“You are such an ass.”
“Now you’re catching on.”
Fury spiked through her. She wanted to dig her fingers into his stubborn face until she stole his soul from his body, once and for all. Ghiotte or no, he wouldn’t stand a chance.
She stormed out instead. Any would-be assassin who chose this moment to attack her would lose.
For five lonely years she’d told herself it was only her gift and her position that kept everyone away. That if anyone spent time with her, then, surely, they would care about her. Not the Finestra or the savior. Her. Alessa.
But Dante had heard it all, and he didn’t care. He was only there because she paid him to be, and she was so pathetic she couldn’t tell the difference between a friend and an employee.
She needed air. She needed to escape.
At the sound of voices ahead, she ducked inside the darkened kitchens.
From the thickest shadows, someone hissed her name. Not her title. Her name.
A dark figure stalked toward her.
She backed away, feeling behind herself for the open door. Instead, her hands met the hard muscle of Dante’s thigh.
“For Crollo’s sake, there you—” he started to say, before swiftly lunging around her to shove the shadowy form against the wall. A blade flashed in the dim light from the hall, and the intruder yelped.
Alessa knew that yelp. “Stop!” she cried out. “It’s my brother!”
For a second, she thought Dante would slice his throat anyway, but he stepped back, knife pointed at Adrick’s chest.
“Adrick, what are you doing here?” Alessa demanded.
“What is he doing?” Adrick retorted. “He’s not a Fonte.”
“He’s my guard.”
Adrick raked Dante with a skeptical look. “Half dressed?”
Dante had grabbed a shirt before following her, but only a few of the buttons were fastened.
Dante’s eyebrows lowered. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Yeah, it is.” Adrick’s eyes narrowed.
“Dante, could you give us a minute?”
Dante’s glare deepened. “Yell if you need me.”
Adrick stepped forward, the faint light from the French doors to the gardens illuminating his face as he cast a furtive glance around the dark, quiet kitchen.
“Adrick, how did you get inside?”
He rubbed his hands on his pants. “I know someone. Who is that guy? Didn’t he fight at the docks at one point?”
Alessa sighed loudly. “I told you, Dante is my guard. And yes, he used to fight at the Barrel. Enough stalling. What was going on today? Who tried to poison me? And why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
“Look, it doesn’t matter right now.”
“Doesn’t matter? Because it looks to me like you made Papa’s special cookies and gave them to someone who added poison to them and delivered them here so I would get sick or die. And you aren’t even slightly surprised. Why?”
Adrick seemed to steel himself. “I’ll explain after you tell me if you have a Fonte. Is it working?”
She jerked back. “Yes. Sort of. It’s complicated.”
“It’s a simple question.”
She crossed her arms. “It’s a complicated answer.”
“So, no, then. And everyone here knows it, so you had to hire a thug from the docks to be your hired muscle.” His face twisted like he was fighting a laugh, and Alessa waited for the punch line, but he choked on a sob. “You’ve tried, but there’s no time left.”
“You’re giving up on me? Really? Adrick, I am trying so damn hard—”
“I know. I know you’re trying.” Adrick’s hoarse whisper faded into defeat. “You always are. Trying to cook dinner and burning everything, so we have to eat watered down soup instead. Trying to write the perfect essay for homework, then forgetting it at home so I have to retrieve it for you and get in trouble. Trying to be Finestra and killing your Fontes instead, leaving me to do the work of two people and jeopardizing all our lives.”
Every word sliced another wound that would never heal. A lifetime of guilt and embarrassment thrown in her face, and it only hurt more that it seemed to pain him to say it.
She was a burden. A screwup. And Adrick knew better than anyone, because he’d been there, cleaning up after her.
“I’m sorry.” Adrick’s face had never looked so drawn and serious. “But there aren’t points for effort in this. I don’t want this any more than you do, but I … I think, maybe, that’s why I’m here. Maybe the whole reason I was born.” Tears glittered in his eyes as he pulled a small bottle from his pocket.