… Adriana. Lay it on me, what do you want?”

Her eyes meet mine, sharp. Fierce.

“My own house.”

“You want a whole damn house out of me?”

“Don’t act like you can’t afford it or don’t already have one,” she says gesturing around the room.

“No.”

“No?”

“Yes. I’m saying No.”

“No counter offer? No explanation?”

I take a breath.

“I don’t have another place currently and if I did I wouldn’t set you up to live in a home of your own. We’re in the middle of a war. It isn’t safe.”

“You have men. Have Nico guard me,” she shrugs, confident. Easy.

Like this is effortless and not her life we’re talking about.

And she wants Nico.

He’s as good as dead to me.

I clear my throat unsure how much I should even give to her.

“My mother had guards and a house of her own. She still ended up dead in pieces at my father’s doorstep so, no.”

Her face drops, her eyes flick down. She takes a breath and nods.

“My own room?”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes, fine. What else?”

Having to mention my mother was more than enough for today. Why the fuck did I want to get married ?

The woman in front of me doesn’t want to be here. She doesn’t want me.

Fuck.

She doesn’t even seem to like me.

“Nothing else for now,” she says picking up her fork. “We can have lunch and finish the rest of this conversation after.”

Confusion sets in, but I let it go. She’s giving me pity.

I hate pity.