Bad Little Bride

I didn’t sleep, not for a single moment, and it didn’t help that Enzo went to play bad Batman in the middle of the night, leaving me to my thoughts with no possibility of distraction.

Katana Fikile is really Katana Henley, heir to the east and the completion of the cardinal compass that is the girls of Greyson. She’ll be at the prep school come fall, attending as nothing but a tadpole in a pond of sharks, swallowed and spit on over and over again with zero respect until she begins to earn it, inch by exhausting inch.

If she can even manage to do that, and based on what I know of how she was raised, I’m not convinced. The girl has likely never even seen an R-rated movie until she found the little bit of freedom the mansion has afforded her, so our little show in the kitchen yesterday may very well have melted her skin off from the heat of embarrassment alone.

She wouldn’t last five minutes at The Enterprise, and she’ll be expected to take charge of the girls there? Run an underground gambling ring full of girls in lingerie and spotlight stages?

There’s no fucking way.

She’ll be chewed up and spit out…probably by my twin.

Rocklin can’t stand weak women. To be a Greyson girl means to be the opposite, and the girls they bring into the life of scheming and underground, unsuspecting crime are no different.

I can’t allow Katana to step onto that campus as a Fikile and disgrace the name everyone in our world knows to fear. Her fault or not, Enzo will not suffer from her mishaps, nor will I.

Being a pretty, perfect little princess is a common role for daughters of powerful men, but even the prissiest of us are taught to protect ourselves.

Which is exactly why, at six in the morning, my hair is tied back in the tightest ponytail I could manage, and I’m dressed in spandex shorts and a sports bra, slipping through the door in my room that leads to hers.

I pause instantly, having expected it to simply open right next to her bed—or that must have been what I expected when I initially found out where it led, as an unexpected sense of confusion washes over me the second my eyes fall on the space. The space that is not her room, but more of a mini room that gaps from hers to ours, a giant screen taking up nearly the entire wall with a single chair across from it. Dozens upon dozens of small squares are lit up, the security camera feeds playing across them before a few split off to different views. I spot my old room instantly, noticing that every single corner of it is displayed on these screens and they don’t switch to another space. No, they stay as they are, not lapping a second of time.

“He really was watching me,” I mumble to myself, a small smile on my lips.

Some might get pissy over something like this, but I quite like the idea. Would I have been upset about it had I seen this at a different time? Maybe, but that’s irrelevant now, isn’t it?

Refocusing, I push out a sharp breath. With an overly aggressive fist, I bang on the door in rapid repetition until I hear movement on the other side, but what I don’t expect is a giant male with a shaved head to tear it open, his AK pointed straight at my head.

I raise a brow, and he visibly pales, dropping to his knees with a bowed head.

“Miss Revenaw, forgive me.”

I ignore him completely, stepping around to find a wide-eyed, half-asleep Katana.

“What—”

“Get up,” I cut her off. “Dress like me and be in the hall in five minutes.”

She draws her blankets up to her chin. “Please don’t kick me out.”

“Four minutes.” I head out her open bedroom door, the one the guard must have barreled through, and don’t look back.

To her credit, she’s in the hall with one to spare.

She follows me down the stairs, and only when we reach the bottom floor do I realize I have no idea where I’m going. I’ve never seen the gym, and I’m not about to ask her to show me around what’s supposed to be my own home, so I head out the back terrace instead, following the path Grandma led me down and out onto the sand.

I start jogging, and eventually, she catches on and follows after me, her footsteps clunky and the toes of her shoes dipping into the sand because she has no idea how to be light on her feet. It’s only going to make it harder for her to manage the distance I’m about to take her on.

We get about a half mile before her open-mouth pants reach me and I shake my head, doing my best to ignore her. At three quarters, she begins to whine.

“How much farther?”

I pick up the pace.

“I’m sweating.”

I take a deep breath.

“I need water.”

Slamming my eyes closed, I come to a jerky stop and whip around. She has no control over her body, staggering into me, but I put my shoulder out and she knocks onto her ass in the sand.

Her eyes snap up to mine, sweat dripping down her temples and cheeks flushed red. Somehow, she still looks pretty.

I shake my head, glaring at her. “Stop complaining.”

“I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well after…” She swallows, and I almost smile at the blush that slips over her. “I haven’t eaten, and I didn’t even have time to drink a glass of water.”

“And if you get kidnapped, you won’t sleep or eat for even longer. You’d be lucky if they give you a bucket to piss in, let alone a glass of fucking water.”

She scurries back, shooting to her feet and looking around frantically before bringing her eyes back to mine. “He told you.”

“He should have told me sooner.”

She scowls at that. “He shouldn’t have told you at all.”

I stalk toward her, getting in her face. “You’re lucky he did, princess, or I would have likely killed you before you left for Greyson Elite.”

“He wouldn’t let you!”

