Marcello’s POV
I was in my chamber sipping my wine when the door was angrily pushed open. I knew it would be her—no one else stormed into my private quarters like that.
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t look up. I merely took another sip, letting the sharp, aged taste of the red run over my tongue as I settled further into the velvet chair. I snickered softly.
“Rebekah,” I said, her name a calm ripple in the storm that was about to break. “To what do I owe this... delightful intrusion?”
“You bought her,” she spat, voice shaking with fury. “You bought Lyra.”
I lifted my gaze, finally meeting hers. Her chest rose and fell quickly, her hands clenched at her sides, eyes ablaze. Her beauty always intensified when she was furious—like a storm about to rip the sky open.
“So she told you,” I murmure
