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“If you’ll excuse me,” I say. “I need to change.”
“I just want to get this over with,” she says in a rush.
I don’t ask her, “Which this?” There is only one thing on her mind, same as it’s occupied my mind. Her claiming, and my conquest. If she’s asking for forgiveness, she’s barking up the wrong tree.
Even during the best part of my day, which is normally the morning, I have little compassion for anyone. Now, toward thenight, I’m as compassionate as Alexander the Great’s invading army. I can’t afford sympathy or empathy or whatever they’re calling feelings these days.
If I show mercy, the people I deal with would end me and all mine, including my little niece so that she couldn’t claim the family throne one day. Being at the head of an Order as powerful as the Serpentine takes courage and ruthlessness.
“I’m staying at?—”
Cristina cuts me off. “I know where you’re staying.”
I smile. “Are you stalking me?”
My humor surprises her, and her eyes widen before she shakes her head.
“This is not Paris, monsieur. On Isola Serenella, we all know each other, and the joining of our two families is a major event.” She points up, indicating the wedding reception. “Besides, I work here.”
“What do you do at the hotel?” I ask.
“I’m a chef.”
“I’m fond of that profession,” I say.
She pats her thigh. “I’m fond of food.”
I chuckle, liking how she brought up her wide hips and likely thick thighs with grace and humor and not distaste.
On the camera that I left on the stroller, I see the guests starting to get up from the tables and making their way down the path toward the beach. I’m shirtless and alone with the woman who others think is my uncle’s new bride, while my security team blocks the narrow and very private path.
I want a minute longer, so the party people will have to wait. My guards as unmoving as a living wall.
Cristina points at the crowd. “They think I’ve gone down to watch the fireworks that’ll start any moment.” She bites her lip, and when I don’t respond, she continues, “Are you going to letthe people through?” She clutches her hands together as the eager mob tries to make its way down.
“No.”
“But—”
Fireworks explode over the waves in front of me. The crowd cheers, no longer protesting the blockade because the view is even better from where they stand.
Cristina watches the fireworks.
And I watch her.
3
THE LAMB
CRISTINA
The Mancini ancestor who fled Sicily for Switzerland in search of a life where his family wouldn’t be hunted by enemies and allies alike founded the Serpentine Order sometime around the mid-fourteenth century. The mission was simple: prosper through stability and peace. The Order’s structure was also simple, modeled after the basic anatomy of the serpent: Head, Body, and the tip of the tail, which the Order calls the Rattle.
Most of the members make up the Body, which serves the Head, and the members of the Head come from the Mancini family. Since Grandpa Mancini fathered two sons, Severio’s dad and Uncle Gio both inherited the Order. The Mancini family tradition dictated that brothers should be the Head of the Order; thus, according to Gio, once his brother died, the leadership should’ve stayed solely with Gio.
But Severio strong-armed him out of the picture, and Gio never recovered. He wants to become the Head. Even now, after Severio disrupted our wedding as a show of force.
The Mancinis remind me of royal families. Or crime lords, to those of us in the know. The fact that Gio is also a political leader in our small country should’ve been a red flag for my father.Nevertheless, my dad joined the Order, brought in my mother, then died of a heart attack.
