Bad Little Bride

“How does she know this?” Grandma asks.

“That Philip wants to steal me away from my fiancé and claim me as his own?” I shrug. “How should I know? I only found out the other night. Maybe she hired a PI.”

“I can hear your mind running, dear. Spit it out.”

I hold back a moment, deciding it can’t hurt to mention it. “My father and Mr. Mitchell were speaking at the fundraiser the other night. He mentioned something about a new business endeavor.”

“What did Mr. Fikile have to say about that?”

My silence has her looking up, her hands pausing on the tissue paper. “You do realize you must tell him, just in case.”

I lean against the shelving, watching as she lifts the silky green robe from its box. “Is that your way of saying you will if I don’t?”

“Despite what you may believe, Miss Revenaw, I’m not here as a spy.”

“The three-month supply of birth control sitting in a pile of ash in the fireplace says differently.”

“Yes, well.” She takes a step back, staring at the robe on the hook she hung it on, only to pull it back down. “The three-month supply hidden in your purple Louis duffle says otherwise.”

My eyes snap to hers and she simply stares me down before looking away. “This should be worn, not hung.” She sets it out over the small, round ottoman. “And no, this is not for me to tell. You will need to, though, especially if there is an issue we’ve yet to understand.”

“Enzo knew before I did that Philip’s family was angry with my dad for his refusal of even allowing a conversation about an arranged marriage,” I say as I stand, stripping off the pajamas I put on after my shower and tying the robe over me instead. “I guarantee he knows more about the Mitchells than I do.” I step in front of the mirror, admiring the piece all over again.

It looks even better than it did in the store this afternoon.

“And if he doesn’t, he will after you tell him, likely before your visitors.”

Spinning, I lean against the mirror, crossing my arms, and ask the question I’ve been wondering all day. “Why did he allow them past the guards?”

“For you.” My head tugs back and she rolls her eyes. “When you came to Mr. Fikile, it was widely rumored he was after your father’s position. Now, you’re engaged, and that position belongs to Mr. Bishop. Trusting him around you, if you could call it that being every guard on payroll was hidden around the grounds hours before their arrival, was to show you what your impending union means to him. And before you make some sort of joke, let me assure you, the sentiment is unmatched.”

Trusting him around me…

A thought hits me then, and I glare at the diamond studded heels she picked today that I have no intentions of ever stepping into. “Do you know who Nicholas Galley is?”

Grandma stills for a single second, then continues unboxing the items she refuses to let me help with. “I do.”

My eyes narrow and I step beside her. “At the club, after Enzo⁠—”

“Was blinded by possessiveness and pulled an Enzo?” she offers.

A smile tugs at my lips, and I nod. “Yes, that. Nicholas called him boss. Does he work for Enzo?”

“Mr. Fikile employs many people.”

“What was he hired for exactly?”

“Mr. Fikile employs many people for many things.”

“Grandma!”

“I despise that name,” she mumbles, finally facing me. “Has Mr. Fikile ever required the particular services the Galleys provide, yes.” She tips her head, pinning me with a very mother-like expression. “Judging by your line of questioning and the look in your eye, he’s worked for you too, something you may need to discuss with your fiancé.”

The problem with a motherly expression? It doesn’t exactly work on me being I grew up without one. So I only shrug, having zero intentions of telling him. “If that’s the case, then Enzo probably already knows.”

“Probably, but you should still tell him.”

“Because he’s so forthcoming with me.”

She follows me out of the room, turning on the firepit and opening the giant wall of windows, revealing the stars in the distance. “I’m not sure you realize the power you hold here, Miss Revenaw. If you want to know something, you need only ask.”

I grin, tipping my head. “This is me asking.”

“Mmhmm. You know what I’m saying to you. Don’t be cute.”

A genuine smile reaches my lips and I step out onto the patio as she does, watching as she fluffs the cushions and adjusts the chairs that were perfectly fine to begin with. “Would you like a glass of wine on the patio to end your evening?” she asks.