“Yes, he would, but that’s irrelevant now, isn’t it?” I spit. “Now that I know, I can’t ignore it. Your first term starts in a few weeks, and you need to be prepared.”

She crosses her arms like the bratty teenager she is, legal age or not. “I don’t need your help to pass my classes. My IQ⁠—”

“The fact that you’re bothering to tell me what your IQ is further cements how fucking dense and out of your league you are. You must not know this, but. Every. Single. Person. In the academy is in the one percent. The brightest of the fucking bright, but not only are they masterminds, they’re the toughest of the tough. They are geniuses with full combat training, all who have mafia, royalty, and cartel ties that most of them call Daddy, and not the kind they begged to be branded by.

“You’re a mouse going into a jungle of predators who will chew you up and spit you out for no other reason than because they’re bored, and they can. You probably won’t survive your first week before you’re calling and crying, begging Enzo to let you come back.”

She swallows, lifting a shoulder in false bravado. “So what if I do?”

I’m already shaking my head, predicting what she was going to say before she spoke the first word. “You’re not coming back here, Katana, not as a permanent fixture. The day you leave, is the day you step toward your future, and we both know there is no future for you here.”

Her lips press together, an anxiousness settling over her because she knows I’m right.

I am the woman of this house. Enzo is mine.

She’s a temporary shadow, an obligation at best, but she has one of her own to fulfill, and she has no idea what that entails.

“So this is all about getting me out of your hair?”

“No.” I lift a shoulder. “You’ll be back for holidays, breaks, and any other time the campus is cleared. Or at least until it’s time to tell them who you are, and you take your wing in the mansion with the other girls of Greyson.”

“Why not just send me off, leave me to find my way on my own?”

“Because your name on your dorm door will read Katana Fikile, sister to Enzo Fikile.”

“They’ll leave me alone when they realize this.”

“They’ll know before you set foot in the door, and they’ll come at you harder because of it. You’re the first Fikile to be accepted into the academy, the only first generation of your year. You’ll have more to prove than anyone. The Greyson Gala will be here before we know it, and as the highlighted student of first years, which make no mistake you are as Enzo’s little sister, they will escort you across the stage and introduce you to every single board member, including the men who witnessed your birth, the birth of the fourth Greyson, and you don’t even know who’s who.”

Katana looks like she’s going to be sick, and when she steps forward, it’s almost in a desperate plea. “What do I do?”

I straighten, staring her in the eye. “Everything I say.”

With that, I spin around and start jogging once more.

Katana follows.

She doesn’t make a sound until I stop at the three-mile mark, and she collapses into the sand.

“That was…so…” She never finishes her sentence.

She passes out, not waking until the guard I had lift her tosses her into the lake.

She shoots to the surface in confusion before her eyes settle on me.

I lower into the lounge chair, lifting a fresh cup of ice water to my lips. “Ready to get started?”

“Started?” she shrieks, dropping onto her ass in the lake. “I thought we were done?”

I laugh loudly, shaking my head. “Of course you did. That was just the warm-up. Time for the real fun.”

Her shoulders fall. “Do I even want to know?”

“You can ask, but I’m afraid she won’t be able to answer.”

Both our heads yank toward Enzo’s voice, and I inhale deeply at the sight of him.

He looks delicious, dipped in darkness with an all-black suit that makes his hair look an impossible shade of raven. His eyes are locked on me even though his words were for her, and when he approaches, he reaches out, fingers clasping over my neck so he can gently tug me to meet his lips, too impatient to close the distance on his own.

“Little Bride,” he rasps against my lips.

“Mr. Fikile,” I tease, smirking to myself when he groans and pulls away, tugging me to my feet.

He turns toward Katana. “Follow the guards inside. Go about your usual routine, Boston will come find you when she’s ready for you.”

Her embarrassment from last night boils to the surface again; her face flaming with his attention on her, and she ducks her head with a nod, rushing from the water toward the house.

Once she’s out of earshot, I look up at Enzo, who regards me with a strange expression.

“What?”

“You don’t have to help her.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I can hire someone to come in and⁠—”

“No, you can’t,” I cut him off. “She’s a diamond in the sand. No one would pass the opportunity to pick her up and disappear if they knew who she really was.”

“That doesn’t make her your responsibility.”

“Do you know anyone better equipped for the job? My sister is a Greyson girl. I lived in both the dorms and the Greyson Manor. I grew up as the daughter of a Don, a man of the union she belongs to. I understand the life she’s about to be tossed into eighteen years too late.”

Enzo’s eyes narrow the smallest bit, and he turns his body to face me fully, taking my left hand in his and drawing my ring between us. He spins it around and around, gaze never leaving mine. “Okay, but tell me what brought you to this decision.”

“Easy.” I tip my head to the side. “I will not have her disgracing your name.”

