Page 50 of His Bride

There’s a ring on my finger, and apparently that means something to me.

I stare at it. Then I get up and help myself to a drink from Alexius’ collection. I haven’t had one in about three hours, and the concept of what the ring means—I knowwhatit means, but that deeper level—needs some booze to help wipe it out.

Giana left me, and I probably deserved it, butfuck. We have rings. There were vows. We had a…a…thing.

I care.

“Leandra doesn’t like our plan.” I turn and sip my drink. “You know that, right?”

Isaia smacks me as he gets up, pours two more. “Manners, brother.”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Nicoli says. “I’ll be impersonating her husband who—thank God—has gone from critical to stable. So, he’ll eventually come back home, find out what we did, and probably shoot the lot of us.”

I raise my glass in salute to that. “He really is going to hate this plan. I can already see his face, all scrunched up and red like he has a live grenade in his ass. God, I love this plan.”

Isaia snickers. “My guess is he’ll shoot Nicoli first since he’s the one doing the impersonating.”

“And you two dickwads didn’t do anything to stop me,” Nicoli chimes in with a smug look on his face.

Isaia and I look at each other, and I say, “There’s a fifty-fifty chance he’ll shoot us first.”

“Regardless,” Nicoli says, “we are doing the right thing—the best thing we can in this situation. And Leandra knows that, too, so she didn’t object to Mirabella joining her wherever they’re keeping Alexius.”

“They’re protected, right?” Suddenly, I’m uneasy about the plan, because I trust Aurelio less than I do fuckin’ Giana’s asshole father.

Nicoli rolls his eyes as he accepts a drink from Isaia. “Handpicked by Maximo.”

For a long moment, there’s only silence. I lift a brow and glance at Nicoli. “So, where are they?”

“Are you serious?”

“I want to see my brother,” I say, reminding him that hasn’t changed.

“You know the deal,” he responds. “Besides, I don’t know their location either.”

“Are you saying you have absolutely no idea where they are? Where your pregnant wife is?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

I’m not sure I believe him; it’s his Mirabella we’re talking about. He’s not about to let her out of his watchful eye.

Jesus, I know Giana’s movements.

I know New York’s done a few very low-key things with her brother, and for the rest of the time, she stayed at the mansion. Because I’m having her protected. Watched. Mostly because I don’t trust her scumbag, slimy father, partly because it gives me peace of mind knowing she’s staying out of trouble and hasn’t done anything stupid yet—like seeing Aurelio.

I wonder if Nicoli knows I’m having her watched.

I almost scoff and choke on my sip of bourbon. Of course he knows. He just hasn’t brought it up, which is very Alexius of him. But I’m pretty sure Isaia has no clue. He has no clue in general. Clueless little prick.

This morning, he almost became clueless and dickless, little dick.

My little brother’s resorted to suicidal tendencies in his need to Dr. Phil me into confessing I’m in love with my wife. That’s right. I see through his snide, shitty remarks, trying to rile me up.

“It’s best if no one knows,” Nicoli continues. He looks distinctly unhappy about it. “For safety. This fucker might try to leverage them, and I for one don’t want anyone, and I mean anyone, having it tortured out of them.”

Isaia and I exchange a look. “You think you’re that weak?” I ask.

“No.” Nicoli takes a deep swallow of his drink and scowls, looking at something on his laptop—or rather, Alexius’ laptop. “I think you are.”

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