“That sounds nice, thank you.” My gaze follows hers as she moves back inside the room, snagging on a corner door I never noticed before. It sits alone at the farthest edge of the room, almost tucked away in a small conclave you have to be looking at from this general angle in order to spot. “Where does that door lead?”

A moment passes and she doesn’t respond, so I spin to ask again, assuming she didn’t hear me, only to find her standing still, eyes locked on mine.

A haze sweeps over me, but the longer we stare at one another, the clearer it becomes. She heard me.

She just doesn’t want to answer.

“That door,” I press, this time more firmly. “Where does it lead?”

Her expression is as blank as the day I met her, chin held high.

“A room,” is all she says.

“What room?”

“Miss Revenaw⁠—”

“What. Room?”

She hesitates a moment, a flicker of something in her eyes that looks a lot like pity, the reason for it clear with her next three words. “Not what room…”

Whose room.

The thrill of the afternoon is defeated by a thousand thorns, prickling across my body and thickening my skin through the metaphorical scars they’re sure to leave behind.

The room I was tossed in when I first arrived is two flights of stairs below this one, down a fifty-foot hall, and around a corner that leads you to an entirely different wing of this mansion.

I’ve been sleeping a mile away from my husband, while his ex-wife sleeps next door.

I don’t realize I’ve moved until Grandma speaks.

“What are you doing?” she asks as casual as ever, tailing my every move when I dart toward the opposite wall. Her eyes go wide when I take a chance, slamming my fist into a shelf similar to the one in my room—my old room—and what do you know, a gun pops out.

Thanks for the tip, dear husband.

“A Smith & Wesson SD9. My favorite.” I flick my eyes from the weapon to her. “No safety, just need a firm trigger finger.”

“Miss Revenaw…” she warns, backing up a step when I lift it into my hands. I don’t miss the two slides she shifts to the right, as if trying to block off the doorway.

It only pisses me off more.

So she runs my bathwater and pours my champagne. What the fuck does it matter if the girl she’s willing to take a bullet for is the one that I replaced?

Maybe she wishes I didn’t.

What if she wants Katana to retake her position at Enzo’s side?

I lift the gun, aiming it at her head and tilt mine. “You know why my family forgives me every time I fuck up, Grandma?” Her eyes narrow and I cock the gun, flipping my wrist toward the ground, so my ring is pointed to the ceiling, my finger hovering just over the trigger. “Because they know I’m batshit. You haven’t seen that. Enzo hasn’t seen that, but soon, if this shit keeps up, you will. Now…move.”

She fists her hands at her sides. “I cannot allow you to kill her.”

“Assuming you could stop me would be your first mistake.” I walk closer, pressing the gun to the underside of her jaw, and she lifts a brow. “And who said it was her who’s dying today?” Grandma’s confusion is quick. Good. Welcome to the club. “I need answers, Grandma, and I’m ready to get them.”

“You don’t want to shoot anyone here.”

“But I will.”

Grandma’s attention snaps over my shoulder, her eyes blowing wide as her arms swiftly loop around my back, attempting to spin us around as she shouts, “No,” just as I hear another voice rattle, “Kill her and I kill you.”

I don’t even tense, fear oozing from the newcomer’s tone so plainly, it’s disgusting, not to mention embarrassing. Grandma is still trying to spin me, which, aww! I knew she liked me, but not the time. I wrench from her grip and flick my eyes toward the ceiling at the sound of a safety flicking off.

Is this chick for real?

I don’t move, giving her the best target you could ask for. You know, if you’re a take-them-from-the-back kind of girl. I, for one, want to see the look on someone’s face before I ruin their fucking day.

I hold still for one second, two seconds, and just as I suspected, footsteps draw her closer.

Such a newbie.

I spin, sweeping my leg out, disarming and knocking her on her ass in one, perfect little twirl.

“Ah!” Katana cries, scooting back with wide eyes, gripping her wrist like a little bitch.

“Pathetic.” I scoff, picking up the gun she was holding, popping the magazine out and checking the chamber before tossing it at her. “Clearly you’re no prisoner here.”

Her fearful eyes snap to Grandma’s. “She’s one of them, isn’t she?”

