“Jealous isn’t like you,” Remo said with a hint of … was that curiosity?
“I’m not jealous, but there are a few things I don’t want to share with you and Kiara is one of them.”
Remo waved me off. “She is all yours. Don’t worry.” I wasn’t worried. Remo was unpredictable, twisted, and brutal, but he was my brother and he would never lay hand on someone who was mine. “But I will have to give this … what did you call it?”
“Ius primae noctis,” I provided.
“Yeah, that. Maybe I will have to give it another thought.”
I regarded my brother, trying to figure out if he was being serious. It was often hard to tell with Remo, and my lack of understanding human emotions had little to do with it. “You realize that most men won’t find the idea of you fucking their women very appealing. There is a limit to what people will take, even from you. Fear has its limits. At some point, humans revolt.”
Remo rolled his eyes. “You realize you are human too, right?”
“I always got the impression that you and I had little humanity left.”
Remo clapped my shoulder. “True.” His smile turned dangerous. “Who needs emotions and morals when they can fuck and maim and kill as they please?”
I had never seen the appeal of having emotions.
Kiara glanced at me from across the room again but quickly looked away when I met her gaze. She was trying to hide her emotions, but I could sense her terror even from the distance. Emotions were always a weakness.
CHAPTER 5
KIARA
Aunt Egidia handled the wedding preparations with Aria’s help. The Falcones didn’t seem to show much interest in the details of the celebration. For them it was business, nothing else. It was decided that the wedding was to take place in my parents’ mansion in the Hamptons—the place where they had been killed. My mother by my father and my father by Luca. It was almost symbolic that this was the place where I would lose my life as well.
On the day of my wedding, I stepped into the foyer of the mansion, a place I hadn’t set foot in for years. It had been mostly deserted since then. My brothers had inherited the place—not me since I was a woman—and they had preferred to stay in Atlanta, away from Luca and away from me. They were much older, so we never had much in common anyway. They were busy making names for themselves, despite our father’s wrongdoings. My marriage to Nino was supposed to wash away the blemish of the past, but my secret could ruin us all.
Over the last few days, cleaners and interior designers had awoken the place from its desolate state. The main party would take place in a massive party tent in the garden. It was late April and planning the party outside without any shelter would have been too risky.
I walked up the stairs slowly, and my eyes found the spot where my mother had died. With a shudder, I quickly scurried into my old bedroom. It, too, had been prepared for the day. Fresh flowers had been set up in vases around the room, probably to cover the musty scent of neglect. My aunt was talking to the stylist, who’d do my hair and makeup, at the vanity. A floor-length mirror had been set up for the occasion. My dress was spread out on the four-post bed.
It was a beautiful dress: white, the color of innocence and purity.
I looked at my aunt and considered telling her what had happened to me six years ago. As always, I didn’t because I’d be less in her eyes. Something broken, something dirty. Not worthy of that perfect white dress.
Giulia slipped into the room, already dressed in a beautiful burgundy dress, and hugged me. “I can’t believe they chose this place for the celebrations,” she muttered.
“It belongs to her closest living relatives, her brothers. It’s what honor dictated.”
Honor dictated so many things in our lives, it hardly left any room for choice.
Giulia rolled her eyes. “So it had nothing to do with the fact that nobody wanted to risk their mansion for the party because the risk of a bloodshed is too high? After all, that’s why this isn’t taking place in a hotel.”
Aunt Egidia pursed her lips at her daughter. “Giulia, really, one would think your marriage to Cassio would have put a stop to your insolence.”
“Cassio likes my insolence,” she said, her cheeks flushing.
Aunt Egidia sighed then narrowed a nervous glance toward the stylist; she was always worried about leaving a bad impression in front of others. “I think we should start now. With your unruly hair, it’ll probably be a while before your bridal hairdo is done.”
My aunt proved to be right. The stylist took forever taming my curls into a braid that traveled down my back. A thin strand of gold leaves and pearls that she wound into it adorned the simple style.