King of Wrath: from the bestselling author of the Twisted series (Kings of Sin)

10. Dante

“Another one bites the dust. Something must be in the water, with the way everyone around me is suddenly getting hitched,” Christian drawled. “How are things with your blushing bride? Blissful, I hope.”

“Cut the crap, Harper, or I’ll throw you out myself,” I growled. My engagement party was insufferable enough without dealing with him.

I was still unsettled from my kiss with Vivian last week, and now I had to make small talk with a bunch of people I didn’t particularly care for.

A wicked smile slashed across Christian’s face. “Not blissful, then.”

In the fourteen years I’d known Christian Harper, not a single one had passed without him inciting me to near murder. It was almost impressive on his part.

Instead of strangling him like I wanted, I smoothed a casual hand over my tie. “Compared to your pining? It’s fucking paradise.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t pine.”

“No. You simply slash the rent for everyone who wants to live in your building for no good reason.”

He wasn’t the only one who kept tabs on the people in his circle.

As a computer genius, owner of a luxury building in D.C., and the CEO of Harper Security, an elite private security firm, Christian had eyes and ears everywhere.

He knew about Francis’s blackmail. Hell, he was the one I’d tasked with tracking down and destroying the evidence.

He was also an asshole who got off on seeing how far he could push people. Some pushed back. Most didn’t.

Unfortunately for him, I was one of the few who called him out on his bullshit without hesitation.

“I’m not here to discuss my business decisions with you,” he said coldly. If anything could rile up the normally composed Christian, it was the mention, however indirect, of a certain tenant in his building. “I’m here to celebrate this exciting new chapter of your life.” He lifted his glass. “A toast to you and Vivian. May you have a long, happy life together.”

“Fuck off.”

The bastard laughed in response, but the mention of Vivian unwittingly brought my eyes to where she stood chatting with an elegant older couple. She’d been the consummate hostess all day, mingling and charming the guests until I couldn’t take two steps without someone gushing to me about how lovelyshe was.

It was galling.

My eyes lingered on the sweep of hair cascading over her shoulder and the swirl of silk around her knees. Her parents were here, but she wasn’t wearing tweed, thank God. Instead, she wore an ivory dress that flowed over her curves and made my pulse pound.

Short sleeves, modest neck, elegant cut.

The dress wasn’t racy by any means, but the way she glowed in it—the way her skin looked smoother than the silk and the way the skirt ruffled in the breeze—made my blood burn a little hotter.

Vivian laughed at something the couple said. Her whole face lit up, and I realized I’d never seen her genuine, unguarded smile before. No sarcasm or prim facade, just sparkling eyes, rosy cheeks, and an airy lightness that transformed her from beautiful to stunning.

Awareness kindled in my chest, hot and unwanted.

“Should I come back after you’ve finished ogling her?” Christian swirled the ice in his glass. “I don’t want to intrude on a private moment.”

“I’m not ogling her.” I dragged my eyes away from Vivian, but her presence remained a tangible heat on my skin. I tried to shake it off to no avail. “Enough bullshit. Give me an update on the project.”

He sobered. “Business operations are going as planned. The other situation is progressing, but not as quickly as we’d hoped.”

The pieces were falling in place for Francis’s business takedown, but we were still stalled on the evidence front.

Dammit.

“Just get it done before the wedding. Keep me updated.”

“I always do.” The amused glint in Christian’s eyes returned when he looked over my shoulder. “Incoming.”

I sensed her before I saw her. The sound of her heels, the smell of her perfume, the soft rustle of fabric against skin.

I drained my drink in one long pull as Vivian came up beside me.

“Apologies for interrupting.” She touched my arm and smiled at Christian, playing the role of apologetic fiancée perfectly. My skin tingled beneath her hand, and I almost shook her off before I remembered where we were. Engagement party. Loving couple. Pretend. “I need to steal Dante for a moment. Mode de Vie would like a photo for their wedding feature.”

“Of course,” Christian drawled. “Have fun.”

One day, I’d pay him back for all the crap he gave me about Vivian.

I followed her to the photo setup, where Francis waited with Cecelia, Vivian’s sister Agnes, and Agnes’s husband. My brother stood off to the side, his eyes glued to his phone while the photographer fiddled with his camera.

Something dangerous uncoiled in my chest.

