Page 25 of Beautiful Dangerous

“This is just the beginning.”

I look up at the sound of his voice. “The beginning?”

“Of everything you need to be.”

I frown, because I don’t understand what he means by that.

“We need to talk. Later. There is so much more for you to learn.” He starts to turn around, but stops himself, his eyes falling back on mine. “Do you regret it, Olivia?”

“Regret what?”

“All of this. Meeting me. Choosing my world over yours. Marrying me. Knowing what you know now, do you regret it?”

“What difference would it make if I did?”

He holds my gaze for a moment or two, and then he smiles a now familiar, slow smile before he turns and walks away.

My husband.

My world.

My god forsaken, dangerous, fucked up world…

Five

Lucca

“Couldn’t sleep, huh?”

I throw my jacket over the back of the couch and sit down in the chair opposite hers. She’s got her legs curled up underneath her, her long hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, her face free of that mask she insists on wearing. She looks younger. Tired. Sad.

“Sleep isn’t something that comes easy, to either of us. Is it?”

“No. It isn’t. How did the breaking the ground ceremony go?”

“Like clockwork. I smiled, shook hands, posed for the obligatory photographs… Building work begins next week.”

“And, what about Angel?”

“What about him?”

“He’s a Devil’s Creed brother, and people didn’t ask questions as to why he was with you?”

“No, because he wasn’t there. Nobody saw him.”

“I don’t understand…”

“He was far enough away to see everything that was going on, but remain invisible. I can do these things on my own, Lucca, I don’t need the ever-present bodyguard.”

“Yes, you do. You fucking do, Jesus, Olivia! You’re playing with fire here, people want you dead, you understand that, right?”

Her eyes settle on mine, her stare cold. “I understand perfectly, but I wasn’t at risk. Angel is as good as anySicario.”

“Yes, but that isn’t what he is.”

“Maybe not.”

“You need twenty-four-seven protection, and playing games…” I drop my head and sigh. “Please, don’t do this.” I look up, but her expression remains stoic. I can’t read her, at all. “Where’s Angel now?”

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