Bad Little Bride

“We’ve got a problem,” Mino growls the second I answer the phone.

My entire body tenses and I turn away from Rayo and Bastian. “What kind of problem, exactly?”

“The bratty blonde kind.”

Fear zips down my spine, rage right there with it. “Where is she?”

“That’s the fucking problem.” He pauses a moment. “The tracker went off-grid sixty seconds ago. Drones are down too.”

I look over my shoulder, eyes zeroed in on a head of dark hair headed toward the exit. “Let me guess. Jammed signals?”

“Ding fucking ding.”

“How far out are you?”

“Turn around.”

I spin to see him barreling through the back gate, rushing right for me.

I meet him halfway. “Talk to me.”

“It was her. She’s got something up her sleeve.”

I grit my teeth, doing all I can to keep my face neutral. “I swear to God, that woman.”

“She’s not leaving you, there’s no fucking way.”

My head yanks his way, and I glare. “Why the fuck would you even say that? No shit, she’s not. Which means…”

“She figured it out.”

I nod, tension coiling around my muscles.

“Plan B?” he asks, already reaching into his suit jacket.

“Plan B.”

We pull our guns out and turn around, lifting and pointing them at the man who owes us direct answers. And what do you know, he’s doing the same damn thing.

We’re in a full face-off.

Mino with Hayze.

Me with Bastian.

Rayo reaches for his weapon, unsure of what move to make, then the lesser version of my wife steps up, sliding between the men until she’s leaning her body against Bastian’s front, smirking up at me. Clearly, she doesn’t see me as a threat, and twin to my wife or not, I’m not sure how I feel about that.

“My sister must really like you.” She toys with her hair.

I keep my eyes on Bastian, my response for her. “Don’t make me shoot you.”

“Watch yourself,” Bastian warns, cocking his head.

Rocklin laughs and I glare harder. “Hey, Bronx!” she calls.

A moment later, Bronx appears, tablet in her hands.

She moves toward me, but Hayze spins in a full circle, somehow never once taking his gun off Mino as he snakes her around the waist and yanks her back.

“No fucking way, little nightmare. He’s got a gun, and I’ve got it on good word he’ll use it if only to make a point.”

“You touched his toy, dipshit. You deserved your little flesh wound, now let me go or I’ll give you a second one, but it will be twice as deep,” she snaps.

“Go for it, baby, ’cause I ain’t letting you go.”

“Enough,” I boom. “Someone better talk.”

“Ugh, so dramatic.” Bronx rolls her eyes and my finger twitches to put a bullet through them. “She’s fine, and I’ve got her on a live feed.” Bronx runs her tongue along her teeth. “I can show you.”

“Where the fuck is she?!”

Bronx lifts a shoulder. “All I know is, she was acting sketch, so I snuck in my own little trackers, a brand-new design I just finished that hasn’t even had proper testing yet, thank you very much, to make sure she didn’t run off like last time and fuck up everything all over again.”

Mino turns his gun on her, his lip curling. “You don’t know shit,” he spits, instantly defending his queen.

Hayze growls, swinging the girl behind him and tossing her to the side before charging at Mino.

Mino smirks, holding his gun out to his side, and beckons him closer with a curl to his fingers.

“No,” Bastian says as calm as fucking ever, and like the well-trained dog he must be, Hayze freezes instantly.

Mino laughs, shaking his head, but his mask slips back in place with his next breath. “Tell us where our girl is. Enough of this.”

“She’s currently sitting at a stoplight on Fifth Avenue.”

I lower my gun and step closer to her, taking the tablet from her hand, not caring if or when Bastian lowers his weapon, trusting Mino will have my back as he always does.

My pulse is hammering, beating wildly in my chest, but the moment I look at the screen, I forget what’s going on and that my bride rebelled at the worst possible fucking time.

All I see is her and the gown she chose.

I wondered why her sister and the others, men included, walked in wearing all white, and now it makes perfect sense, because my baby, my little bride, is plunged in pitch black.

The lipstick she’s wearing and the soft set of her hair.

The pierce of her green eyes beneath long thick lashes, and a sharp point of makeup that makes her all the more fierce.

She looks like a demon bride, my little demon on a mission and ready to kill.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

I’m going to strangle her.

With my cock.

You’re in so much trouble, Little Bride.

My teeth clench and I look up, my glare fixed on her twin. “Where is she going?”

Rocklin shakes her head, eyeing me curiously as Bronx tears the tablet from my fingers. “Like I said, I don’t know, and I don’t know how long the feed will last. This is just the prototype. I haven’t even put this through testing.”

