Chapter 3

THREE

Angelo

Possession flows in my veins when I leave Sabella to dress and walk back to the party. The heady cocktail of ownership and responsibility sends a thrill through my body and rushes like a drug to my brain.

The sentiments are foreign and unexpected. I've taken care of our pets since a young age, but a human has never been dependent on me. Up to yesterday, Sabella Edwards was an abstract concept. I gambled with the element of surprise, and it's not shock that won. Far from it. What I saw pleased me. A lot. Seeing her triggered something in me. Marrying her is no longer a blurry picture with intangible edges. The prospect is real. She's not an image of a person with indistinguishable features. She's a young woman of flesh and blood, and a stunning one at that.

The knowledge that this beautiful girl is mine fills me not only with pride but also with a heavy dose of jealousy. She's a looker, and she doesn't know it. Not yet. Soon, however, she'll grow aware of her beauty and the power she can hold over men.

Take me, for example. Not even five minutes into meeting her, I've already broken my promise to myself. I've touched her when I knew better. She's an innocent girl with the curves of a woman. Only a dead man wouldn't notice those firm breasts, tight ass, and long legs. Her body is like a succulent fruit on the verge of ripening, soon to be ready for the picking.

The thought alone is enough to make me see green when I think about the distance I'll be putting between us tomorrow and how many horny boys may show up on her doorstep while I'm fighting this war with her father.

I'll have to send a man to keep an eye on her. Our most loyal and trusted man. The decision eases my worry, although only marginally.

Back on the front lawn, I look for my father among the throng of people. Finally, I spot him sitting on a bench in a secluded corner of the veranda. His face is as white as chalk, and he's coughing into his handkerchief.

Alarm triples my pulse. I make it to him in a few long strides and pour a glass of water from the nearest pitcher. Shoving the glass into his hand, I block him from potentially curious spectators with my body.

"Drink," I say, glancing around to gauge if anyone is looking, but no one takes notice.

He manages to swallow a sip, which helps to calm the coughing, and hands the glass back while resting his head on the wall and breathing through his mouth.

"Come." I put the glass on the table and take his arm, helping him to his feet. "Don't let them see you like this."

Unable to speak, he nods his agreement and lets me guide him back to the car. We're barely inside before another bout of coughing wracks his shoulders. I reach in the back for his inhaler, but he shakes his head.

"Leave it. It'll pass."

Stubborn bastard. "You have nothing to prove by refusing your medicine. No one will think you are weak for taking it."

He sucks air through his teeth and forces the words from a wheezy chest. "I just need a moment."

Arguing is fruitless. My father is nothing if not hardheaded and proud. I start the car and drive to the gates. At the intercom on the inside of the garden, I push the button. A beat later, the gates open as someone in the house, presumably one of the staff, lets us out.

Etiquette states leaving without saying goodbye to the host is an unforgivable rudeness, but Edwards declared himself our enemy, tonight, and you never show your enemy your weakness.

Keeping one eye on my father and the other on the road, I take the turn toward George. He winds down the window and takes a few deep breaths of the cool air. By the time the lights of the airport come into view, the attack has passed, and his muscles are slack again.

"You should call your doctor," I say. "You need to see him when we get home."

He dismisses the idea with a flick of his hand. "Nothing but a waste of time." Shooting me a look, he says, "Not a word about this to your mother."

"You shouldn't hide this from her."

"What's the point of making her worry? It's not going to change anything."

I clench the wheel. I both agree and disagree with that statement, but I respect his decision. It's what I would've wanted if I'd been in his position.

"I'm sorry," he says, staring through his window toward the distance where the hills swell in the moonlight.

It's such a rare occurrence for my father to apologize that I'm not sure how to reply. All I can say is, "It's not your fault."

His voice hardens. "I meant that we had to leave before Sabella made her appearance."

"I met her."

He looks at me.

"We ran into each other by accident," I explain. "She tried to slip into the back of the house without being noticed."

The corners of his mouth pull down. "She doesn't seem like a very obedient daughter."

Feeling compelled to defend her, I say, "She was rescuing an abandoned kitten."

He makes a noncommittal sound. "What was your impression?"

I consider my answer. "She likes me." Surprisingly. "I think I can make her fall in love with me. It won't be very difficult."

"Mm." He contemplates my answer, studying the road in the headlights of the car. "That will certainly win you her agreement to marry you, but emotions are fickle. You can't trust love alone to seal such an important deal. From what I've heard, she's close to her father. If he doesn't consent, she may refuse to marry you for not wanting to disappoint him or evoke his disapproval. If Edwards was the only stumbling block, it would've been easy enough to simply get rid of him, but if he dies before you've taken possession of your share of the company, Ryan will inherit everything. No," he muses. "We need Edwards to agree. We need a much stronger incentive than love."

I hit the brakes and slow down to the speed limit as we approach the golf estate. A guard signs us in at the gates.

Drumming my fingers on the wheel, I contemplate our situation. Edwards isn't pulling out of the deal he made only because he doesn't want his princess to marry a lowly, filthy Russo with blood and sins on his hands. Edwards doesn't want to share his power and fortune. He doesn't strike me as a man who'll give in easily. A little arm wrestling won't be enough to sway him. No. Edwards declared war, and war requires a much more radical approach. I won't rest until what's been promised me is mine.

I park in front of the hotel and cut the engine. My voice is flat, my mind made up. "Leave it to me. I'll handle Edwards."

"We have to call a meeting with your uncles. They should be involved."

Turning in my seat, I face my father. "Sabella is my responsibility. It's my problem, not a family matter."

"You're young. There's a lot about the business you've yet to learn. Edwards may look docile, but he's shrewder and more dangerous than you think."

I smile. "Then this is the perfect opportunity to prove my worth. You taught me. Now's a good time to show our family you trust me."

In the moonlight that sifts through the window, the shadows under his eyes are deep. "Fate is forcing you to take on too much, too soon. You shouldn't have to fill my shoes when your life is only starting. Let your uncles help."

"I'll deal with this my way. If it doesn't work out, we'll involve your brothers."

He chuckles and grips my shoulder. "There's no question about it. You're undoubtably my son." His expression sobers. "Don't underestimate Edwards. That will be a mistake."

"Don't worry." I open the door and get out. "I have no intention of making mistakes."

If Edwards thinks he's seen the worse of what and who we are, he's in for an unpleasant surprise. He unleashed the devil in me.

Soon enough, he'll face that monster.