Chapter 4

I grab one of the books I’d been reading, the promise, and settle against the headboard. We don't have a phone. I won’t even know how to use one. I have only seen them in passing. If we have one, I will check on him.

Maybe another alpha attacked him. Maybe he is injured somewhere right now. This isn't like him.

I can’t focus on the page, too tired to stay awake and worry. Not long after my back hit the mattress, I drift off.

Only to startle awake at three in the morning. Dante is in bed beside me, his face turned away.

I almost reach out to wake him, demand where he was, but I have to be up in an hour and my body still feels wrecked. I let sleep take me again.

When I wake at four thirty, Dante is gone. His side of the bed was cold.

I groan, sit up and stare at the clock for several seconds. Did I imagine him coming back? Did he even come home at all?

That is worse. I need to find Salvatore. Check if Dante has gone to the shop. See if something happened.

I grab some clothes in a rush, pull them on backwards, and hurry out of the room.

The house is still dark. I nearly trip on the stairs as I fly down them, cross the floor, and shove the front door open, screen and all.

Someone is smoking on the porch.

I nearly scream.

But no one else has that tall, broad frame except Dante. He looks menacing in the dark like that.

“What are you doing out here?” I gasp, my heart racing one step out of my chest.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, flicking the cigarette away after blowing it out. I thought he’d quit smoking. “Is it four already?” he asks.

“Four thirty. God.” I step closer. “I was about to wake Salvatore looking for you.”

“Don’t do that,” he says gruffly, his voice oddly deeper. The smoke maybe. Or something else. “He and I aren’t close like that.”

“He’s your best friend,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“My best friend who has the hots for you,” he adds.

I laugh despite myself. “You’re ridiculous. Salvatore’s still mourning his mate. He doesn’t have the heart for anyone else.”

“Yeah,” he relents. “Are you getting ready for work already?” He drapes an arm over my shoulders and pulls me into his side. “You look exhausted. You should sleep some more.”

“Sleep, and where would we get the money for the wedding?” I feel his body stiffen. “I’ll sleep the second we’re married.”

“Cici,” he says, then goes quiet.

“What?” I frown up at his shadowed face.

“The wedding,” he continues slowly. “If it’s becoming too much… maybe we should postpone it.”

My heart nearly drops straight out of my chest. “What?” I shrug out of his hold.

“It was just a suggestion,” he says, lifting his hands in surrender.

But it isn't a suggestion he has ever made before. Not once in all ten times we’d planned this wedding has Dante been the one to call it off.

The shock hits me so hard I forget how to breathe.

“Why would you say that?” I ask. “You know how important this is to me, to my family.”

“Yes, I know.” He takes my hand. “But, Cici, I would hate to marry you with your own money.”

“You didn’t hate it before,” I snap, yanking my hand free. “What changed?”

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “I just want us to start this at the right time.”

“No.” I shake my head, so confused I almost can’t speak. “What do you mean start this? What are you keeping from me? Yesterday everyone gathered in front of the house because of something. What was it?”

I grab the front of his shirt, forcing him to look at me, like I could dig the truth out of his eyes.

“Is there another woman?” I blurt out.

I wait for denial.

But Dante looks away. He doesn't say a word.

He can be stubborn like that, once he decides something, no amount of pleading can move him.

“There is another woman,” I nearly raised my voice despite trying everything to control it. I force it back down. If Celeste and Andre come outside now, they’ll turn this into a spectacle, and I wouldn't survive that. “Isn’t there?”

“It’s…” Dante hesitates. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh God.” I turn away, but he catches my shoulder and spins me back around.

“It’s not like that,” he says firmly, stepping closer.

“Then what is it?”

He exhales hard, drags a hand through his hair, and steps back. “I thought it would never happen. They always said it would, that I’d eventually meet them, but I didn’t know it would…”

“What happened?” I feel this strange, cold air circling my heart and almost can't breathe, like my body already knows before my mind does.

“I met her,” he says quietly. “Luciana.”

“So there is another woman.” The words leave my mouth without weight, like I haven't caught up to them yet.

“Not another woman,” he corrects. “Just… the woman.” He finally meets my eyes. “My mate, Cici. My fated mate. Her name is Luciana.”

And suddenly, everything makes sense:

Why we failed ten times. Why his parents kept canceling. Why the wedding was always just out of reach.

They knew. I was just a temporary situation.