My teeth ache from being clenched so hard as I flick my gaze across the group. “None of you know what she’s up to?”

Katana reaches us then, hands folded over her chest as she meets my gaze. “I do…”

I jolt forward, taking her arm in my hand, and tug her toward me, but Bronx opens her mouth again before I have a chance to say a word.

“Uh…guys.”

My muscles bunch when Bronx speaks, and it takes effort to force my gaze back to the screen.

My lips part, brows snapping together because, “What in the actual fuck?”

Boston

I tilt my head back, running my palms down my gown. “Why am I nervous?” I look up, finding Nicholas already staring at me in the mirror.

His grin is wide, and he takes his hat off, running his hand through his golden hair as we wait at the light. “Pretty sure that’s a thing, right?”

“How many brides have you known?”

He shrugs, looking at the screen of his phone before tossing it in his lap. “I know a thing or two about contract marriages. Of course, the bride in that story wasn’t the one who initiated, that’s for damn sure.”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t exactly have another choice, did I? It was find myself a husband or wait and see who I was gifted to down the line.”

He holds my gaze a moment. “It’s not too late, you know. There is another option.”

I scoff, dropping my head back and closing my eyes. “Little late for this pep talk, Galley.”

“What if it wasn’t?”

I almost smile, my eyes snapping open to meet his. “If it wasn’t…I would want to know.”

He nods, cursing when a car honks their horn behind us. “Hold tight, princess. We’re almost there.”

I force a half smile, dropping my eyes to my lap just as the privacy screen begins to rise into place, blocking us from one another.

The moment it clicks, I roll my eyes, reaching over to hit the lock feature from my side. Scooting over, I pull on the latch to lower the left-side seat. Blonde hair and fake green eyes meet mine as the stowaway shimmies from the small trunk space, pulling herself out completely and sighing when her ass hits the seat.

“It’s been a hot minute since I was locked in a trunk,” she says.

I raise a brow, and she shrugs, leaning over and looking out the window before spinning and glancing out the back. Finally, she meets my gaze, holding her hand out in greeting. “Victoria Brayshaw.”

I clasp my hand in hers, even if the greeting does feel a little pedestrian, all things considered. “Boston Fikile.”

“So my man was right. You’re already married?”

I don’t bother answering, but she doesn’t really care for a response, not pausing before she asks, “Are we all set?”

“This is as good a chance as I can give.” I reach into the built-in bra of my dress and pull out the item matching the one dangling from her hand. “If they kill you, it’s your own fault.”

“And if they find you and take you, that’s your fault. No one in your family touches anyone in mine.”

“That was the deal we made.”

She fixes the veil on her head, smoothing the few pieces of hair that slipped free. “Maddoc doesn’t think we can trust you.”

“Does he trust anyone?”

She smiles at that. “Not if they don’t share his last name, no. You should have seen the shit he put Raven through in the beginning. Badass bully basketball player with a hard-on for the girl he ‘hated.’ The group home we were living in then went feral when those two started hooking up.”

I smile, but quickly refocus when the car begins to slow. “I think we’re pulling into the winery.”

“Perfect.” She nods, digging a phone from her bra and sending a quick message. She smiles, stuffing it away, and meets my gaze. “Remember, you have seven minutes to kill.”

“Easy.”

“How pissed off is your husband going to be?”

A laugh flies from me then, and I shake my head.

“Yeah.” She smiles. “That’s what I figured.” She takes a deep breath, her face set in determination. “Okay. Ready?”

I nod, unfold, and run my fingers along the intricate fabric, before slowly lifting and tying the bandana over the lower half of my face in perfect timing with her.

We face forward, seeing ourselves in the mirrored privacy screen, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Freaky,” she mutters, tracing the lines of the identical veil pinned along the crown of her head. Inspired by Little Red Riding Hood’s coat, our matching blonde hair a perfect picture of the other, down to the curls. “He’ll never see us coming.”

The car rolls to a stop, and I take a deep breath, throwing the door open before Nicholas has fully climbed from his seat. He meets my eyes over the hood, his widening at the sight of the bandana slung over my nose, nothing but a hint of my blonde hair and green eyes visible. Well, from the neck up anyway.

He begins to round on me, so I wait, allowing him to step near the door, giving Victoria the line of sight she needs for her own, final confirmation.

“Boston, don’t freak out, okay?” he begins. “Enzo isn’t inside.”

I tip my head, offering a little frown. “What? Why? Are we early?”

He raises his hands as if to calm me, but then tenses, a smile crossing his face. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re early. Come on.”

He starts walking, eyes flicking back to make sure I’m not hesitating. I stay at his pace, though a single step back and to the left.