“Quiet, girl.”

“She was sent here⁠—”

“I said quiet!” Grandma shouts.

“Call Enzo! Please!” she begs, tears pooling and running down her cheeks instantly.

And okay, what the fuck?

My mind clouds with confusion as I take her in but then footsteps race up the stairs. My heart beats double time as a million scenarios race through my mind, simultaneously trying to count how many sets of feet are barreling this way.

Their steps are heavy, a steady march of stomps, so they’re coming in with more than the clothes on their backs. I count at least ten sequences, and my anxiety spikes higher, but I don’t show it. I clamp it down, focus on the calm, and pretend I’m unaffected, while internally comparing all the possible ways I could get out of this, trying to find the one with the highest probability of success.

Twelve men file into the room in the next second. They move in complete unison, rifles swinging from left to right, the spacing between them not off by a single inch as they surround the space like disciplined soldiers, creating a perfect circle around us. Right behind them and the last to filter in is the only man outside of Enzo I’ve ever seen in this house without a mask.

Mino’s expression darkens, and I take note of his hands, covered in shiny black gloves, a silencer sitting in both. I lift the gun in my hand, pointing it at Enzo’s second-in-command, fully aware doing so will end up with twelve pointed back at me. But the moment Mino’s eyes meet mine, there’s a split second of confusion before they widen, and instantly his palms snap open, his guns falling to the floor.

I take a moment to glance around the room, assess the threat, assuming the guards are coming at me from the back, but they aren’t. In fact, every single one has bowed their head, staring at nothing but their boots.

“What the hell is this?” the vicious bark that tears from Mino has my head snapping his way to find his fury isn’t pointed at me. He’s focused on Katana, still on her ass near the wall.

“Mino!” she cries, jumping to her feet and hiding behind his frame, but Mino doesn’t let her.

He shifts until his shoulders are aligned with mine, though keeping himself a few feet in front of me, and a strange sensation settles over me because it’s a protective maneuver.

Hmm.

Her head snaps between the two of us and she hugs herself. “She’s after me.”

He frowns from me to her, and I could spit on him for the way his features soften the slightest bit. “She isn’t, and that alarm is not to be used as a toy.”

“She had a gun!”

“Still do.” I smirk.

Katana cuts a quick glance my way. “She was going to kill⁠—”

“No one was dying today,” Grandma interrupts, lifting her chin and heading for the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a library to see to.”

My head snaps her way and this time it’s her who scoffs, shaking her head on her way out.

“Is anyone going to explain this utter bullshit to me?” I ask, slowly looking from Grandma’s disappearing form to Mino, gun still raised in front of me.

“These are your men, Boston. They came in here to protect you. They are sworn to protect you at all costs.” He lifts his hands. “You can put the gun down.”

I smile wide, a laugh leaving me. “That’s…cute. No thanks.”

“You can see they lowered their weapons. Shit, I tossed mine the second I realized what I was walking into. As the woman of this house, our number one job when in this house is to keep you safe.”

“How reassuring, considering just a couple of months ago, she was the woman of the house, which means your number one job was to keep her safe. So again…” My features harden, and I move the gun back to Katana. “Thanks, but no fucking thanks, so I suggest someone starts talking.”

He shakes his head. “If there was something I could tell you⁠—”

I fire the weapon and Katana screams bloody fucking murder. Mino whips around, taking in the blood along her calf.

“Is there something you can tell me now?” I damn near sing, and I’m aware the smile on my face is a little manic when he swiftly looks back to me.

“She shot me!” Katana cries.

“It’s a scratch.” I roll my eyes. “Stop being so dramatic.”

“Stop her!” she keeps going.

My muscles tense, my other hand coming up, so I’m holding the gun with both hands now.

“Mino!” she shouts.

“Shut up,” he growls at her, then refocuses on me. “She’s not a threat. When it comes to you, she’s nothing and you are everything. You’re his wife.”

Katana gasps and I blink. Hard.

