Home > The Werewolf Prince and I (The Moretti Werewolf #1)(55)

The Werewolf Prince and I (The Moretti Werewolf #1)(55)
Author: Marian Tee

~~~

When Misty rejoined Dio and Aurelius, a sense of excitement had swept into the crowd. A new group of guests had apparently arrived, creating a sensation.

And then she saw Domenico walking into the room with a woman at his side.

Their eyes met.

She saw shock and something else in his eyes that she did not want to think about.

Misty forced herself to smile. Nothing was going on between them. She had to believe that.

Domenico disentangled himself from Rafaella as quickly as good manners permitted and went to Misty.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he said fiercely.

She looked into his eyes and believed him.

From across the room, Rafaella saw the love shining in Misty’s eyes. Oh, no. That would not be there later on. Domenico was hers. She bided her time, waiting for the two to separate, and of course they would for Domenico was a famous figure among them. When he was taken away by other council members, she swiftly crossed the room and stood in front Domenico’s wife.

Misty’s smile froze when she realized who it was standing before her. She said softly, “Hello.”

“You know me then?”

“Of course. Domenico’s told me about you.”

Rafaella smirked. “I’m sure he did.”

Misty chose not to say anything.

“You do know that Domenico married you to spite his father, didn’t you?”

“It was mentioned that was a possibility yes, but it doesn’t matter now.” Misty did not hold it against Domenico. Their marriage might have had the wrong reasons at the start but now, it was fine because they loved each other.

Incensed that she wasn’t getting the reaction she was hoping for, Rafaela tried to look for another way to attack. “When you serve your purpose, you’ll know he’ll drop you like he dropped me.”

Lifting her chin, Misty said, “No, he won’t.”

“He was supposed to marry me, but then he chose you because you’re the perfect little innocent pawn he could use to shore up alliances with other packs,” Rafaella hissed.

Domenico suddenly materialized at their side. “Rafaella---”

Both women ignored him.

Misty said steadily, “If I’ve been of help to him in any way then I’m glad. He’s my husband.”

Domenico felt like he was punched in the gut by those words. He felt like he didn’t deserve them.

Rafaella threw Misty a look of such hatred she knew the other woman would have hit her if she could get away with it. She snarled at Misty, “But when the war’s over, he won’t need you anymore and then he’ll kick you out. Can’t you see? It’s why he hasn’t mated with you.”

“Rafaella, stop this,” Ricardo snapped, embarrassed at the scene his daughter was creating.

“Take care of your wife,” Dio gritted at Domenico.

Temper already frayed and still raw at Rafaella’s earlier taunt, Domenico gritted back, “I don’t need any advice from you!”

Dio whitened. “For God’s sake, when are you ever going to let go of the past? I said something evil in a moment of anger and fear. I would give up my life to take it back. What else do you want?”

Domenico turned his back on his father. He didn’t want to think about his father’s words, didn’t want to even entertain a single doubt about the rightness of his decisions – then and now. If he did, it would mean that his entire quest of revenge against his father would have been for nothing.

He pulled Misty to his side. “Come on, darling. We have enough.” Instinct told him he had to get his wife out of here before something worse could happen.

In a way, Dio was right. His inability to let go of the past threatened his present, his future. But it was Dio’s fault all this happened in the first place. Dio’s fault and not his!

Rafaella was still screaming obscenities. “How can you stand being a second class wife?”

Misty had enough. “I’m not a second class wife. He loves me. We love each other. There’s nothing you can do---”

“Then why was he considering nullifying your marriage when he learned that my father could help him ally with the Caros?” Rafaella challenged.

She paled. “I don’t believe you.”

“Ask him!”

“Cease this quarrel of yours with my wife if you do not want to anger me, Rafaella,” Domenico warned the other woman. He tried pulling Misty away but she refused to budge.

“Ask him,” Rafaella screamed.

Misty shook her head. “I won’t stoop to your level.” It took every ounce of Misty’s self-control not to break down. Rafaella was so convincing. But she had to trust Domenico. She had to. “And just so you’d know, we have been mated.” She lifted her chin. “Every night.”

Someone in the crowd burst into laughter.

Misty paled, knowing that laugh was meant for her even if she did not understand why.

And then Rafaella began laughing as well. “You! God, what an idiot you are! And your mind is in the gutters! When we say ‘mated’ we’re not talking about sexual intercourse, you idiot. We’re talking about mating as the true joining of two mates…of you becoming like us.” Rafaella laughed. “But you’re not, are you?”

She walked away, head held high.

Chapter Fourteen

Dear Diary,

I can’t think of a thing to say except…

It’s over.

“Misty, we have to talk.” Domenico couldn’t believe how hard a time he was having controlling his voice. His heartbeat was so loud it was near to drowning his words.

But Misty didn’t look back. She kept on walking and walking and by the time he caught up with her, they were out of Lyccan Hall, past the front doors and the cynosure of all the guards in attendance.

Misty flinched when Domenico’s fingers wrapped around her arm.

“Misty, listen.”

She shook her head.

“Let me explain---”

“It’s too late,” she cut him off in a whisper. “Rafaella did the explaining for you.” The other woman’s words filled her mind. She couldn’t believe how foolish she had been.

Domenico cursed. “Rafaella---”

He stopped when Misty flinched at hearing him speak the other woman’s name and he cursed. He turned her around so she could face him and then wished he hadn’t.

Misty looked broken.

All the words of explanation he had thought of died in his throat. Suddenly, all he could say was, “Misty, I love you.” His voice was hoarse. “Please…”

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