THE WIDOWS ENEMY

Chapter 4

By noon, the entire city knew I was marrying Dante Vescari.

By one, three newspapers had printed my photograph beside his.

By two, my father had called me six times.

I ignored every call.

I was standing in front of a mirror in the Vescari estate, wearing a red dress that Dante had chosen without asking me.

The dress fit perfectly.

That annoyed me more than it should have.

"You look beautiful."

I turned.

Dante stood in the doorway, adjusting his cufflinks.

"Did you hire someone to follow me into the dressing room?"

"No."

"Then how did you get here?"

"This is my house."

"Unfortunately."

His eyes moved over the dress.

"Red suits you."

"Blood suits you."

He smiled.

"There she is."

I turned back to the mirror.

The woman staring at me looked calm, elegant, and completely in control.

I knew better.

I had barely slept since the telephone call. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the little girl in the photograph. I heard the woman's voice telling me to run from Dante.

I wanted to ask him what he remembered.

I wanted to demand that he tell me why his sister blamed him for her disappearance.

Instead, I picked up my earrings.

"Where are we going?"

"The engagement announcement."

"I thought we were already engaged."

"We are."

"Then what are we announcing?"

Dante came up behind me.

"Our happiness."

I looked at him through the mirror.

"Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself speak?"

"Never."

He reached past me and picked up one of the earrings I had dropped.

His fingers brushed my neck as he fastened it.

I went still.

His gaze met mine in the mirror.

"You're nervous."

"I'm deciding whether to break your fingers."

"That usually makes you nervous?"

"Only when I might enjoy it."

His smile widened.

I turned to face him.

"Listen carefully. I will smile for your guests. I will hold your hand. I will pretend to be madly in love with you if necessary."

"How generous."

"But if you touch me without asking, I will make a scene so terrible that people will remember it for the rest of their lives."

His expression became serious.

"Understood."

I blinked.

I had expected another joke.

Instead, he stepped back and offered me his arm.

"Ready, Mrs. Vescari?"

"Not even slightly."

"Excellent. Neither am I."

The announcement was held at the Vescari estate, where the garden had been decorated with white roses and strings of warm lights. Men in expensive suits stood near the gates. Women in silk dresses whispered behind their glasses.

Everyone wanted to see the Moretti widow who had agreed to marry the man she supposedly hated most.

I gave them a show.

Dante's hand rested lightly at my waist as we entered the garden.

Cameras flashed.

Someone applauded.

A woman near the fountain whispered that I must be desperate.

I smiled at her.

"Desperate enough to marry Dante," I said sweetly. "But not desperate enough to borrow your dress."

Her mouth fell open.

Dante coughed into his hand.

I stepped on his foot.

He leaned toward me.

"You're enjoying yourself."

"Immensely."

"Try not to frighten all my guests."

"I'll do my best."

A man approached us, carrying a glass of champagne.

"Vescari. Congratulations."

Dante's expression cooled.

"Richard."

Richard Cole had been one of Alexander's closest friends. He had also been the first person to tell me that Dante had ordered my husband's death.

He kissed my hand.

"Seraphina. You look lovely."

"Thank you."

"I must admit, I'm surprised. After everything that happened, I never thought you'd agree to marry him."

"People change."

His eyes moved toward Dante.

"Some people don't."

Dante took a step forward.

"Is there something you wish to say, Richard?"

Richard smiled.

"Only that I hope you treat your new wife better than you treated her predecessor."

The words landed like a slap.

I felt Dante's hand tighten at my waist.

Before he could speak, I lifted my glass.

"How thoughtful of you to worry about my marriage. If you ever decide to marry, I'll be sure to offer the same concern. Though I suspect you'll need to find someone who can tolerate you first."

A few people laughed.

Richard's smile vanished.

Dante looked down at me.

There was something dangerously pleased in his eyes.

"That was cruel," he murmured.

"He deserved it."

"I know."

He guided me toward the terrace.

For the next hour, we performed the perfect engagement. We smiled, exchanged compliments, and allowed people to photograph us together.

When a woman asked whether we were in love, Dante looked at me.

"I am learning to be."

The answer caught me off guard.

The woman sighed.

"How romantic."

I smiled politely.

Then I leaned toward Dante.

"I will murder you in your sleep."

"Promises, promises."

Later, I found him standing alone near the garden wall.

His tie was loose. His jacket was gone. He looked tired.

For some reason, that made him seem more human.

I approached him.

"Are you all right?"

He glanced at me.

"Did you just ask if I'm all right?"

"Don't make me regret it."

"I'm fine."

I studied him.

"You don't look fine."

"And you look like you want to ask me something."

I hesitated.

"The call last night."

His face changed.

"I told you I would explain."

"When?"

"When I know the truth."

I folded my arms.

"That is not good enough."

"No," he said quietly. "It isn't."

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he reached into his pocket and handed me a small card.

It was old, with a faded photograph of a woman on the front.

My mother.

I stared at it.

"Where did you get this?"

"From my father's study."

I turned it over.

There was a message written on the back.

The girls must never be allowed to meet again.

I looked up.

"Dante—"

A shout interrupted me.

One of the guards was running toward us.

"Boss! We have a problem."

Dante's expression hardened.

"What happened?"

"The woman at the north gate. She says she knows your bride."

My stomach tightened.

"What woman?"

The guard swallowed.

"She says she knew Mrs. Vescari before she was born."

Dante looked at me.

I looked back.

Before either of us could move, the guard held out a photograph.

It showed my mother standing beside a young woman.

The young woman had Dante's eyes.

Evelyn.

On the back was a message written in red ink.

The wedding must not happen.

A second message followed.

If they marry, tell Seraphina what she did to the girl.

I felt the garden tilt beneath my feet.

"What did I do?" I whispered.

Dante took the photograph from me.

His jaw tightened.

"Nothing."

"You don't know that."

He looked at me.

"I know you."

I wanted to believe him.

That was the most frightening part.

Then a scream came from the entrance.

The music stopped.

People turned.

A woman in a pale dress stood beneath the garden lights, her face hidden by a veil.

She was holding a gun.

And she was pointing it directly at me.