“Wow.” I deadpan. “Dropping the big secret, huh? It might have more of an effect if he didn’t have two of us. You must really want her to walk out of here in one piece.” I cock my head. “You know, I was only going to scare her into talking, but then she pointed a gun at my back, like a spineless bitch, so now she gets to stare down my barrel not knowing if or when I’m going to take another shot, preferably until she pisses herself.”

“You had a gun first!”

I laugh loudly, my head falling back slightly. “And?”

She looks at me like she’s finally realizing that I’m unhinged, but then Mino jerks in her direction.

“You did what?” he hisses so low, so menacing she caves into herself, hand shaking where it hovers over the flesh wound on her leg, too afraid to touch it. “Do you have any idea what he would⁠—”

“Leave.”

The word is roared across the room, strong and loud and dominant. As if it holds some kind of superpower, every single person in the room reacts at once, silently following the command, but I don’t take my eyes off Katana to spare Enzo a glance.

I swear to God if he’s come to protect her…

Everyone inside files out, and Katana tucks her chin to her chest, giving him a wide berth as she steps around the space, limping like I ran her over when the bullet barely kissed her skin.

“Katana,” Enzo calls, and now I do look to him, only to find his hard gaze is locked on mine, even as he speaks to her. “We had an agreement.”

My eyes narrow on his.

“I’m sorry, Enzo,” she whispers, voice thick with tears. “Please don’t give up on me. I need you.”

This bitch.

I lift the gun, quickly firing it off in her direction as Enzo jerks forward in attempt to grab it, but he’s too far.

Katana screams, cowering into a ball, and my lips curve at the meek little mouse.

“Your pet is foolish.” I bring the gun up, pointing it at him this time. “Doesn’t she know curling into herself makes her an even bigger target, not that I need one. I could shoot her between the eyes, with mine closed.”

“To your room, Katana.” He hasn’t taken his eyes off me since he’s entered. Not once.

He knows I didn’t shoot her…this time. I shot two inches from her pretty face, so she’d feel the wind of the bullet as it flew past her lips, sinking into the coal-colored wall.

She starts to walk out the door and a bitter laugh leaves me.

“Why go all the way around when you can slip through the door that leads right to you?”

Enzo’s eyes narrow slightly, and I curse myself for commenting at all.

He waits until she’s gone then takes a step closer, followed by another, and my arm holds strong and solid, stretched straight out, but he keeps coming until his dress shirt is pressed to the cold steel.

“Jealousy looks very good on you.” His chest rumbles, his tongue sliding along his lower lip in the most distracting of ways.

“Not as good as red running down and ruining your carpet is going to look if I find out there’s more going on between you and her than a little word play.”

“Would it bother you if there was?”

“That’s the wrong thing to say when I have a gun pointed at your heart.”

“So, that’s a yes.” His hazel eyes shine with satisfaction as he stares down at me. “But can you admit why?”

“I’m married to you.”

He hums, and I swear his chest puffs out.

“If you’ve fucked her in this room, don’t expect me to sleep here anymore, not that you’ve stepped foot into that bed since I’ve been in it. Either way, you’ll have to chain me to the pretty posts for that to happen.”

His teeth sink into his lower lip. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

His tone is like liquid smoke, sweeping over me with an unexpected heat, and I have the sudden urge to swallow. As if he’s all too aware, his eyes fall to my throat.

I quickly shift my hand, pressing the pistol into his neck, and his lips curve with a salacious smile.

“So feisty, my little bride.”

“This is me calm.”

The man groans. Groans.

It’s deep and masculine and when he draws himself closer, our bodies now pressed together, I suck in a breath. I have a gun to this man’s throat, and not just any gun, but his gun, in his home. I could pull the trigger and end him right here, right now. His entire legacy would fall, just like that.

He has no heir.

No family as far as blood goes.

He has you, Boston. You’re supposed to give him his heir. Secure his legacy. Make it stronger than ever before.

This time I do swallow.

I am his wife. He is my husband, but we may as well be strangers.

Strangers don’t treat your pussy like the world’s best ice cream in the middle of the stairwell.

I push the thought away as quickly as I can, refocusing.

I’m not delusional. He could have disarmed me by now if he really wanted to, but he hasn’t so much as made a move to try, and I don’t understand why.