At the door, he pulls it open for me, and with a straight spine, I step through, sensing him taking up at my back.

The light from outside casts a shadow across the room, revealing the silhouette of two men standing across from us. As it slams closed, it takes my eyes a moment to adjust, and when they do, I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.

Bingo.

“Philip?” I keep my tone soft and airy. Weak and confused.

Gag me.

His eyes trail over me in my wedding dress, and a light laugh leaves him as he holds his hands out, stepping closer. “I have a feeling this conversation is about to go a lot smoother than anticipated.” He smiles. “Looks like you’re headed to a funeral, beautiful. Are you dreading this…contract marriage that much?”

I get what he’s saying. I do look like a mourning widow.

My wedding dress is as black as a raven’s feathers, as is the hooded, lacey black veil. Mix that with the black bandana, and well. Yes. It’s an over-the-top, sexy funeral outfit, but a funeral outfit nonetheless, if we’re going based off color alone. Which apparently, we are.

I swallow, eyeing him with a forced frown, using a low, lame tone of voice. “How did you find out about the contract?”

He smiles wide. “I hired a PI.” He laughs, glancing behind me, and rage boils in my gut at the confirmation of what I had already figured out as I cut what I hope is not a glare in Nicholas’s direction. “Helped that he was the one who set this whole charade up.”

I stay quiet, letting him do the talking.

Philip moves closer, and my eyes fall to the fresh scar on his neck from where Enzo used his flesh as a pinboard. He keeps coming until he’s two feet from me, then folds his arms in front of him with a million-dollar smile.

“I can make the contract disappear. No fault, no backlash. A clean sweep that makes all of this go away.” He pauses, watching me closely. “I know you were made aware of what I want. What I’ve been asking for since we were fifteen, in fact. I still want that, Boston. I don’t need a contract or a verbal agreement for anything. All I need is you. As my wife.” He reaches out then, a small frown forming when he’s forced to run his knuckles over the bandana rather than the skin on my cheek. “I will give you everything you could ever want. All you have to do is say yes, and it’s done.” A man who looks suspiciously like a wedding officiate steps forward with a nod, and I look from him to Philip.

“All you have to do is say yes and we’ll make this official here and now. You’ll be mine and there will be nothing that outsider you’re living with or anyone else can do about it.”

A frown pulls at my brows. A real one.

Because…what?

Philip doesn’t have the power to make this contract—that may or may not even exist anymore—with Enzo “go away.” He can’t promise no backlash for going back on an arrangement signed off on by my father and the Greyson Union. He can’t guarantee a clean sweep any more than he can promise peace among the rivaling organizations—something that will never happen.

“How?” I find myself rasping, though I’m not sure why I ask.

Everyone knows there’s only one way he could even allow those words to leave his mouth, let alone dare to push things this far, asking me to marry him on the spot when the man I’m supposed to marry waits for me at a different altar.

I thought he might ask me to consider his offer and find a way to stall the wedding or fuck, I don’t know.

But this?

This can only mean one thing.

Philip Mitchell has someone important on his side.

The question is…

Who the fuck is it?

I swallow, turning to Nicholas. “Should we grab my bag from the car?”

Nicholas smiles wide. His eyes lifting to the man over my shoulder in triumph.

I look back then, doing my best to soften my gaze. “Meet you under the arch in five?”

Philip lifts my left hand, my glove-covered hand, and I grind my teeth as his lips come down over the place Enzo’s name is imprinted. “Make it four?”

Forcing a low laugh, I pull away, following Nicholas to the car. I quickly pass him up, jolting to a stop and spinning toward him with wide, horror-filled eyes.

“What?” He tenses, head swiveling from right to left.

“I think there’s a cellphone in the glovebox. I totally forgot I asked the servants to stash it for me for an emergency. What if they track it?”

He throws himself at the car. “Fuck!” he shouts, tearing at the handle.

Quickly, I reach the back door, rip it open, and hurl myself inside.

Victoria squeezes my arm and jumps out, my bag hanging from her fingers.

I hear Nicholas’s sigh of relief and the car shakes, letting me know he’s climbed out. “No phone. They must have known not to give you an out in case you tried to run. Here, let me take the bag.”

Footsteps carry them away and I shake my head.

I didn’t want to have to do this; I was simply leading her to the man she was really after and then headed back to marry my man, but something tells me things are going to get interesting here and we have to stay to catch the final act. When the more venomous snake, the one I didn’t see coming, reveals himself. I tug my dress up, pressing the small button on the top of the ankle monitor, officially clicking the damn thing on.

I drop my head back, sighing into the car.

So much for a quick detour.