Page 77 of Fear Me, Love Me

“Tyrant…” she says slowly, in a way that tells me she’s about to say something I won’t like.

“What is it?” I reply, tensing up, but my voice is carefully even.

“I put flowers on Samantha’s grave today.”

I slowly relax. Is that all? “Did you, angel?”

“I was feeling sad for her, and the way she died. She wasn’t good to me, but she loved Barlow like I love Barlow. I wanted to say goodbye.”

Goodbye seems like an excellent sentiment to me. “Whatever you need to put the past behind you,” I tell her, trailing my fingers across the backs of her shoulders.

Vivienne is silent for a moment, and then she asks, “You wrecked Julia’s family, didn’t you?”

I meet her gaze in the mirror. They got off lightly. I wanted to kill them, and I still might. It depends on how angry their memories make me and if I believe they’re suffering enough to go on breathing. “They destroyed themselves. I just nudged things in the right direction. Are you going to tell me I was wrong to do that?”

A smile tugs at her lips. “No. I’m not. I’m going to say thank you, Tyrant. I’m relieved that they aren’t living happily ever after somewhere else. You were right.”

I get to my feet, cross the room, and growl as I pull her closer. “Fuck, it makes me hard hearing you say that.”

“You were right, Tyrant.”

“Mm-mm,” I hum appreciatively, kissing her throat. “What else do I love to hear?”

She reaches back and strokes the nape of my neck with her fingers. “I’m Tyrant’s good girl. I’m Tyrant’s slut. Please, please fuck me hard.”

I lift her up in my arms and carry her toward the bed. “Anything for my woman.”

* * *

The church is filledwith light and flowers as I wait impatiently at the altar, my hands clasped together. The pews are filled with family, friends, and my closest associates and their wives and children. I wish there were more people here from the bride’s side, but her family is all dead, and she’s short by one of her two friends since Julia and her family left town.

Camilla and Vivienne have grown closer and closer to one another. They’re almost the same age, and they have a great deal in common. She’s making some of my people her people as well. These days, my housekeeper Angela and my driver Liam are more on her side than mine. Last week, Angela scolded me when Vivienne accidentally bumped her elbow against the doorframe. When I pointed out I wasn’t at home, she told me I should have been there. I kissed my woman’s bruise with a smile, telling her that I would rip out the doorframe if it was what she wanted. Angela thought seriously about whether we should do it for an hour.

My brother Ace is my best man, and he’s standing by my side. He must notice how tightly I’m clasping my hands as he remarks, “I’ve never seen you nervous before. Afraid she’s not coming?”

“No. I’m impatient. I know she’s here.” My bride has a tracker in her neck, and I set my phone in my pocket to buzz the moment she’s within fifty feet of me. It buzzed ten minutes ago. Whereisshe?

At the other end of the church, the double doors open, but only wide enough for Camilla to slip through and hurry down the aisle toward me in her soft violet bridesmaid dress. Everyone in the church turns around to look at her expectantly, but then they all go back to their murmured conversations when they realize it’s not the bride.

Camilla comes up to me and whispers, “Everything’s fine. Vivienne’s making last-minute adjustments to her dress in one of the side rooms. She’s anxious for everything to be perfect for you.”

I glare along the church aisle at the big double doors. Anxious? My woman is pregnant. She can’t be anxious about anything. I push past my sister and stride down the aisle, my footsteps echoing on the tiles. A murmur of consternation travels around the church, but the guests are not my concern; Vivienne is.

I push through the double doors, spy a door leading off to one side, and yank it open.

Vivienne whirls around with a gasp. Her skirt spreads out around her and her bodice shimmers and sparkles. There’s a small bump where her stomach is, her dark hair is pinned up with curls framing her face, and a long white veil cascades down her back.

My breath catches in my throat. Vivienne has always been beautiful, even while I was resenting her for being so perfect. Even while sobbing her heart out. Wearing a masquerade mask. Filled with fear. Covered in blood. Especially while covered in blood. But now, seeing her dressed up so beautifully and knowing that it’s for me?

Vivienne clenches her hands on her skirt and her voice is anguished. “Oh, no, Tyrant, it’s bad luck for you to see me before the wedding.” Her eyes are huge and worried, and there’s a line between her brows.

I take a quick glance over her but she looks immaculate to me. “What is the problem?”

Vivienne’s eyes widen and she can’t seem to get any words out. “I…”

I stride forward and clasp the side of her neck and stroke her jaw with my thumb while glaring down at her. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

A small smile appears on her lips. “Why are you saying these words while looking so ferocious?”

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