He doesn’t know me, so…why is he trusting me with his life?

I push the gun harder into his skin, needing him to snap, to fight for control and fuel the hatred I have to hold on to. He doesn’t, and as I shove the muzzle into his skin, Enzo’s head falls to the side, his lips parted, and my gaze drops to the thick corded vein there, running from his jawline all the way down, disappearing beneath the collar of his dress shirt.

His pulse pounds before my eyes, hard and heavy, right there beneath my kiss, permanently marked into his heated flesh.

Before I know what I’m doing, my knuckle has stretched from where it’s wrapped around the grip, greedily giving in to its own need to touch his now perfectly healed tattoo.

His eyes close, chest rumbling at the feeling, and the sound sends sparks across my skin, doubling down when he shifts the slightest bit.

My husband is hard. Thick and long and pressed against my hip. Suddenly there’s a hollow ache between my legs, begging to be filled. Stretched.

I have no doubt he’d leave an addicting burn behind.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but my body seems happy to take control, as I’m on my toes, tongue flicking out without permission, licking across my lips on his skin. His salty, musky flavor explodes across my tongue and I think I start to shake.

I know I do when Enzo’s hand slides under my ass, yanking me harder against his erection, his giant palm clenching my ass cheek so hard it might bruise. He moans, long and loud into my ear, and I grow dizzy at the masculine sound. My eyes close, my forehead falling to his shoulder as I try to settle myself.

His fingertips bite into my skin, his free hand driving into my hair, yanking just slightly. He rolls my head to the side, stretching my neck wide and long until my eyes are forced to be locked with his.

My mouth opens, but before I can so much as form a word, I’m spun, my ass now to his front, the gun tossed to the bed as his back hits the wall, arms locking around my middle to keep me where he wants me.

I fight in his grip, but he only chuckles, low and deep, in my ear.

“If you can’t tell, I’m enjoying the struggle.” He grinds his hips against me.

I clench my eyes closed, my mouth pressing into a firm line, forcing myself to stop moving.

“I watch you, you know.” Enzo’s chest inflates with a full breath, his rough palms running long, hot strokes along my arms. “When you eat, when you sleep.”

“That’s not creepy.”

He hums, deep in his throat. “I watch the sweat build across your skin when you dance until you can hardly walk…which we will talk about one day. I watch you when you read, zooming in a little closer when I spot a flush creep up your neck.”

Anger heats my blood, embarrassment keeping my muscles stiff, but it’s the raw flame of need that keeps my mouth closed.

I shouldn’t enjoy hearing this.

I should not get turned on learning my husband has not only robbed me of the future I thought he was giving me, but my privacy as well.

I should slam my head back into his face, break his nose and then his trachea.

Instead, I sink my teeth into my lower lip, pressing my ass into him a little more, and I’m rewarded with a single grind of his hips against mine.

“Did you finish the one you started two days ago?” he wonders. “The one where he sat her on his lap and told her to move like he was inside her?”

I gape, trying to turn and look at him, but he dips his face into my neck, and a strangled sound slips past my throat when his teeth bite down on the sensitive spot there. “How did you⁠—”

“I finished it last night, while you were sleeping.”

I swallow, lost in the moment, but then my eyes land on the door at the corner of the room. I stiffen and Enzo’s arms tighten around me, completely aware of where my head went.

“I’ve never touched her.” His voice is thick and strong as his mouth closes over my earlobe, slowly letting it slip free with a slight scrape of his teeth. “Not even with my lips.”

My heart beats a little harder in my chest, and I remind myself I have no reason to trust his word.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You will.”

And then he’s gone, out the door without so much as looking back, but it’s when I move to the bed to sit down that a small smile breaks over my lips.

He left me the gun, his way of telling me he trusts any move I feel the need to make.

I could go into that room next door right now, kill Katana if I wanted, and he’d accept it.

He might not like it, but he’d accept it.

So later that night, when I curl up under the thick black and emerald blankets and tell myself that is the only reason I stay in this room, it doesn’t feel like a lie.