THE WIDOWS ENEMY

Chapter 2

Absolutely not."

I threw the marriage contract across Dante's desk.

It landed beside a glass of whiskey.

Dante glanced at the papers, then at me.

"You haven't read it."

"I read the first sentence."

"And?"

"It was offensive."

His eyebrows lifted. "The sentence was your name."

"Exactly."

He leaned back in his chair.

I had been in his house for twenty minutes, and I already wanted to set something on fire. The place was enormous, with high ceilings, polished floors, and paintings that probably cost more than my father's entire collection of cars.

Everything smelled of expensive wood and Dante's cologne.

I hated that I noticed.

"You agreed to marry me," he reminded me.

"I agreed to consider it."

"You said, and I quote, 'One year.'"

"I was under fire."

"An unfortunate time to negotiate, I admit."

I picked up the contract and dropped it into his lap.

"Let's start again. I want access to everything you know about Alexander's death. I want to know why your sister's ring was on his finger. And I want your men to stop following my father."

Dante folded the papers neatly.

"Done."

I blinked.

"Done?"

"You have access to my records concerning Alexander. Your father will not be touched by my men unless he gives me a reason. In return, you marry me within forty-eight hours."

"That is not a negotiation. That's a threat wearing a nice suit."

"You're welcome to call it whatever makes you comfortable."

I walked around his desk.

He watched me approach, his expression unreadable.

"Do you always get what you want?"

"Usually."

"How disappointing for you."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to make this miserable."

His eyes moved over my face.

"I would expect nothing less."

I stopped in front of him.

"One more thing."

"Of course."

"No touching me unless I allow it."

Something changed in his expression. The teasing disappeared.

"Agreed."

"No pretending this marriage is anything more than a deal."

"Agreed."

"No lying to me."

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then he said, "That one will be difficult."

I almost laughed.

At least he was honest about being dishonest.

I held out my hand.

"Give me the contract."

He passed it to me.

I read every page this time. There were rules about public appearances, sleeping arrangements, security, and what would happen if either of us broke the agreement.

The last page contained a clause about personal property.

I read it twice.

"What does this mean?"

Dante stood and came around the desk.

"Which part?"

"'Neither party may remove or destroy property belonging to the other without permission.' Why is that here?"

"Because I know you intend to search my house."

I looked up sharply.

"And you intend to search mine."

"I already have."

My hand tightened around the papers.

"You went through my home?"

"Three weeks ago."

I slapped the contract against his chest.

"You arrogant—"

"Your bedroom has a loose floorboard beneath the window. You keep a second gun inside it. Your father's driver arrives at six every morning. And you sleep with the bathroom light on."

I went still.

He had been inside my bedroom.

He had seen the things I kept hidden.

The things no one else knew.

I wanted to hit him. I wanted to scream. Most of all, I wanted to know why he had bothered to remember such small details.

"Why?" I asked.

His expression hardened.

"Because someone was watching your house before I arrived."

The anger inside me faltered.

"What?"

"Two men had been sitting outside your home for eleven nights. They weren't mine. I followed them, and they disappeared."

"You expect me to believe you were protecting me?"

"No. I expect you to believe that someone wants you alive for a reason."

He moved toward a cabinet and removed a folder.

Inside were photographs of my house, my car, and the restaurant where I used to meet Alexander's old friends.

My fingers went cold.

One photograph showed me leaving my bedroom window at night.

Another showed me standing beside my husband's grave.

The last photograph was taken yesterday.

At the cemetery.

Dante had not been the only person watching me.

Someone else had been standing behind the trees.

Someone whose face had been carefully scratched out.

I lifted the photograph.

"Who is this?"

"I don't know."

"Then why are you marrying me?"

He stepped close enough that I could see the faint scar beside his eyebrow.

"Because I think the person following you is the same person who killed Alexander."

"And you think marrying me will make them reveal themselves?"

"I think it will make them desperate."

I stared at him.

"You want to use me as bait."

"I want to give you the chance to choose whether you want to help me."

"That is the same thing."

"Not quite."

He took the photograph from my hand.

"If you marry me, you will have my protection, access to my house, and the right to investigate anything connected to your husband's death. If you refuse, I will still help you find the truth."

I studied his face, searching for the trick.

"Why?"

For once, he did not answer immediately.

Then he said, "Because I owe Evelyn that much."

The name settled between us.

I thought of the ring. The photograph. The woman standing beside Alexander.

I thought of the way Dante's voice had changed when he spoke about his sister.

"Fine," I said.

He blinked.

"Fine?"

"I'll marry you."

He looked almost suspicious.

"But?"

I smiled without warmth.

"But if I discover that you had anything to do with Alexander's murder, I'll kill you myself."

He offered me his hand.

"I would expect nothing less from my wife."

I took the contract and signed my name.

Then I noticed the signature already printed beneath mine.

Dante Vescari.

The date beside it was three days old.

I looked up.

"You signed this before you asked me."

"Yes."

"How did you know I'd agree?"

He took the pen from my hand and placed it on the desk.

"I didn't."

"Then why sign it?"

His gaze held mine.

"Because I knew you would want to know the truth more than you would want to kill me."

I hated him for understanding that.

I hated him even more when he opened the desk drawer and removed a small silver key.

"What is this?"

"The key to my private study."

I didn't take it.

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"Because you won't stop looking for answers, and I'd rather know where you are when you find them."

I snatched the key.

"You're not as clever as you think."

"No," he said softly. "I'm much worse."

I turned toward the door.

"Your wedding is in forty-eight hours," he called after me.

I stopped.

"Our wedding?"

He smiled.

"You signed the contract, sweetheart."

I looked down at the ring on my finger.

I hadn't even noticed him sliding it on.

I pulled it off immediately.

When I turned back, he was watching me with an expression I couldn't read.

"Keep the ring," he said. "You'll need it."

"For what?"

His smile disappeared.

"Because whoever has been watching you will know you're mine now."

I left his study with the key in my pocket and a promise of murder on my tongue.

But halfway down the hall, I heard a door open behind me.

Dante's voice stopped me.

"Seraphina."

I turned.

He stood in his doorway, holding a small envelope.

"There is something I forgot to tell you."

"What now?"

He held up the envelope.

"Your husband left this for me."

I stared at him.

"When?"

"Three days before he died."

Dante opened it.

Inside was a single photograph.

A little girl stood beside a boy with dark hair. The girl's face was mine.

The boy's face was Dante's.

On the back, someone had written:

They must never remember what happened that night.