I’d avoided Francis all day. He didn’t deserve my attention in public, which would only elevate his status, and I didn’t need more temptation to commit murder.

Apparently, my run had come to an end.

“You didn’t tell me this was a family photo.” The word family came out with an acerbic bite.

“I didn’t realize it mattered.” Vivian slid a sideways glance at me. “I asked Mode de Vie to wait until everyone was together, but they specifically wanted a photo from the party. However, they agreed to take another one with your parents whenever they’re stateside.”

I almost laughed at the insinuation I was upset over my parents’ absence. I couldn’t remember the last time Giovanni and Janis Russo showed up for one of their kids’ milestones.

“I’ll survive without a photo of our big, happy family,” I said, my tone dry.

I took my place in front of the camera as far away from Francis as possible. When the photographer gave us the go-ahead, I wrapped my arm around Vivian’s waist and forced a tight smile.

God, I hated photoshoots.

Luckily, this one didn’t require a kiss, and we got the shot in less than five minutes. Vivian’s friends pulled her away after for some reason or other while Luca turned to me.

“Hey, uh, I just wanted to say…congratulations? On the engagement.”

My glare could’ve set the room on fire.

He held up his hands. “Whoa, I’m trying to play nice, okay? I’m…” He lowered his hands and glanced around the room before facing me again. Guilt slashed across his expression. “I’m sorry this fell on you.”

His voice was barely audible over the other guests’ chatter, but it cut straight into my chest.

“It is what it is.” I was used to cleaning up after my brother. Hell, considering some of his past choices, I should be glad he hadn’t joined the mafia.

Things were shit, but they could always be worse.

Luca wiped a hand over his face. “I know, but I…fuck. I know you never wanted to get married. This is a big deal, Dante, and I know you’re working on finding—”

“Luca.” His name was a warning. “Not now.”

Christian was discreet; my brother wasn’t. I didn’t want anyone overhearing us at my own damn party.

“Right. Well, I just wanted to congratulate—I mean, apologize. And thank you.” His expression turned embarrassed. “I know I don’t say this often, but you’re a good brother. You always have been.”

Tightness crowded my chest before I acknowledged his statement with a curt nod.

“Go enjoy the party. I’ll see you at dinner next week.”

I wanted to see how things were going at Lohman Sons and make sure he was staying away from Maria. Despite his seeming remorse, I didn’t trust him enough to go long periods without checking in on him.

After Luca left, I made my way to the bar only to get stopped by Francis, who’d been busy talking to Kai until now.

“Excellent turnout,” he said as Kai shot me an indecipherable glance before slipping away. “It looks like the entire East Coast Valhalla membership is here.” A pause, then, “You have quite a presence in the club, don’t you?”

I regarded him coolly, the tightness from my conversation with Luca sinking beneath a well of distaste.

My great-grandfather had been one of the club’s twelve founding members. If I nominated someone for admission, they were guaranteed a spot, provided they met the basic eligibility criteria.

“Not any more or less than other members,” I said.

“Right.” Francis’s smile came alive like a shark sensing blood in the water. “I hear there’ll be an opening in the Boston chapter soon. Some nasty business with Peltzer’s bankruptcy.”

Ironic he should sound so gleeful about it when he would be in the same boat as Peltzer soon.

I couldn’t fucking wait. Until then…

“So I heard.” I tilted my head. “You were denied the last time you applied, no? Perhaps you’ll have better luck this time.”

Francis’s face darkened before relaxing into another smile. “I’m sure I will with your support. We’re practically family now, and family helps each other out. Don’t they?” He cast a meaningful look in Luca’s direction.

Rage clamped my jaw tight at his obvious threat.

Legacy Valhalla members were granted five nominations in their lifetime. I’d already used two—one for Christian, one for Dominic. I would rather cut off my dick than waste a third on Francis.

“I don’t have much insight into the Boston chapter.” It was only half a lie. I had connections there, but each chapter acted fairly independently in accordance with the local culture, politics, and traditions. “Valhalla’s membership committee is diligent in its selection process. If someone is worthy of being admitted, they’ll be admitted.”

Red splashed across Francis’s cheeks at my subtle dig.

“While I’m all for helping family…” My smile hardened into a warning. “They should know better than to push too hard. It never turns out well for the parties involved.”

Francis had enough balls to blackmail me but not enough to pretend he owned me. He was testing my breaking point to see how far he could take things.

