Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Tears blur my vision. I shake my head and pick up my wineglass to swallow it all down. “I’m just hungry,” I say and continue to devour every bite on my plate. When I’m done, I set down my knife and fork and sit back in my chair to find both brothers watching me closely. I wipe my mouth and wonder what the hell they find so fucking interesting. I remember Bastian’s question again. Remember how when I’d said I was tired he’d made the comment that killing will do that to you. I’m a killer. I should feel guilt or remorse or something. Anything.
The kitchen door swings open, and two women emerge to clear our dishes.
“Give us a minute,” Amadeo tells them, and they retreat.
“We need to go,” I say.
“We have time,” Amadeo says as they both stand. “There’s something we need to talk about. Let’s go into the study.”
I look from him to Bastian and back. “What’s happened?”
“Come,” he says, Bastian moving to the exit as Amadeo pulls my chair out.
“What is it? Tell me.”
“Vittoria—”
“Just say it!”
He sighs and shakes his head. “Lucien is filing for guardianship of Emma.”
It takes me a minute. “What?”
“Lucien wants to be appointed your sister’s legal guardian.”
I push my hands into my hair, my head feeling heavy, the food I just scarfed down sitting like a brick in my stomach. I shake my head and look up at them.
“We have her. He can’t get to her.”
“We kidnapped her.”
“But I’m… how can he do that? Why? He doesn’t care about her. Certainly doesn’t love her.”
“It’s about leverage,” Amadeo says.
“It’s not about love. Love doesn’t matter,” Bastian adds.
I get to my feet, irritated, and go to him. I shove him. “Of course it matters. Love may not matter to someone like you, but it does matter!”
With a snort, he takes my wrists, and I breathe him in. “Someone like me?”
“Yes. Someone like you.”
“You’re fucked up, Dandelion, you know that?”
“Yeah, I do, Bastian. And guess what? You’re just as fucked up. Do you know that?”
He grins and nods casually. Too casually.
“Is this all a game to both of you?” I ask, turning to face Amadeo when Bastian releases my wrists.
“No game. We have an idea.”
I shake my head and step toward the exit of the room. “I want to see my brother.”
Amadeo takes my arm and turns me around. He draws me close and searches my face, eyes landing on my mouth and making me remember our last kiss. Making me remember how he gets when we kiss.
But this isn’t the time. “Let me go.”
He doesn’t. Instead, he holds me close as he and his brother share some silent communication.
“Let’s go into the study,” Bastian says.
“No. There’s no time,” I say, but Amadeo marches me to the study as Bastian leads the way. Once inside. I’m deposited on the couch. I wince when the blade cuts my thigh and look from one to the other. From the desk, Amadeo retrieves a file.
Dread settles in my stomach when he carries it to me but doesn’t quite hand it over.
“Do you remember our conversation from a few nights ago, Dandelion?” Bastian asks, coming to sit beside me. Amadeo takes the seat opposite us.
“Which one?” I rub my temples. I’m getting a headache.
“When I asked you if your mother or father had brown eyes.”
“Why does that matter? Lucien will try to take Emma from me.” I try to stand, but Bastian puts his hand on my thigh to keep me down. He pauses, then cocks his head to the side and studies me. I watch as he shifts his gaze down to look at his hand. There’s a smear of blood across his thumb. He draws the dress up my thigh to reveal the crudely made strap holding the dagger to my thigh. The cuts it’s made. The blood.
“What’s this, Dandelion?”
The dagger looks like a pretty little toy beside his big hand. I glance up at him, then at Amadeo. Neither look surprised, and I don’t feel like apologizing.
“It’s mine. I found it in your nightstand after you took it from me,” I tell Amadeo. Bastian moves to slip it from my thigh, but I catch his hand with both of mine. “You can’t take it away. I won’t let you.”
“Relax, sweetheart. I just want to have a look.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Fine. Dandelion. Relax, Dandelion.”
He takes my wrists, drags my arms behind my back and holds them with one of his as he slips the blade from its makeshift sheath. He tests the sharpness against his arm and whistles.
“I’m keeping it. If I’d had it when those men… maybe what happened wouldn’t have.”
They study me as I try to wriggle free of Bastian’s grip to take the dagger back.
“I mean it. I won’t be defenseless again.”
“We need to bandage the cut and you need a proper strap and sheath for it,” Amadeo says as Bastian gets up to go into the attached bathroom. He returns a moment later with a large bandage, then cleans the cuts and covers them with it.