Ruby Fever (Hidden Legacy, #6)(85)

“It’s good that you remember we are adults,” Alessandro said. “Last time I checked, no one except me has the right to negotiate on my behalf. I’m not anyone’s property. I’m not for sale. Whatever bargains you made with my grandfather have nothing to do with me.”

“The payment has been made,” Christina said.

“That’s your problem.” He turned away from her.

“Don’t turn your back on me.” Christina’s voice rang out. “You will regret it. You are not the only Prime here. If you need help remembering your manners, I will gladly remind you.”

And she’d graduated to direct threats. I pulled out my phone and texted Mom.

Please don’t shoot her.



The Artisan smiled.

“She is rude, arrogant, and na?ve,” I said to him. “But there are worse things.” Come back from the killing zone. We have bigger enemies to take care of.

Christina turned to me, clearly trying to think of a good comeback.

Alessandro tilted his head. “Make me regret it, Prime Almeida. Impress me.”

Magic snapped around Christina like an invisible whip being cracked. She struck at him, a golden blade in her hand. He sidestepped, rammed his elbow into her face, knocked her leg from under her, and wrenched the blade out of her fingers as she fell.

Lilian gasped.

Christina scrambled to her feet, her nose bleeding.

Alessandro tossed the sword over his shoulder like it was trash. “Again.”

She summoned another sword and lunged. He leaned out of the way, checked her extended right arm with his left forearm, grabbed her wrist, locked his other hand on her other wrist, crossed her arms, and twisted. She hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.

What the hell kind of move was that? I would have to make him show me later.

“Again,” Alessandro snapped. “With feeling.”

She leaped to her feet and spun like a ballerina. I felt her magic fire through her sword. It shot out in a crescent in front of her like a huge blade of golden light and missed. Alessandro had moved out of the way, twisted around Christina, and snapped a kick to her left thigh. She cried out and went down on one knee.

“Again!”

She rose, her face skewed by anger, and locked her teeth, her eyes blazing with rage.

He was being remarkably careful with her. All of it hurt, but none of it resulted in a permanent injury.

Christina flicked her wrist. Two golden blades appeared in her hands. She charged, slicing. He leaned back. Her golden swords carved the air half an inch from his face.

Alessandro snapped a kick to her other thigh. Chassé Italien, a powerful forward stomp, perfectly timed. Chamber the knee to the outside and drive the heel into the opponent’s leg like a piston. Christina went down again.

I’d seen him cripple a man with that kick. If you delivered enough force in just the right place, you’d cause permanent damage to the kneecap.

Christina scrambled to her feet and screamed. It wasn’t pain, it was outrage. He’d humiliated her, and he had done it unarmed.

At least she was still walking.

“Not good enough,” Alessandro told her. “Whoever led you to believe you are ready to fight a real opponent has done you an enormous disservice.”

“I hate you!” she snarled.

“Already? We haven’t even walked to the altar.”

He flicked his fingers. His magic twisted around him, delivering weapons into his right hand in a shower of orange sparks, a katana, a machete, Winchester, Little Brother, a tactical sword one after the other. He walked toward her, dropping the swords and guns the moment they touched his fingertips, leaving a deadly trail behind him.

His fingers closed about a short black blade. He’d summoned my favorite gladius. He spun it lightly, letting the blade glide over his fingers like it was glued to them by some mystical force.

“This idiotic nonsense is over,” he said.

Of all the swords at his disposal, he’d chosen that one to end his engagement. I got the message loud and clear.

Christina took a step back. Tomorrow both of her thighs would be bruised, and she would need help to get out of bed. Her nose had stopped bleeding—Alessandro must’ve barely tapped it, but her eyes were still watering, and he’d thrown her on the ground none too gently. Right now, her whole body was in pain, but the sting to her pride was much worse.

The goon on the right with a ruddy thick face stepped forward. The bones of his skull crawled.

Lilian slipped off the bench and raised her arms in a smooth elegant move. Orange sparks clutched at her fingertips. Two guns barked in unison and the goons fell to the patio.

Leon fell off his bench. She was holding a SIG P226 in one hand and a Glock 17 in the other. She’d copied his guns.

Lilian glanced at the two men bleeding onto the stone. “I’ve waited a very long time to do that.”

Um . . . What just happened?

Alessandro stared at his mother. Christina’s mouth hung open.

Countess Sagredo arched her eyebrows at Christina. “You heard my son. Run along now.”

Christina woke up, clenched her fists, opened her mouth to say something, changed her mind, and took off across the patio. One of our guards stepped out from behind the bushes and trailed her.

“Leon,” I said. “Please give us some privacy.”