A Dance of War by Ellie R. Hunter

Author:Ellie R. Hunter [R. Hunter, Ellie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-24T16:00:00+00:00

The papers laid out before me, placed on my desk by Cristian last week, don’t hold the satisfaction they once did. Plans and drawings for a new apartment building in the middle of the city would bring in millions of dollars. Plans that Mila never failed to block, as she was always against my moves to modernise the city.

Reaching for the decanter, I go to pour myself some whiskey, not caring to drink leisurely measures for the early hour, when a soldier knocks and steps into my office.

“I thought you’d like to know, Cristian is sleeping, and the doctor assures he’ll make a full recovery.”

I nod, expecting him to leave, but he hovers by the door.

“What is it?”

“Father DiMarco is here, wishing to speak with you. I showed him into the parlour.”

Once he leaves, I push up out of my chair and inhale deeply, though it doesn’t help. No matter how deep I dig to pull a deep breath from my lungs, it never comes.

The lack of care in my appearance around my men is one thing, but to show anything less than perfection in front of people outside of them is another.

Looking in the mirror hanging over the open fire, I run my fingers through my hair before trying to slap some life into my cheeks.

Father DiMarco has made himself comfortable in my mother’s favourite armchair, one she would sit on while reading to us when we were young. I hold my tongue when he smiles at me, but it’s not warm, nor is it friendly.

“Since I’ve arrived in Vita, I’ve made it my mission, so to speak, to delve into your history,” he starts, not bothering with greetings. “Two families at war, fighting for power. Then, two babies are born on the same night, at the same time. Yet, instead of working to come together to bring peace, you killed her.”

I go to object, but he raises his hand to stop me. “I know it was you who killed her. The people of this city know, and more importantly, He”—DiMarco points to the heavens—“knows you killed her. You were both so blinded by your deep-rooted hatred, you couldn’t tell when the attacks were coming from elsewhere, both of you so quick to pass judgement on the other.”

Motherfucker.

Wanting to see where he’s going with this, I bite my tongue. He’s obviously here to show me his hand, so the least I can do is allow it.

“The attacks after last year’s peace ball. The slaying of Jamila’s man, Michael Romano, and your sinful brother, Leo Marocchi, I claim them all.”

Lurching toward him, he once again holds up his hand, warning, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I have measures in place to take you down if I don’t walk out of here alive.”

Rage boils inside of me. He has the audacity to sit in my house, claiming the deaths of my men, the murder of my brother, and expect me not to react?

“I’ll take my chances,” I growl, taking another step.

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