Page 151 of Bad Little Bride

Philip moves closer, and my eyes fall to the fresh scar on his neck from where Enzo used his flesh as a pinboard. He keepscoming until he’s two feet from me, then folds his arms in front of him with a million-dollar smile.

“I can make the contract disappear. No fault, no backlash. A clean sweep that makes all of this go away.” He pauses, watching me closely. “I know you were made aware of what I want. What I’ve been asking for since we were fifteen, in fact. I still want that, Boston. I don’t need a contract or a verbal agreement for anything. All I need is you. As my wife.” He reaches out then, a small frown forming when he’s forced to run his knuckles over the bandana rather than the skin on my cheek. “I will give you everything you could ever want. All you have to do is say yes, and it’s done.” A man who looks suspiciously like a wedding officiate steps forward with a nod, and I look from him to Philip.

“All you have to do is say yes and we’ll make this official here and now. You’ll be mine and there will be nothing that outsider you’re living with or anyone else can do about it.”

A frown pulls at my brows. A real one.

Because…what?

Philip doesn’t have thepowerto make this contract—that may or may not even exist anymore—with Enzo “go away.” He can’t promise no backlash for going back on an arrangement signed off on by my father and the Greyson Union. He can’t guarantee a clean sweep any more than he can promise peace among the rivaling organizations—something that will never happen.

“How?” I find myself rasping, though I’m not sure why I ask.

Everyone knows there’s only one way he could even allow those words to leave his mouth, let alone dare to push things this far, asking me to marry him on the spot when the man I’m supposed to marry waits for me at a different altar.

I thought he might ask me to consider his offer and find a way to stall the wedding or fuck, I don’t know.

But this?

This can only mean one thing.

Philip Mitchell has someone important on his side.

The question is…

Who the fuck is it?

I swallow, turning to Nicholas. “Should we grab my bag from the car?”

Nicholas smiles wide. His eyes lifting to the man over my shoulder in triumph.

I look back then, doing my best to soften my gaze. “Meet you under the arch in five?”

Philip lifts my left hand, my glove-covered hand, and I grind my teeth as his lips come down over the place Enzo’s name is imprinted. “Make it four?”

Forcing a low laugh, I pull away, following Nicholas to the car. I quickly pass him up, jolting to a stop and spinning toward him with wide, horror-filled eyes.

“What?” He tenses, head swiveling from right to left.

“I think there’s a cellphone in the glovebox. I totally forgot I asked the servants to stash it for me for an emergency. What if they track it?”

He throws himself at the car. “Fuck!” he shouts, tearing at the handle.

Quickly, I reach the back door, rip it open, and hurl myself inside.

Victoria squeezes my arm and jumps out, my bag hanging from her fingers.

I hear Nicholas’s sigh of relief and the car shakes, letting me know he’s climbed out. “No phone. They must have known not to give you an out in case you tried to run. Here, let me take the bag.”

Footsteps carry them away and I shake my head.

I didn’t want to have to do this; I was simply leading her to the man she was really after and then headed back to marry myman, but something tells me things are going to get interesting here and we have to stay to catch the final act. When the more venomous snake, the one I didn’t see coming, reveals himself. I tug my dress up, pressing the small button on the top of the ankle monitor, officially clicking the damn thing on.

I drop my head back, sighing into the car.

So much for a quick detour.

Chapter

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