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As she watched the stage with rapt attention, I watched her.

My seduction plan seemed to be working.

Soon she would forget about all her doubts and questions.

Soon she would be under my complete control.

I plucked a cannoli from the table and bit into the crisp shell, savoring the way the sweet ricotta filling burst across my tongue.

Revenge really was sweet.

CHAPTER 22

SEBASTIAN

Taking her to this performance was an arrogant move.

Rigoletto.

A tragedy spun from the treacherous manipulations of a powerful man and his obsessive need to possess an innocent woman.

Subtlety had never been my strength.

Despite her being surprisingly proficient with languages, picking up an impressive amount of Italian in the weeks she'd lived here, I requested the Teatro Marrucino perform the English National Opera version.

On the surface, it would seem to be a thoughtful romantic gesture, but I knew better.

It wasn't for her comfort.

It was for clarity.

I didn't want her distracted, parsing verses.

I wanted her to understand everything.

Every word.

Every threat.

Every warning masquerading as love.

In some sick, twisted way, this was the most honest I'd ever been with her.

The curtain rose.

A garden at night. Serene. Beautiful. Still.

But like Eden, this one had its serpent.

Sabrina leaned forward as Gilda appeared at her tower window, singing of her cloistered life.

The moment it struck her was quite evident.

The parallels to her own mother's controlling ways were unmistakable.

She stiffened. Recognition was always a knife.

Then, the Duke appeared.