Page 135 of Peasants and Kings
“But she is Violetta’s daughter, and the Foscarideserverestitution,” Angelo said.
“There is another option,” Hadrian said, taking my hand and pulling me to his side. He didn’t wait for Angelo to speak, “You have a daughter. Marry her to the Foscari. Sterling is already promised. To me.”
I inhaled a sharp gasp at Hadrian’s public declaration. His words resounded through the room even after he fell silent. The two men at the opposite ends of the table stared at one another.
“I like you, Hadrian,” Angelo said finally. “I’ve always admired you—what you’ve built, coming from nothing. But as powerful and wealthy as you are, you are not one of the five families of Italy, and you don’t understand our code of honor. It doesn’t matter how many islands you buy or how much wealth you acquire, you will never be one of us. You will never be good enough to marry a Moretti.”
“I don’t think I’ve made myself clear,” Hadrian stated, his eyes turning feral. “Sterling will leave this island over my dead body.”
They continued to stare each other down, two allies who had become opponents.
Because of me.
Angelo turned his chin ever so slightly, diverting my attention.
In one expert, calculated move, Luca stood from his chair and darted toward Hadrian, striking him hard and fast in the throat. While Hadrian was stunned, Luca produced a syringe and plunged it into the side of Hadrian’s neck.
Hadrian’s left hand went to his throat as he gasped for air and after a few seconds, his eyes rolled into the back of his head. His palm slid from mine and I gulped in terror as his body slackened, slumping against the arm of his chair.
“What did you do?” I whispered in horror.
“He’ll live, Sterling. But you’re coming with us,” Angelo said, straightening the cuff of his shirt. “Nico?”
Before I knew what was happening, Nico all but launched himself toward me. His hand clamped around the back of my neck and he squeezed once hard enough to make me light-headed and then he let go. Then he tapped his thumb hard and fast against my temple.
Everything went dark.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I rolled over, expecting to feel Hadrian in bed next to me, but his side was cold—which suddenly made me lurch up in fear.
I was not in Hadrian’s bed.
I was no longer in Hadrian’s home.
My breaths came in spurts, and I focused on drawing air into my lungs. Terror, unlike anything I’d ever known before, pierced my soul.
Now I was under the control of my family—family that had driven my mother to flee her home. Family that had stood by and let my father be murdered in cold blood.
God, no.
I lifted my knees to my chest. I was on a comfortable four-poster wooden bed with blue and gold paisley drapes. A rope of golden threads kept the draperies from closing. I reached out to touch one of the tassels.
Hadrian.
I clenched my fist and shoved it in my mouth, biting down hard on my knuckles, refusing to scream.
Hadrian.
A bout of longing hit me so deep that it felt like it had cleaved me in half, and I sucked in a breath of air.
He had claimed me. He promised to protect me from my family. He would come for me.
All I had to do was hold on and trust him.
My heart stuttered in my chest, and then like a stick trapped in the spoke of a wheel, my world came to a grinding halt. A cold blanket of shock enveloped me.
It was as if I’d lived through enough tragedy, enough pain, enough guilt, and my mind had finally saidenough.
