Page 91 of His Bride

There’s a slight form of relief sliding down my spine, knowing we’ve got two of our best assassins in place, ready to take out the fucker as soon as they get a clear shot. Their orders are to take it without hesitation. No hand signals or confirmation needed. A bullet between Aurelio's eyes is the ultimate goal.

My patience wears thin as our men move with stealthy precision, blending in seamlessly with the teeming crowd. “Maximo? Talk to me, man.”

The moment hangs in the air, a toxic vapor. My heart dips into my stomach and begins to buzz like a starved locust. Finally, he nods, and we’re out of the car into the torrential rain, hoods up and heads down.

Tonight…this ends.

Chapter 24

GIANA

I'm pushed into a chair, a rough hand clamping down on my shoulder while Aurelio pours himself and his guest a drink.

The room sprawls around me—a penthouse saturated in luxury, with floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the city's twinkling lights. But the splendor of Aurelio's wealth is lost on me; it's a gilded cage.

He raises his glass in a mock toast, eyes glinting menacingly under the low, cool-white lights. “To my future wife, a smart little bird for returning to her rightful owner,” he drawls, and the shadows dance at the edge of his mouth. He’s deliberately taunting me with the word ‘owner.’

Aurelio's guest, Frank, a burly man, watches me with eyes as cold as shards of ice. He, too, raises his glass, echoing his host's toast with a chuckle that sends shivers down my spine. He takes a swig from his glass, whiskey sloshing onto his moustache as he swallows.

After I jumped out of the car, I rushed down an alley, finding a hiding place quickly because I knew Caelian would come afterme, and I needed to get away. I had to get back to Aurelio if I wanted to do this my way—kill the son of a bitch for touching me and threatening my little brother.

If I had gone back to the estate with Caelian, he never would have let me leave, and together with his brothers, they would have dealt with Aurelio their way. And that’s not what I want. I want it my way. It’s what I’m owed.

The moment I returned to the fundraiser, Aurelio dragged me out of there, livid, spitting out threats like a Christmas list.

Now we’re here in this fancy penthouse, and I obey like the good girl I pretend to be—not because I respect his authority, but because it serves my purpose to appear submissive for now.

Aurelio walks over and holds out a glass of champagne for me. I hesitate, glaring up at him as I cross my legs. But his expression’s a silent warning, so I take the glass. For all I know, he might have roofied the thing, so I make a show of raising it to my lips but not taking a sip.

His eyes lock on to mine, and for a moment, those dark orbs flicker with something akin to amusement. He's enjoying this. The power play. The control.

“So, Caelian resorted to kidnapping. How did you get away?” He takes a seat, and Frank remains at the bar, leaning against the black granite.

“The car stopped at a red light. I jumped out. Ran. And that was that.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m here, aren’t I? And that’s all that matters to you, right?” I’m careful not to be too pliant as to raisesuspicion. He knows I’m stubborn, that I have a spine, unlike the women he’s used to, and I think that’s part of the play for him. He likes it.

Aurelio doesn’t reply right away, but the look in his eyes shows interest. He takes a deep drink of his whisky, his gaze never leaving my face. I can practically hear the gears turning in his mind.

When he leans forward, placing a hand on my bare knee, I struggle to keep the mask on. His touch sickens me, and it’s hard to keep my revulsion from showing. But I force a smile, one that doesn't reach my eyes, and keep my focus on the act.

“I suppose Caelian is still refusing the divorce?”

I nod. “He’s stubborn. It’s a control thing. But surely you have someone who can—for the lack of a better word—expeditethe situation.”

His expression hardens, his eyes flashing with something dangerous. “Unfortunately, my reach isn’t as far as the Dark Sovereign’s.” There’s a low note of envy in his voice. “But once I own the Belucci fortune, that’ll change.”

Not if I can help it.

I glance at the glass in my hand. The crystal flute could easily be a weapon under the right circumstances. The champagne’s bubbles are rising, popping. It's like watching a slow-moving sand timer, each bubble signifying a second passed, a second closer to ending this.

Aurelio is still watching me, his gaze predatory. Heavy. Unwelcome. “You're a brave woman, I’ll give you that.” It’s not admiration I read in his eyes. It’s malice, possession, evil intent.

“And I'm sure that's part of the allure. My courage and my father’s bank account,” I respond. His grip on my knee tightens slightly, and I resist the urge to pull away from him.

“Frank,” he calls without breaking eye contact with me, “my future wife, she’s a beautiful woman, don’t you think?”

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