Page 4 of Marrying His Son’s Ex (Forbidden Kings #3)

KASI

Someone is watching me.

The feeling crawls up my spine like ice water, making every nerve ending scream danger. I keep my head down, shoulders hunched beneath my black coat, but I can feel eyes boring into me from across the cemetery.

I shouldn’t have come. This was stupid, reckless, everything Mrs. Rosetti would scold me for if she knew. But I had to see it with my own eyes—had to watch them put Dante Moretti in the ground and know, absolutely know, that my nightmare is finally over.

The priest drones on about eternal rest and peace, words that would make me laugh if I weren’t so terrified. Peace. As if someone like Dante could ever find it, even in death.

I shift slightly behind the oak tree, trying to get a better view of the graveside service. That’s when I see him—a man in an expensive black suit standing at the head of the gathering. Silver hair, broad shoulders, and an aura of command that makes everyone else fade into the background.

And despite never having seen him before, I know exactly who he is.

Dante’s father.

Alaric Moretti.

The same cold green eyes, the same sharp cheekbones and cut jawline that Dante inherited, only older, more dangerous. The man Dante rarely spoke of, except to curse or dismiss. Estranged for years, he always said. Not part of my life anymore.

But now, standing here, I can see the blood between them clear as day.

I don’t wait for him to make a move.

I turn and hurry off.

My heels click against the pavement as I weave between headstones, putting as much distance as possible between myself and whatever that was. Behind me, I hear the rumble of voices, the shuffle of feet as the service continues, but I don’t look back.

Three blocks from the cemetery, I finally slow down, my lungs burning. The bus stop sits next to a large maple tree, and I check the schedule with shaking hands. The next bus to Rosehill doesn’t leave for twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes feels like a lifetime when you’re convinced someone might be hunting you.

I pace the empty sidewalk, replaying that moment over and over.

Aside from being Dante’s father, there was something peculiar about him. The silver hair, the expensive suit, the way he almost took a step toward me before I ran. But I can’t place it, and that scares me more than anything.

What if word gets out that I was there? What if someone figures out who I am and where I’ve been hiding? Three months of building a quiet life in Rosehill, and one stupid decision to attend a funeral might have ruined everything.

When the bus finally arrives, it’s one of those long-distance coaches with high-backed seats and tinted windows. Only a handful of passengers are scattered throughout, which suits me perfectly. I choose a seat near the back, press my face against the cool glass, and watch the city fade behind me.

That’s when the tears start.

I haven’t cried—really cried—since the night I found those recordings.

Since I heard my father’s voice negotiating my future with a man I thought loved me.

The betrayal had been so complete, so devastating, that I simply…

stopped. Stopped crying, stopped hoping, stopped believing in anything except survival.

But now, watching Dante’s world disappear through the bus window, everything I’ve been holding back comes pouring out.

Two years ago…

The campus coffee shop was buzzing with the usual afternoon crowd when he walked in.

I noticed him immediately—everyone did. He was beautiful in that effortless way some men are, like he’d stepped off the cover of a magazine.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that caught the light and the kind of face that made girls forget how to speak.

He looked a bit older than me, maybe early twenties, wearing a designer leather jacket. But it was his eyes that really got me—green as sea glass, with an intensity that made my stomach flip when they landed on me.

“Excuse me,” he said, approaching my table with a smile that could have powered the entire building. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m completely lost. I’m here visiting my cousin, and his phone just died on me.”

His voice was smooth, cultured, with just a hint of an accent I couldn’t place. Up close, he was even more devastating—sharp cheekbones, a mouth that looked like it was made for kissing, and those impossible green eyes focused entirely on me.

“Where are you trying to go?” I managed, hoping I didn’t sound as breathless as I felt.

“The engineering building. My cousin said it was near the library, but…” He shrugged helplessly, and I found myself smiling despite my usual shyness.

