Page 19 of Borrowed Bride

Emilia, Marco’s sister, is alive and living in secret in a closed wing of the house. The mysteries surrounding Marco deepen with each day, and I’m sure I’ll eventually lose track.

What struck me most about meeting Emilia was how Marco was with her. The weight of the world seemed to lift from his shoulders when he was with her, and I couldn’t help but notice the genuine affection between them.

He smiled at her. Touched her. Held such warmth in his eyes that I didn’t think was possible.

There’s more to him than meets the eye. And that, more than anything, makes me nervous.

Marco is much more complicated than I anticipated, which affects my own plans. Keeping your mark simple is the best way to an easy payday, but Marco is becoming anything but. Seeing that soft side of him also unlocked a strange yearning in my chest.

Could he ever be that soft with me? Do I ever want him to be? The sex was great and everything but this isn’t real. It can’t be. But the more I learn about him and his family, the deeper I sink into their net and it’ll be harder to claw my way out.

Dusting my hands along my thighs, I stand and stretch my arms long above my head. Cleaning and thinking is a good combination but I’m getting tired. I make a mental note to ask Marco if I can have a computer and turn to the gigantic wall unit that’s my next task. Marco told me many of the rooms in this manor have been in disuse for years because there’s no family here anymore.

Just him and his father. Dante. An angry man who seemed amusing the first time I met him, but learning how he wants to send Emilia off to a stranger doesn’t sit right with me. It’s uncomfortable and I can’t look him in the eye anymore.

Not yet, at least. In time, it will be easy.

I dust along the shelves and clean the glass the best I can until I come to a drawer that’s thoroughly stuck in the unit. Using all my strength, I pull, jerk, and wiggle the drawer back and forth until finally it scrapes free with a screech of wood against wood.

A chilling shiver steals down my spine at the sound and I shudder. Inside, there are countless old receipts, a couple of dusty books, and other odds and ends like buttons, a box of matches and some clothing pins. Yanking the drawer free, I’m about to tip the contents into a trash bag when something silver catches my eye.

A silver teardrop pendant. The dust vanishes in a single blow, and I eye the jewelry, unsure of what to do with it. Does this belong to Emilia?

I pocket the jewelry and resume cleaning. I’ll ask Marco about it.

Three hours later, I flop down onto my bed with a long, low groan.

“Ben tells me you’ve been busy,” Marco says, striding into my bedroom.

I prop myself up onto my elbows and watch him as he leans against the dresser. “Yeah. The room you gave me has all sorts of junk in it. When you told me the rooms weren’t in use, I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

“We’re busy people,” Marco replies. “I got your message. You want a laptop?”

“Mm-hmm. So I can look up interior inspiration.”

Marco watches me with an unreadable expression, then he nods. “I’ll get you one. Goodnight.”

As he turns to leave, I surge upward. “Wait! I found this when I was cleaning. Did it belong to your sister?”

Pulling the pendant from my pocket, I hold it up for only a second before Marco is right in front of me, snatching it away.

“Where did you find this?” he barks.

I glare up at him as my fingertips throb from having the chain ripped from my hand. “Like I said, while I was cleaning. Is it hers?”

When I expect another explosion of anger, to my surprise, Marco’s face softens and he drops down onto the bed next to me. The weight of his muscles against the mattress forces it to dip and I slide slightly against him.

“No. This belonged to Fawn. I never thought I would see this again.”

“Who is Fawn?”

Another sister?

“She was the woman I was going to marry.”

My heart stalls slightly in my chest and an odd curl of tension worms through my gut. “Huh?”

Marco sighs deeply. “I suppose there’s no point keeping it from you. When I was eighteen, I fell in love with a brilliant, magnificent woman. I was angry back then. Angrier than I am now.”

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