Page 14 of She's My Queen

“I overheard Gio speaking with Peter Monroe, who is a retired pilot.”

Gordon squeezes my shoulder, comforting me. He grabs two beers from behind the bar and returns to stand beside me. He pops the caps open and hands a bottle to each of us.

I take mine.

Severio refuses.

Gordon starts drinking it. “And?”

Severio makes a strangled noise, almost hissing like a snake.

“And Peter said the plane will be ready at five.”

Severio checks his watch. “About four hours from now.”

“What do you want to do?” Gordon asks.

Severio grabs his gun.

I tense.

He rests it on his thigh and starts tapping the barrel with two long, masculine fingers. “I’ll finish with her, then decide.”

Oh my God. “No, no, no, please no…”

“Shhhh.” Severio presses the side of the weapon’s barrel against my lips. “You must stop begging.”

Wide-eyed, I stare, the cold weapon still pressed against my lips.

Severio nods at Gordon, who exits the villa.

Wait what? One moment, Gordon’s firmly defending me, and now he’s gone. I’m as good as dead. The last good knight has left my castle, and I’m in the chamber with the villain.

Seconds stretch. Time drags as my heart pounds, my eyes locked with his blue ones. I’m pleading, silently, telling him I’m a good girl who told him about Gio now.Spare me, please.

Severio sets the gun back on the bar.

You’d think I’d be relieved the weapon was away from my face, but I’m not. I can’t take my eyes off it, and he does thatthing again where he touches my jaw and forces me to look at him.

“Do you know that when you keep eyeballing my Walther, it makes me think you want to take it?”

“Oh, I hate guns. Weapons in general. I’m a peacemaker.” I make praying hands again. “Amen. Namaste.”

“I end people who take my things.”

“I understand.”

Severio holsters the weapon behind his pants. “I don’t have a lot of opportunity to spend time with birds.” He reaches for the tray Gordon used, which puts his shoulder and the side of his neck right in front of my face. As he’s moving things around on the tray, his cologne tickles my senses. He smells good.

Severio pulls the tray to his side, picks up a pair of clean gloves, slips them on, then starts to clean the top of my chest. When he turns on the gun, I lean back.

“Stay still,” he says.

“Do you have to do the front?” I ask.

“Yes.” Sounds like he might’ve suppressed an eye roll.

“That’s… Can I ask that you make it so it doesn’t show when I wear a V-neck?”

---