The Scandal Behind The Italian's Wedding. Millie AdamsЧитать онлайн книгу.

      She had done it. In a panic, she had done it, and Violet had been more than happy to allow her to step up and make the announcement because Violet loved nothing more than a spectacle.

      Well, Min had promised her spectacle. She had delivered.

      And now, in the limo, after the announcement was done, Violet had exploded.

       “Dante?”

      “Yes,” Minerva said, lying through her teeth and feeling more and more terrified by the moment.

       “Dante? Dante slept with you?”

      She couldn’t work out if Violet was shocked because Minerva was not the sort of woman Dante typically went for, or if Violet was angry that Dante had touched her, or if Violet was angry because she was... Well, maybe a little bit jealous.

      Violet was the great beauty in the family, there was no questioning that. Minerva wasn’t much at all. She never had been.

      Until she had returned from a trip overseas with a baby. And then speculation about her had begun to swirl. She should have known there would be no avoiding rumors. She should have known that avoiding the press would be impossible. She should have known that every jerk with a smartphone would try to take her and Isabella’s picture, and that those pictures would be posted everywhere, for anyone in the world to see. And that Carlo would see them. And he would suspect.

      And once she had gotten the threatening text, she knew that she had to act.

      She was in danger. Isabella was in danger.

      She didn’t believe that Katie’s overdose had been purely accidental, and she never would. Carlo was the kind of man who had access to all sorts of things, and her friend had been terrified during those last days of her life. Because he had found them.

      It had been so simple for a while, to stay under the radar in Europe. Minerva wasn’t a particularly famous face, in spite of her connection to the King family, and outside the United States nobody ever gave her a second glance. If she had been with Violet, everyone would have recognized them.

      But on her own, she was just a university student. The same with her friend and roommate.

      But clearly, Carlo had figured out who she was, and where she was.

      And worse, where Isabella was.

      She had no choice but to tell this lie. To throw him off the scent.

      Because this baby could not be Carlo’s baby. Not if it was hers. Not if it was Dante’s.

      There was a reason the deception about Isabella had been so paramount when she had first come home. That she insisted the child was hers.

      Everyone had believed it. And she had thought it would be enough. It was one reason she hadn’t worried over much when photographs of herself and Isabella had begun circulating.

      She had never slept with Carlo. Therefore, any child of hers could not be a child of his. And besides, she was used to her superpower. Invisibility.

      A wren among a gaggle of peacocks, Minerva was simply accustomed to being forgotten. She didn’t imagine for a moment that Carlo would remember her face. He had only seen her a handful of times during the time she’d spent studying in Rome. And he had been entirely focused on Katie.

      But clearly, he had begun to piece things together.

      And so...

      And so.

      She had promised her sister a show. She had delivered.

      But she did not seem pleased.

      “Dad is going to kill him,” Violet said.

      “Do you think so?” Her father had responded to her return with a baby in an extremely sanguine manner. As far as Robert King was concerned, as long as none of his children were crack addicts he had done fine enough.

      She had asked him if it bothered him. That she had a child without a partner.

      He’d said: “Why would I mind? You’re not a teenager, and you have the money to take care of her. It’s not like the house isn’t big enough.”

      And that had been the end of it.

      She couldn’t imagine he would be angry simply because the baby was Dante’s.

      Dante, on the other hand...

      She could only hope that he was somewhere far afield. On the East Coast. In his New York office. Perhaps he would be in Frankfurt or Milan.

      Just so long as he wasn’t...

      The limo pulled up to the front of the King family mansion, and all of Minerva’s hopes and dreams were dashed when she saw him standing there.

      Her heart nearly lurched up her throat and out of her mouth.

      She had forgotten.

      How imposing he was. How large.

      How utterly, devastatingly handsome.

      Which was ridiculous, because she had seen him only a month earlier.

      She could still remember the awkward, horrible dance at one of her father’s parties. Her biggest crush ever had only agreed to be her date for a dare. To see the inside of the infamous King mansion and to report back to friends at school.

      Dante had taken hold of her after Bradley had embarrassed her, and held her close, shielding her from curious eyes. He’d been so strong and solid, and all the anguish and shame inside her had caught fire and burned hot. It had been so embarrassing but she’d also been unable to pull away from him.

      But he’d been pity dancing with her. He’d added to the confusion of...everything.

      And compared to Bradley’s bony shoulders, Dante’s had felt so broad and solid.

      It had all been weird.

      Even with that she could forget.

      But she didn’t think that the impact of a man like Dante Fiori could live in its genuine state inside a woman, or anyone. You would die of it.

      It became clear only in person.

      He had always made her feel small. Rattled.

      She had the tendency to run at the mouth whenever he was around. He made her stomach feel like it was quivering.

      She disliked it intensely. And yet, she had always felt drawn to him like he was a magnet. She had always felt compelled to get a response out of him. To go to him. And she could no more understand any of those tendencies then she could understand quantum physics.

      Which was to say: not at all.

      “He is unhappy,” Violet said softly.

      “Well... He’ll just have to deal with it.”

      Minerva lifted her chin, affecting a posture of determination she did not feel. Her brother appeared behind Dante, and behind him was her father.

      Everybody did look remarkably unhappy.

      Min was not accustomed to being the source of people’s unhappiness. She was used to being ignored, and when she’d shown up with her parents’ first grandchild, they’d been happy.

      No one looked happy now.

      The car stopped, and Dante didn’t wait. He marched over to the car and jerked the door open.

      And she found herself face-to-face with his stormy black gaze.

      It was fathomless. As if she could look all the way down into the depths of his soul. Into the depths of hell itself.

      She knew the things they said about him. That when her father had encountered him in Rome when he was a boy, Dante had been attempting