Page 3 of Heir of Darkness

Another howl of laughter rang through the hall.

One peek wouldn’t hurt. Luna looked around, making sure no one lingered before she approached the door silently. Her breath hitched as she leaned in.

The first person she saw was Allister, who carried a bottle in his hand as he walked with unsteady steps to the desk. His golden-blonde hair was lit up by the warm lights of the room, a big grin on his face. The other was a man she recognized for his dark black hair and the carefree smile. Dante. The youngest son of Cesare Vitali. He considered everything in life to be a joke and was known to be the life of the party.

Their leader was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he ditched the party thinking he was above being celebrated.

Luna turned away from the door, but hands grabbed on to her hips, pushing her up against the wall. She gasped.

A big hand clenched her chin, lifting her head up so she would be forced to stare into the same electric blue eyes she hadn’t seen in years. His brows were narrowed, a permanent frown etched on his lips. There was a hint of satisfaction in his eyes, knowing he had caught her.

“Looking for me?” he asked. His voice was rough and reeked of power.

Valerio Vitali.

The man her brother hated. The man who had more rumors than truth surrounding his name. And the man her father had arranged for her to marry.

For the past seven years, she had prayed and pleaded with every God to ensure he wouldn’t come home. She even called different embassies, creating lies about him so he wouldn’t be let back into the country. Somehow, he had defied it all because there he stood in all his menacing glory.

Her words were lost on her as she stared at his beauty. He was older now, his face more stern, body more chiseled. Of course he was beautiful, but it was a dangerous type of beauty.

“I was looking for the bathroom,” she told him.

“And stopped to look inside my study? Were you disappointed I wasn’t there?” he asked. He moved his hand along her neck, settling it against the skin like a necklace.

Luna ground her jaw. “As if. I went years without seeing you. I can go for a lifetime.”

Valerio’s eyes narrowed. “Lucky for you, you won’t have to.”

“So you’re back? For good?” she asked, swallowing harshly.

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” He smirked, trailing his thumb along her skin. She hated the goosebumps that rose on her skin.

“You know what they say about hope and misery,” she said, pushing against him.

He gave her a sinister grin. “Oh, come on, Luna. There must be a part of you that is at least a little bit happy to see me.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. “I didn’t take you for a liar.”

Luna closed her eyes, before opening them again, realizing where she was and who she was with. She pushed him again; this time he moved away from her. “Sorry to break it to you, but I don’t want your disgusting hands or your miserable energy anywhere near me.”

“Is that why you came to my party?” he asked, crossing his arms.

Luna rolled her eyes. “If I had known what this party was, I wouldn’t be anywhere near it.”

“Here I thought my fiancée would have helped throw this party for me,” he said.

Luna’s face fell. She was completely over the conversation.

“I’m going home,” she said, walking past him.

He grabbed her arm, forcing her to fall against him. She quickly composed herself, pushing his hand off. “Is there an issue with that word?”

“You know why I hate that word,” she spit out, her composure completely derailed now. She tried so hard to act and look proper, the way her parents raised and expected her to act. There was something about Valerio that was always able to send her into a spiral. She’d had peace for seven years. Why did he have to come back? “I will never be your wife.”

“Let me make this clear for you, Luna. I gave you seven years to come to terms with the inevitable. Fight me all you want; I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere. You will be my wife and that is final.” Valerio’s voice sliced through the hall, loud and promising to anyone who listened.

Luna narrowed her eyes. She wouldn’t bow down to anyone; she never had and she wouldn’t start now.

“Over my dead fucking body, Vitali,” she hissed.

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