As I stood there, my fingers trembling at the hem of my dress, the heavy double doors at the far end of the hall swung open.
Leonardo, Vincent, and Matteo walked in. They didn't look like the men who had kidnapped me from my home; they looked like soldiers returning from a bloodbath.
Their jackets were off, sleeves rolled up, and Leonardo had a smear of dark blood across his jaw.
They didn't look surprised to see the "entertainment" in progress. In the Rossini Clan, this was clearly the standard after-party.
My eyes locked onto Leonardo’s. I expected to see a flash of the passion we had shared in his room—or even a flicker of the jealousy he’d shown toward Vincent. But his eyes were like two chips of blue ice, devoid of any warmth.
He sat down next to his father, accepted a glass o