Little did he know, he’d crossed it the minute he walked into my office and put those photos on my desk.

Before he could respond, Vivian returned, her cheeks noticeably more flushed than before. I wondered how many drinks she’d had with her friends.

“What did I miss?” she asked

“Your father and I were just discussing wedding logistics.” I didn’t take my eyes off Francis. “Isn’t that right?”

Resentment filled his eyes, but he didn’t dispute my account. “Right.”

Vivian’s eyes roved between us. She must’ve picked up on the underlying hostility because she quickly nudged her father toward Mode de Vie’s lifestyle columnist before pulling me aside.

“I don’t know what you were really talking about, but you shouldn’t provoke my father,” she said. “It’s like provoking a wounded tiger.”

A wisp of amusement cooled my anger. “I’m not scared of your father, mia cara. If he doesn’t like what I say, he can take it up with me himself.”

“Don’t call me that. Mia cara,” she clarified. “It’s insulting.”

I notched an eyebrow. “How so?”

“You don’t mean it.”

“People say things they don’t mean all the time.” I nodded at a silver-haired guest standing by the bar. “For example, your riveting conversation with Thomas Dreyer earlier. Don’t tell me you were actually interested in the minutiae of tax write-offs.”

“How did you hear…never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Vivian shook her head. “Look, I know this is business to you. You’re not high on my dream list of people to marry either, but it doesn’t change the fact we have to live with each other. We should at least try and make the most of the situation.”

What the fuck?

A rush of irritation ran down my spine. “Who, exactly, is on your dream list of people to marry?”

“Seriously?” Exasperation bled into her voice. “That’s your takeaway from what I just said?”

“How long is the list?”

It didn’t matter that I was forced into the engagement. My fiancée shouldn’t have a list of other men she’d rather marry. Period.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It sure as hell does.”

“I don’t—” Vivian’s sentence cut off when a drunken guest passed by and accidentally knocked into her.

She stumbled, and my hand instinctively shot out before she crashed into a nearby table of champagne.

We both froze, our eyes locked on where our bodies touched.

The surrounding noise dulled into a muted roar, overpowered by the heavy thuds of my heartbeat and the sudden hum of electricity in the air.

Even in heels, Vivian stood a full six inches shorter than me, and I could see the downward sweep of her lashes as her gaze honed in on where my fingers encircled her wrist.

It was so delicate I could’ve snapped it without trying.

Her pulse quickened, tempting me to prolong my hold before I came to my senses and dropped her hand like it was a hot coal.

The spell splintered at the loss of contact, and the sounds from the rest of the party burst through the cracks until it shattered into nothing.

Vivian pulled back and rubbed her wrist, her cheeks pink.

“What I was trying to say before we got off track is, we should attempt to get along,” she said breathlessly. “Get to know each other. Maybe go on a date or two.”

Some of the earlier tension dissipated.

“Are you asking me out, mia cara?” A smile touched my lips at her glare.

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Yes, you did.”

I was going to call her mia cara every chance I got.

Vivian closed her eyes and looked like she was praying for patience before she opened them again a few seconds later.

“Fine, let’s compromise. You can call me mia cara, sparingly, if you agree to the truce.”

“I wasn’t aware we were at war,” I drawled.

I rubbed a thumb over my bottom lip, contemplating her offer. Originally, I’d planned on ignoring Vivian until I ended the engagement. Out of sight, out of mind.

But her little flashes of defiance intrigued me, as did the insights she inadvertently shared about her family.

Perhaps keeping her at arm’s length was the wrong strategy.

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

I made my final decision in a split second.

“It’s a deal.” I held out my hand.

Vivian eyed it with a flicker of surprise, then wariness, before she took it.

Her breath escaped in a small gasp when I grasped her tighter and pulled her to me.

“Have to keep up appearances,” I murmured.

I inclined my head to our right, where at least a dozen guests were sneaking peeks at us.

My inbox had exploded after news of my engagement broke. No one believed I was engaged until they saw it with their own eyes, and I bet dozens of candid shots of me and Vivian would hit the internet later that night, if they haven’t already.

I trailed my free hand up her spine and curled it around the back of her neck before I lowered my mouth to her ear. “Welcome to the truce, mia cara.”

My breath fanned across her cheek.

She stiffened, her own breaths taking on an uneven rhythm.

I smiled.

This was going to be fun.