Chapter 11 - The Lion’s Den
We had barely reached the bottom of the stairs when the crowd parted.
Julian stood near the champagne tower, holding a glass so tightly his knuckles were white. He was sweating, his eyes darting nervously around the room. But when he saw me—when he saw the sheer back of my dress and the scars he had helped create—his face drained of all color.
“Well, well,” Julian slurred slightly, trying to project a confidence he didn't possess. He took a step toward us. “The prodigal sister. I see your new master bought you a shiny dress. Pity he couldn't afford to cover up your flaws.”
My heart hammered against my ribs, the old terror trying to claw its way up my throat. But before I could even flinch, Luca moved.
He didn't yell. He didn't draw a weapon. He simply stepped smoothly in front of me, placing his massive body entirely between me and my brother.
“Julian,” Luca said, his voice a low, lethal hum that carried across the abruptly quiet ballroom. “I strongly suggest you lower your eyes when speaking to my wife. Or I will remove them.”
Julian scoffed nervously, looking around for his own guards. “Come on, Morretti. She’s Vance blood. I can speak to my sister however I want.”
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Luca’s hand shot out like a striking viper. He grabbed Julian by the throat, lifting him an inch off the marble floor with a single hand. Gasps echoed through the room. Champagne glasses shattered as guests backed away in terror.
“She is a Morretti now,” Luca snarled directly into Julian’s terrified face. “And if you ever breathe in her direction again, I won't just break the peace treaty. I will break every bone in your pathetic body.”