Enzo groans, dipping to bite my knuckle. “Your name.”

“Our name.”

He slams his lips to mine, his tongue sweeping in and choking me, before tearing free. “You are all that I imagined you to be, Mrs. Fikile.”

“So you’ve said before.”

He smirks, but then he blinks, and a serious expression takes over. “I wasn’t just trying to get rid of her. We do have…unexpected business to attend to.”

“What kind of business?”

He frowns deeply, looking up at the top of the terrace. I follow his gaze, mine clashing with the dark-haired girl from the other day.

“Enzo, why is Raven Brayshaw standing in the very place I kicked her out of?”

“Because apparently, Bastian Bishop wants to get his ass kicked.”

“He didn’t tell you she was coming?”

“Oh no, he did.” He frowns. “But he left out the part where she was bringing her whole fucking family with her.”

“And what is it that they want?”

He waits for me to look his way before speaking. “Whatever it is, you’re the person they think they can get it from.”

My brows snap together, and I look up again. This time, the girl waves, hopping up and sitting on the edge of the terrace, her legs hanging over like it’s not a sixty-foot or more drop.

I watch as the tall, dark-haired one comes up behind her the minute she does, hauling her off, and smirk when I hear her start to bitch.

“Okay, well. If it’s me they want to talk to, they can wait until I’m ready to talk to them.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“I need to shower and then we can hear what they have to say.”

“You need to shower, and eat, and then we can listen to what they have to say out of respect for Bastian before I tell them to fuck off.”

I can’t help the small laugh that leaves me, and Enzo smiles in response.

He holds a hand out, and I slip mine inside, the two of us heading to our room.

The unwanted guests are made to wait nearly two hours before I step out onto the terrace, dressed in armor in the form of winged liner and blood red lips.

They stop speaking as I approach, and I lower into the chair Enzo pulls out for me without a word, his hands instantly falling to my shoulders.

I nod my thanks when my cappuccino, already fixed to my liking, is instantly set in front of me, the server silently disappearing into the house. I take a small sip then look around from one person to the next, settling my gaze on the one who is clearly in charge here.

Raven herself.

She smirks.

I lift a brow.

“Is that hot chocolate?”

My head yanks toward the tattooed male who breaks the silence with his random-ass question, and just in time to watch the white-haired, clearly pregnant girl smack him in the chest. “Sorry.” She smiles, adjusting her sunglasses.

I’m tempted to tell her to take them off so I can see her face fully, but then one of the Fikile guards catches my attention, bandana slung across his face per usual, and decide she can keep them. For now.

“What do you want?” I say, slowly facing Raven again.

“To catch a snake.”

“Why come to me?”

“Because he’s in your grass.”

I look to Bastian, who nods, his gaze flicking up to Enzo.

“If you know where he is, why do you need me?”

The tattooed one scoffs. “Because it would be more fun.” He might as well add an “obviously” to the end of that statement.

Enzo’s grip tightens on my shoulders. “And you think I would risk my fiancée for your entertainment?”

“No.” Raven edges, humor in her eyes. “I think your fiancée will do it for the simple fact that you think she shouldn’t.” She cocks her head in challenge. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

I look from her to him, holding his gaze for a long moment. He gives nothing away, at least not to the naked eye, but I’m beginning to see through his masks, and she’s right. He doesn’t want me to, he said as much earlier, but even if he hadn’t, I would have known.

Somewhere between his making me feel like a fool and recognizing his intentions were far better than even my own, I’ve come to trust this man. My husband.

He would no sooner put me in harm’s way than he would allow me to walk away, not that I want to anymore. No, this man would burn anything that stood in his way to ash if it meant reaching me on the other side.

A small smile curves my lips, and while Enzo’s expression remains blank, I spot the matching flicker of affection in his hazel eyes before moving mine back to her.

Instantly, Raven’s scowl forms.

“You’re wrong.” I cross my legs, lifting my mug once more. “I know my place, Raven, and I don’t need to go against my man’s wishes to make me feel adequate, especially when the one other men go to for protection is the one who belongs to me. If he disagrees, I disagree. So.” I look to Bastian. “Your job isn’t to convince me. It’s to convince him and I will follow his lead.”

“Even if by not agreeing, he’s leading you into a fire?” Raven glares.

“Especially then.” I smile wide this time, uncrossing and recrossing my legs in the opposite direction. “Look, I don’t know what this is about, or what it is exactly you’re looking for, so I’ll lay down the facts that I’m sure you already know.” I pause, and when Enzo doesn’t interject, continue. “Philip is the son of Gorgio Mitchell, a chemist who worked his way into the drug game. He’s not a supplier; he’s the supplier, sells to all the districts but doesn’t have the approval to cross over himself, so he’s forced to sell his share of profit with each side, being they use their own runners. They’re a powerful family but they’re stuck where they are with no opportunity for growth without ties. Respected, but stuck.” Which is precisely why he wanted to marry me.

