“And what about you?” I ask viciously, my fingers itching to throw the contents of my champagne glass on him. “You’re so eager to sacrifice yourself?”
“I’m being practical,” he says coldly. “I don’t want this marriage any more than you do. The thought of being tied to a Santoro for the rest of my life makes me want to put a bullet in my head. But I’m also not stupid enough to start a war over my personal preferences.”
“How generous of you,” I say sarcastically.
“Isn’t it?” His smile is knife-sharp, the scar on his cheek more pronounced. He leans in uncomfortably close again and it takes everything in me to not take a step back. “Tell me, princess—are you brave enough to watch Emma die? Your niece? All because you were too proud to do what needed to be done?”
His eyes rake over me again, that same dismissive assessment. “So what’s it going to be, princess? Are you going to do the smart thing? Or are you going to let your pride get people killed?”
My whole body is hot with fury. “You smug, self-righteous bastard,” I snarl. “Standing there acting like you’re so goddamnselfless, like you’re making some great sacrifice. You’re just as trapped as I am.”
“Never said I wasn’t.” He shrugs. “But at least I’m not delusional enough to think I have a choice.”
“And I’m not pathetic enough to just roll over and accept it,” I snap back. “Unlike you, apparently.” A thought comes to me and I seize it. “Tell me, Brennan—does Connor have your balls in a vice, or did you hand them over willingly?”
His jaw clenches and I can’t stop my smug smile. Got him.
“Careful, Santoro,” he warns. “You’re not in a position to throw insults.”
“I’m not?” My laugh is cruel. “We’re in exactly the same position. We’re both being used as pawns by our families and both of us are too weak to say no.”
Cillian’s nostrils flare. “I’m being pragmatic?—”
“You’re being a coward,” I interrupt viciously. “Hiding behind duty and family loyalty because you’re too afraid to actually fight for what you want. At least have the balls to admit it.”
His pupils dilate and his face pinkens with growing anger.Gotcha, you bastard.
“You want to talk about cowardice?” Cillian snaps. “You’re the one who’s lived your whole life in your brother’s shadow. You’re playing at being important while Leo does all the real work. What have you ever done for your family except look pretty at parties and spend their money?”
The insult is everything I’ve already thought of myself, but I let it roll off me.
Breathe, Valentina. Breathe.
“More than you’ve ever done, I’m sure,” I say sweetly. “Though I suppose it’s easy to coast on Connor’s reputation.” I take a step toward him, wanting to gain ground. “Tell me, do you have any accomplishments that are actually yours? Or are you just the spare heir who gets trotted out when Connor needs someone to do his dirty work?”
His smile makes every alarm bell toil loudly in my brain, but I’m past the point of no return. “You really want to play this game, princess?”
I grin at him, showing all my teeth. “Bring it, Brennan. I’ve dealt with far more intimidating men than you.”
“I doubt that,” he says coldly. “You’ve been sheltered your whole life. Protected. Kept safe in your pretty little tower while the real players handle business. What could you possibly know about real sacrifice? About real duty?”
“What do you know about me?” I shoot back. “Nothing. You don’t know anything about my life or what I’ve done or what I’m capable of. You took one look at me and decided I was some spoiled mob princess who’s never had to fight for anything.” I glare at him. “Well fuck you, Brennan. You don’t know me.”
“Don’t I?” His lip curls. “I know your type. All beauty, no substance. All talk, no action. You’ll marry me because when it comes down to it, you don’t have the guts to do anything else.”
“And you?” I take another step closer to him, knowing that we’re probably attracting a lot of attention. “You’ll marry me because Connor tells you to. You’re a good little soldier who follows orders. At least I’m being honest that this is extortion. You’re trying to dress it up as duty.”
We’re inches apart now, glaring at each other, both breathing hard from the verbal sparring.
“I despise you,” he says quietly, and there’s real venom in it.
“The feeling is entirely mutual,” I assure him, glad we are on the same page. “In fact, I think I hate you more than I’ve ever hated anyone in my entire life.”
“Good.” His eyes are death. “Because I’d hate for this marriage to be based on anything resembling affection.”
A bitter laugh tears out of me. “Trust me, there’szerodanger of that.” I bare my teeth in something that’s not quite a smile. “The day I feel affection for a Brennan is the day hell freezes over.”
He turns to leave, then pauses before he looks back at me over his shoulder.