Chapter 1

JULIAN’S POV

The devil I know is better than the angel I didn't. Problem is, I didn't know any angels. Born into a life like this, there were just devils and devils and they showed up when you least expected.

Tonight's surprise was Dante Martinez. He arrived at dinner fifteen years late with a suit that must have cost a fortune. The moment he walked into the room, the air thickened like even oxygen was scared of him.

“Dante,” My mother said in a strangled voice. Her hand trembled slightly as she lifted her wine glass to her mouth. My father who had leaned back in a posture mum had always complained about suddenly sat upright, straightening his back. His eyes followed Dante as he took a seat. It felt like God had walked into the room except that I had imagined God as anything but a six foot, fully tatted, dark-haired man.

My eyes followed his every move the second he walked through those doors. His long strides, the way he loosened his tie and undid the button of his suit as he took his seat across from me. He was nothing like I remembered. The Dante I remembered was a lanky teenager who I begged to play soccer with me. He had always been quiet. Never said much but moved around with the air of someone who knew he would be touched by something dangerous.

Now with a hair nicely slicked back, eyes darker than ink and an aura that felt like he could command the paints to strip off our walls, he sat quietly across me. He leaned into the chair and scanned everyone's faces like he was trying to remember us. It's been fifteen years after all.

Father cleared his throat. “Dante.”

“Aldo,” Dante leaned in, an amused smirk on his face as if they were sharing a private joke. He got up briefly and brushed a kiss across my mother's cheek.

“You are late for dinner,” Dad said flatly, like Dante had always showed up for dinner.  

“How many minutes?” He brought his watch up to the table. “Fifteen?” He raised his watch.

Mum chuckled awkwardly. “Let us eat. We don't want the food to get cold.”

She pushed her chair back and started serving everyone. The honeyed roasted duck gleamed under the lights as mother cut into it. Potatoes swam in bother and the red wine shimmered. Mother made sure everyone's plate was full but I couldn't help but notice how her hands shook. I wanted to reach across the table and hold them. We finally settled for dinner and for minutes the sounds of cutlery against plates and glasses clattering was the only sound that filled the dining room.

“Business has been good,” Father suddenly said. “You must have heard.”

Dante focused on his duck, carefully slicing through it. I held my breath waiting for his response to father. Instead, he turned to my mother. “The meat is very tender and spicy. Just the way I like it. You must have known I was going to show up today. Didn't you?”

“No one knows with you, Dante.”

“Oh stop,” He smiled and returned his attention to his plate. I saw how Dad’s hand tightened around his cutlery.

Dante picked up his glass and emptied the content down his throat.

“Whispers have reached me,” He said without taking his eyes off his plate. “Interestingly, what reached me first was not how well business was going. It was the enemies you've made along the way.”

He sliced through a potato. “News like that travel faster than profit margins, you know? Enemies.”

His words hung over us like an accusation. Dad's jaw ticked. I suddenly felt heat up my collars. I kept my eyes on my plate pretending to be more interested in the buttered potatoes and duck than in this quiet violence simmering around me.

“The food is great, Mum,” I finally said. She smiled at me and pressed my palms to her chest.

“Thank you, darling.”

I wanted to keep my head down and eyes on my plate but the pair of eyes accessing me across the table wasn't going to make that easy. The gaze pressed against me in a way that made me feel suffocated. When I finally dared to look up, he was watching me closely. Dante had his eyes fixed on me.

It was not a casual look or one of curiousity. His eyes lingered like I was something he was unraveling. I suddenly felt bare and my pulse jumped. A warm feeling coiled in my stomach. This was wrong. I bit on my lower lips and focused on my food and gripped my fork so hard. I tried to focus on the plate in front of me but my palms grew sweaty by the minute.  

Mum picked up her glass and took a long sip, her eyes lingering between me and Dante.

“Julian’s internship starts soon,” She said in a voice that was unnecessarily bright. Her eyes thinned as she smiled. “We are very proud of him.”

She reached across the table for my hand. Father grunted in approval while nodding his head carefully. He didn't say he was proud. He never did. Pride was too soft an emotion for a man like him to express.

Dante arched a brow and chewed slowly. “An internship where?”

“A law firm in the city,” Mother's smile widened. “Very prestigious. A place for top students.”

“Considering our family, a world class lawyer is a good idea. Yes?”

He was talking to Mother but he didn't take his eyes off me. I felt my skin grow hot.

“Actually,” Mother stuttered. “I would not want him involved in family business.”

I noticed the look Dad gave her but I pretended not to.

“Where does he plan to stay?” Dante asked, completely ignoring what Mum had just said.

“Wherd do you plan to stay?” He asked me before Mum could respond. Those were the first words he had spoken to me.

My throat went dry. “Rentals. I've been making inquires.” The words poured out of my mouth like they were desperate to fall out.

He clicked his tongue. “Rentals are expensive and still have poor living conditions most times.”

Mother laughed. “I’ve been trying to tell him that. You'll be better off living with family, Julian.”

I froze. My chest tightened. What family? I didn't know any family around there and I had no intention to live with strangers.

“Dante has a penthouse in the city. Don't you, Dante?”

He nodded.

“And it's just a bus from the firm.”

She said with the air of someone who had decided. The table stilled and the clatter of cutlery against the plates stopped. Father did not object but his mouth thinned. Dante leaned back in his chair and picked up his wine glass. He tilted it towards Mother.

“If that's what you want, Orabella.”

“Thank you, Dante.”

I sat still in my chair like my future had not just been decided. The food I was trying to swallow lurched forward and suddenly tasted like paper. My fork moved and the food found its way to my mouth but I couldn't taste anything anymore.

His eyes were still on me. I didn't dare to look back but I hated how it made me feel. It was too close to sin. Dante shouldn't make me feel this way. He was family but unfortunately, the delicious lick in my stomach didn't know that.