His Wicked Ruin - Bonus Prologue - Faye Pierce

His Wicked Ruin – Bonus Prologue

Dante

My father’s study hasn’t changed in twenty years.

Same mahogany desk. Same leather chairs. Same smell of expensive scotch and cigar smoke that used to mean safety when I was a kid.

Now it just means another negotiation I didn’t ask for.

“The Bellandis have agreed.” Giulio pours himself a drink, not offering me one. He knows I don’t touch the stuff. “Caterina is eager. Massimo is pleased. The wedding can happen within six months.”

I stay seated. Keep my expression neutral. Give him nothing.

“No.”

His hand freezes on the crystal decanter. “Excuse me?”

“I said no.” I cross one ankle over my knee, settling deeper into the chair. “I’m not marrying Caterina Bellandi.”

“This isn’t a request, Dante.”

“And that wasn’t an answer.” I let a smile touch my lips—the cold one, the one that makes men twice my age step back. “Find someone else to auction off.”

The glass hits the desk hard enough to slosh scotch over the rim. Good. I like him rattled.

“You’re being childish.”

“I’m being strategic.” I stand, move to the window, look out at the gardens Mom used to tend before the scandal broke her. Before the bottles took over. Before I found her on the bathroom floor. “Caterina doesn’t want a husband. She wants a steppingstone. Someone to climb on her way to more power.”

“And what’s wrong with that? She’s ambitious. Connected. Beautiful—”

“She’s a viper in Prada.” I turn to face him. “And I refuse to be her ladder.”

“The alliance would strengthen both families—”

“Your family is in ruins because of your choices. Don’t pretend this is about strategy.” I take a step closer. Watch him flinch. “This is about you clawing at relevance. Using my position to rebuild what you destroyed.”

His face goes red. “Everything I did was for this family—”

“Everything you did backfired.” The words come out flat. Controlled. I learned long ago that rage is a weapon best served cold. “And Mom paid the price.”

Silence.

The clock on his desk ticks too loud in the quiet.

“She would have wanted this,” he says finally. “An alliance. A proper wife. Grandchildren—”

“Don’t.” My voice drops to something dangerous. “Don’t you dare tell me what she would have wanted. You weren’t there. You weren’t holding her hand while she choked on her own vomit. You weren’t watching her die because she couldn’t survive the shame you brought on this family.”

He goes pale. Good.

“I loved your mother—”

“You loved what she represented. Status. Respectability. A pretty face at your political dinners.” I straighten my cuffs. Adjust my jacket. Armor back in place. “When she needed you, you were too busy saving yourself from the scandal to notice she was drowning.”

“Dante—”

“This conversation is over.” I head for the door. “I’ll marry when I choose. Someone I choose. For reasons that benefit me, not your desperate attempt to stay relevant.”

“If you refuse this, you’re on your own.” His voice follows me. Desperate now. Pleading underneath the threat. “I won’t help you when Matteo’s enemies come calling. When the other families question your judgment—”

“I’ve been on my own since I was twenty-three.” I pause at the door. Don’t turn around. “Since I became the man you were too weak to be.”

I walk out.

The hallway is cool and quiet, my footsteps echoing on marble floors that used to feel like home. I’m halfway to the front entrance when I see her.

Caterina Bellandi.

She’s leaning against the banister at the top of the stairs, perfectly posed like she’s been waiting for her cue. White dress—virginal, calculated. Dark hair swept over one shoulder. Red lips curved into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Dante.” She descends the stairs with practiced grace, each step deliberate. “I heard raised voices. I take it the meeting didn’t go well?”

“You were listening.” Not a question.

“I was concerned.” She reaches the bottom step, close enough now that I can smell her perfume—something expensive and cloying that makes my jaw tight. “Your father means well, you know. He only wants what’s best for you.”

“What is best for him. And what he wants is irrelevant.” I move to step past her, but she shifts, blocking my path.

“We could be good together, Dante.” Her hand comes up, fingers trailing down my lapel. “Think about it. The Vitale and Bellandi families united. The power we’d wield. The empire we could build.”

I look down at her hand on my chest. “Remove it.”

“Don’t be like that.” She presses closer, and I can see the calculation behind her eyes. The same look a predator gets when it thinks it’s cornered prey. “I know your reputation. Cold. Controlled. Untouchable. But everyone has needs. I could satisfy those needs. Give you everything you want.”

“You have no idea what I want.”

“Don’t I?” Her voice drops, attempting sultry but landing on rehearsed. “I’ve done my research. I know about your… preferences. The control you like to maintain. I can be whatever you need me to be.”

The presumption of it—the arrogance—makes something cold settle in my chest.

“Let me be very clear.” I take her wrist and remove her hand from my chest with enough force to make my point. “I don’t want you. I don’t want your family’s connections. I don’t want an alliance built on ambition and manipulation. And I certainly don’t want a wife who thinks she can mold herself into whatever she thinks I’ll fuck.”

Her smile falters. Good.

“You’re making a mistake,” she says, voice hardening. “My father—”

“Your father is a means to an end. Useful for now. But if you think I’ll tie myself to you to maintain that usefulness, you’re more delusional than I thought.”

Color rises in her cheeks—anger finally breaking through the practiced seduction. “You’ll regret this.”

“I doubt it.”

“You need me more than you know.” She steps back, composure cracking at the edges. “The other families talk. They question your judgment. Your legitimacy. A marriage to me would silence those doubts. Give you the respectability—”

“I don’t need respectability from people whose opinions I don’t value.” I straighten my cuffs, dismissing her. “And I certainly don’t need a wife who views marriage as a business transaction.”

“That’s what all marriages are in our world.” Her laugh is bitter. “Love is a liability. Sentiment gets people killed. You know that.”

“I know that settling for someone I despise is worse than being alone.”

The words land like a slap. I see it in the way her eyes flash, the way her perfectly manicured hands curl into fists.

“I could make your life very difficult, Dante.” The threat is barely veiled now. “My family has resources. Connections. Ways of making problems for people who refuse us.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” I take a step toward her, and she actually backs up. “I’ve rebuilt my family’s name from ashes. Survived scandals that would have destroyed lesser men. Carved out power in a world that wanted me to fail. Do you really think I’m afraid of a spoiled mafia princess whose biggest accomplishment is looking good at charity galas?”

Her face goes white with rage.

“You’re going to regret rejecting me,” she hisses. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Get in line.” I move past her, done with this conversation. “There are plenty of people who want to see me fail. You’ll have to wait your turn.”

I don’t look back as I walk out the front door.