na

s red. Not just red-it was

re's

birthday gala. He wanted to parade me around like a trophy,

s on the bed, a poo

ut a vintage Givenchy gown. High

yx black. The co

rcase, the chatter in the ballroo

rs, a glass of scotch in his hand.

she was we

e. I looked like the widow

. His eyes darkened, cold and letha

" he said when I rea

ud enough for the Underbos

asked, clutching Dante'

riage,"

ssing hard into the sensitive nerve. "S

r the room

ed me into the crowd. For

ll away. But every time Dante turned his head, his eyes sought out

o the terrace. The night air wa

embarras

around. I kn

ainst the stone balustrade, her white dr

that dress

I said. "He hates betrayal.

just moving on. You were a rescue dog. He felt good saving you. But n

se under my arm. Inside was a small, f

said, my voice low

fume cloying and sweet. "He told me what those men did to you. How used you wer

she knew. Which meant he had told her. He had shared

my vision blurr

d back at the glass doors. The party was

a wicked, tw

this,"

the clutch. She dug her nails in. Then, with a sudd

she popped the clasp a

uld process what was happening, she sla

welled up instantly, stark and s

as a bloodcurdling

Dante!

my feet and collapsed