Of course I don’t tell them this.

Raven’s eyes narrow in understanding, and slowly, she nods as if she knows exactly what I mean.

“Cute. We already knew all that.” The tattooed one crosses his arms.

“Don’t call her cute,” Enzo snaps.

The man grins at Enzo. “Heard he caught a wine stem to the neck. Nice move, my man. Might borrow that one.”

Enzo huffs, and I can picture him shaking his head.

Raven has been watching me silently, and I wait for her to open her mouth, but she just runs her tongue along her teeth.

“Looks like we’re done here,” I say, sitting back.

“You’re making a mistake.”

My eyes snap to the dark-haired, green-eyed one, Maddoc, I think they said his name was. His expression is one of pure annoyance, jaw sharp in anger.

I squint, guessing, “He’s a threat to you.”

Maddoc’s lip curls and I correct myself.

“He’s a threat…to her.” I motion toward Raven with my head.

Maddoc stands up taller, dipping his chin as he glares at me through his lashes. “Nothing will ever touch her.”

“Which is why you need me.”

“We need no one.” He leans forward. “I’m only here because we took it to a stupid fucking vote, and my brothers give in to everything she wants, so I lost.”

“Because you don’t want to put your wife in danger.”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“I don’t like people I don’t trust.”

I chuckle at that. “And I don’t like half the people I do.”

“And I will kill you all before you can blink if you look at my fiancée like that a breath longer.” Enzo demands everyone’s attention, but it’s not so much the fact that he said it, but how the second the last word left him, a single, pointed laser lands on each of their foreheads at the exact same position from all different angles, Bastian included, though his is pointed at his dick. “You are here as a courtesy, but I will happily bury each of you in my graveyard beside the others.”

Bastian spots the targets on his friends’ foreheads, sighs, and steps up. “All right. Time’s up.”

“The fuck?” The tattooed one turns to Bastian. “You said they’d listen, Bishop.”

“They did listen, Royce. Not their fault you’re talking in circles and giving them nothing. I got you in. My sister is the only one I’ve got a guarantee will walk out unharmed.” He looks to the pregnant one and my brows pop up in surprise. “And I’d rather she not hate me later for what will happen if Maddoc keeps running his big fucking mouth.”

“Fuck you,” Maddoc spits.

Bastian only nods, sliding his hands in his slacks pockets, looking to the blond, pretty one for the first time.

He’s yet to say a word, silently assessing the situation, so I’m not surprised when he’s the one who steps forward first, blocking the others from view as he bypasses me completely and speaks to Enzo, but not in a disregarding way to me, but in a way of respect to Enzo.

“The man we’re looking for is no small threat, and yes, it’s largely to our family, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t pose just as big of one to yours. I’d like to ask that your wife and Raven exchange numbers just in case.”

“Captain. No,” Maddoc growls.

“That way both sides can decide what you want to do, if anything at all,” Captain continues as if his brother didn’t speak.

What kind of name is Captain?

I look to Enzo, his eyes narrowed on the deceptive-looking blond. He’s pretty with his blue eyes and unmarred skin, has that all-American vibe going on, but it’s easy to see that’s not who he is. He’s their silent killer. Logical. Tactical.

Capable of faking a calm he doesn’t feel.

And he oh-so casually called me Enzo’s wife.

Enzo doesn’t correct him. In fact, he gazes down at me, his eyes softening slightly as he asks, “Little Bride?”

I lift a shoulder, meeting the blond’s stare.

“Good.” He nods and just like that, the entire Brayshaw family fans out, the small, platinum-haired pregnant one turning back with a smile and a wave…and I can’t help but chuckle. She looks ridiculous, especially with the laser locked on her temple.

Bastian waits until they’re gone to face us. “They’ll be watching.”

“They’d be fools if they weren’t, and they didn’t strike me as such.” Enzo cocks his head. “Maddoc Brayshaw. Is he a problem?”

“He’s a hundred problems, multiplied by every member of his family and his town. I’ve never known a more loyal name than theirs. Even when I was on the outside of it.”

“I don’t like him.” Enzo glares at the space they cleared.

“No one does. That’s kind of his appeal.” He laughs this time and Enzo scoffs, running a hand over his face as he looks to me.

“What do you think?”

“I think we’re missing something they don’t want us to find.” I look to Bastian. “And I think you know what it is.”

Bastian stares a long moment, his gaze swinging to Enzo’s. “If I’m wrong, it could start a war.”

“And if you’re right?” Enzo asks.

Bastian glares out at the lake before swinging his eyes back our way. “If I’m right, it will start one.”

“And what are the chances you’re wrong?”

Bastian looks my way. “’Bout as good of a chance Philip has marrying you now that you’re already married to him.”

Well…shit.