Peasants and Kings - Emma Slate Page 0,101

on my island because we don’t know if there’s a trail? The rest of your life spent making sure the Foscari don’t ever learn of your whereabouts? No, Sterling. We’re going to tell your family and I’m going to pay whatever it is I have to pay to buy your freedom, and then we get to move on with our lives.”

I set down my mug and got up from the table. I perched in his lap and wrapped my arms around him, needing the strength of him to be real. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Hadrian Rhys.”

His large hand stole across my back. “And here I was, thinking the same thing about you.”

The air between us had changed. There were no longer any secrets. The veil had been lifted, and we were together as one.

United.

Committed to each other in a way I’d never expected.

I trusted him implicitly. I trusted him to protect me from the ruthlessness of the Compagnia Bianca de Falco.

He took me to bed, a relentless, feral beast. It was as if he was proving to me and to himself that he was the one in control. I cried out and tightened around him from the all-consuming pleasure, giving another piece of myself to Hadrian. In his bed, I found honesty and truth. I found absolution and safety. I found what I hadn’t ever expected to find.

A few days later, I stood slightly behind him, prepared to greet the four Moretti men that Hadrian had invited into his home. Wind from the sea whipped the hair I had tied back into a ponytail across my shoulders as Hadrian and I waited on the roof.

“Even though the Moretti and I have a mutually beneficial business relationship, I would never call Angelo a friend. He would never call me a friend either, and it’s rare that these men do business with non-Italians.”

“So, why do they do business with you?”

He shot me an amused look. “Power is power. Even they can’t deny that. I’m not a billionaire by chance, Sterling.”

Was Hadrian’s power enough to get me out of this clusterfuck of a situation?

Helicopter engines growled into existence, and a silver metal beast appeared in the sky as the beating of its rotors sprayed mist through the air. It landed on a giant “H” on Hadrian’s helipad.

The door of the helicopter opened, and a man wearing a three-piece gray suit climbed out.

Huge. Bold. He strode with purpose, embodying wealth and luxury. His dark hair had threads of gray at the temples and was tastefully gelled off his forehead. His face betrayed no emotion whatsoever as he approached Hadrian. His skin was a naturally healthy bronze, and though his brow was furrowed with wrinkles, I couldn’t tell his age.

Three men dressed in a similar fashion trailed behind him, all with the same dark hair and eyes.

The helicopter’s rotors flattened, and the wind and sound diminished at once as the engines began to settle in a high-pitched, dying whine.

Hadrian grasped the man’s outstretched palm when he was within distance.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Hadrian said in flawless Italian.

“My pleasure,” the man returned politely as his dark gaze slid to me.

Hadrian reached behind me to drag me forward so he could drape his arm around me in a show of possession. “This is Eden.”

The man held out his hand, and I set my palm against his. His skin was warm and smooth. “Angelo,” he greeted in English. “Pleasure.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” I replied, trying not to gape at the man who was my uncle.

Angelo peered at Hadrian’s battered face. “What happened to you?”

“I’ll explain later. You’re welcome to speak in your native tongue while you’re here,” Hadrian said. “Eden speaks fluent Italian.”

I detected a flicker of interest enter Angelo’s expression before he hid it. “We will discuss pleasantries in English and business in Italian. You are our host, and I will honor you by speaking in your native tongue.”

Hadrian nodded.

Angelo dropped my hand and turned to the men behind him. “My younger brother, Nico. My heir, Luca. My second eldest, Tor.”

The three men inclined their heads, but otherwise remained silent. Nico was thinner than Angelo, his nose more aquiline. He wasn’t nearly as compelling to look at. Luca and Tor resembled their father, but while Luca’s face appeared open and curious, Tor’s remained shuddered. He stared at me underneath thick dark brows, and I had to stop myself from shivering. There was something unnerving in his solid,

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