Page 50 of The Merciless Don's Bride

My father always said Dante was ice and I was fire. I burn everything in my path.

Dante, though? He freezes it. Slows it down. Numbs it.

Ice doesn’t cause immediate destruction like fire, but it lingers. It creeps in, quiet and deadly, until you're paralyzed before you even realize you’re dying.

Dante’s cunning and sometimes unpredictable? I’m the wildfire they can’t contain.

Which is why I sent him away. Because I trust him more than anyone else alive and I knew he had what it took to take care of business for me in Chicago. I needed eyes and ears there. Someone to control that branch of the Cosa Nostra. Dante went when I asked. But he wasn’t too happy about leaving home. So giving him a wife was a way to pacify him.

Which brings me to my next point. I thought I was done with it all. I have an agreement with Gabriel Solis that his daughter will be made aware of the situation and brought into the family once she’s 23. That’s in a year. A year until she becomes my brother’s wife and she has no idea.

I’m not saying I feel bad for her. I’m just wondering how a girl like that lives. No idea how much her life is about to change. Which is why I’m here. Out of mere curiosity.

I’m regretting that right now though. The party I’m currently at is loud and garish. The music is calling for an impending headache. I move through the crowd unnoticed, my eyes peeled as I try to find the woman my brother is meant to marry.

I eventually spot her weaving through the throng of guests, her laughter a little too lose, her steps a little too light. She doesn’t seem drunk, but she’s definitely not completely in charge of her faculties. I watch as she speaks to several people, her eyes wide and bright, her movements seamless.

She’s thriving, in her element. The way I must seem when I cut someone to pieces.

And then she starts walking towards the door, pushing it open and disappearing into the cool night. I didn’t plan on speaking to her. Or letting her see me at all. But something pushes me outside, towards her. I follow her, curious.

She stands alone outside, barefoot on the stone patio, heels dangling from one hand, head tilted back to the stare at the stars.

And she’s smiling. She smiles like the weight of the world can’t touch her. Like she’s invincible. It’s the kind of smile that brings men to their knees. Innocent, dangerous. I feel a sudden urge to capture her smile. Keep it forever.

“Why are you staring at me like a creep?”

I startle slightly, surprised she heard me walking up. She’s still staring up at the stars, and acting all too calm for a woman in a secluded environment alone and vulnerable. I don’t move, I don’t say a word until she eventually turns around to face me. Wide hazel eye, a flush on her cheeks from the alcohol I’m guessing.

She stares at me for a beat, her gaze perusing and all too probing.

“Who are you? You don’t seem like one of Leo’s friends,” she questions.

“Leo?” I drawl, stepping forward a little.

“The guy who threw this party? It’s his birthday.”

“I see. So he’s responsible for this,” I pause, looking for an appropriate word, “Circus.”

She snorts, “It’s a party. You sound like an old man.”

“I’m not old,bella.”

Her brows furrow, “My name’s Cassandra not Bella.”

“It’s Italian, sweetheart. It means beautiful,” I smirk.

“Of course Mr. mysterious, dark and handsome is Italian,” she murmurs.

I arch an eyebrow, slightly amused. She leans against the wall, way too comfortable for my tastes.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Italian?”

“What are you doing here?” I return curiously.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” she sighs, her eyes practically burning into me. “I don’t even like Leo. He’s a pig. I just thought a party would help.”

“With what?”

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