“I can show you,” I offered, then immediately regretted it. What if he thought I was being too forward? What if ? —

“That would be amazing. I’m Dante, by the way.”

“Kasi.”

When he smiled at me—really smiled, not just the polite expression he’d worn before—my heart did something acrobatic in my chest. Greek gods look like this, I thought.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he said, and I actually felt my knees go weak.

We walked across campus together, and he was…perfect. Funny, charming, genuinely interested in what I was studying. He asked about my classes, my dreams, my favorite books. Made me feel like the most fascinating person he’d ever met.

When we reached the engineering building, he turned to me with that heart-stopping smile.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime? As a thank-you for saving me from wandering campus forever?”

I said yes before my brain could catch up with my mouth.

He was everything my twenty-year-old self dreamed of in a man—attentive, romantic, generous to a fault. For over a year, he made me feel like a princess in a fairy tale. I thought I was the luckiest girl alive.

I had no idea I was already trapped.

The memory dissolves as someone drops into the seat directly in front of me, jolting me back to the present. A man in his fifties with greasy hair and a gold-plated tooth that glints when he grins at me over the back of his seat.

“Well, well,” he drawls, looking me up and down like I’m a piece of meat. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone on this bus?”

I wipe my eyes and turn toward the window, hoping he’ll take the hint.

He doesn’t.

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart. I’m just being friendly.” His voice is oily, making my skin crawl. “You look like you could use some company. Maybe some…comfort.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” My voice is carefully neutral, but inside, I’m screaming.

“Come on now, don’t be like that. I’m a nice guy. I could show you a real good time.”

I endured years of Dante’s “friends” making similar comments at parties while he watched with amusement.

Something inside me snaps.

“LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!”

My voice echoes through the bus, making every passenger turn to stare. The man jerks back in surprise, his gold tooth disappearing behind suddenly pursed lips.

“You don’t have to be a bitch about it,” he mutters.

“Yes, I do!” I’m on my feet now, grabbing my purse and pushing past him toward the front of the bus. “I’m tired of men thinking they’re entitled to my attention! I’m tired of being polite when you won’t take no for an answer!”

The bus driver glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Everything okay back there?”

“It is now,” I say, claiming a seat right behind him.

The man with the gold tooth doesn’t bother me for the rest of the trip.

When we finally reach Rosehill, I’m the first one off the bus. The sky has turned gray while I was traveling, heavy clouds promising rain. I should hurry home, but I can’t bring myself to move faster than a walk.

The first drops hit when I’m still two blocks from my apartment. By the time I reach my building, I’m soaked through, my hair plastered to my head, and my coat dripping onto the sidewalk.

I don’t care.

I stand there in the rain, letting it wash over me, and cry for everything I’ve lost. Not Dante—never Dante.

But for the girl I was before I met him.

For the years he stole from me. For the dreams he crushed, the confidence he destroyed, the trust he shattered so completely I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to put the pieces back together.

Now he’s dead, and I should feel free. But all I feel is…empty. Lost. Like I spent so much time defining myself in opposition to him that I don’t know who I am without something to run from.

Eventually, the cold drives me inside. I peel off my wet clothes, take a scalding shower, and change into the softest pajamas I own. Then I settle on my couch with a bowl of chips and try to figure out what comes next.

I’m halfway through deciding whether to look for a new job or maybe go back to school when I hear it.

A car door slamming shut outside.

Then another.

And another.

My blood turns to ice. In a town like Rosehill, people don’t travel in groups after dark. They don’t park multiple cars outside the hardware store at nine o’clock at night.

I creep to the window and peek through the curtain. Three black SUVs sit under the streetlight, engines still running. Men in dark suits are getting out, checking their phones, looking up at my building.

My hands start shaking so badly I nearly drop the bowl.

They found me.

Heavy footsteps echo on the stairs outside, getting closer. I back away from the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. Then someone pounds on my door.

The sound is so loud, so aggressive, that I jump and press my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

They’ve come for me.