can’t prove it, not yet, but—it wasn’t him.”
“So?” Petro’s voice was neutral.
“Before I say anything to Milady Angelina, I want to be able to prove to her that it wasn’t Caesare. I want everything clean between us.”
Dell’este honor.
He sighed. “I want her making her choices without any lies. I messed her up with lies before; I don’t want to do it again. If she knows the truth—she might make different choices. And that’s her right.”
Petro folded his arms across his chest; the sky behind him deepened to blue and the first stars sprinkled across it. “I can respect that,” he said, a certain warmth coming into his voice. “I can respect that and I can understand that. Of course as the head of family, I can tell you that Aldanto will never be acceptable to Dorma. And you know that I serve as one of the Signori di Notte. Since Lord Calenti’s death we know the damned lotos trade has started up again. Even if it was not my mother, I’d want to know. Because it is . . . I want to know badly. Very well—you seek your proofs and I’ll see about getting you moved out of Dorma so that you can have your time to think. But please. The wedding has to be soon.”
“Thank you, milord,” Marco replied quietly and turned to go.
“Marco—”
He stopped and turned back.
He could just see Petro’s smile in the blue dusk.
“You are part of our secrets. Therefore, you are part of us. Whatever decision you make regarding a marriage to my sister—welcome to Casa Dorma, ep