Page 63 of Bad Little Bride

“Iam your weapon.”

I grit my teeth and his chest rumbles.

I expect him to argue, to fight me as he seems to love to do, but instead he steps back, walking over to the shelves on the wall near the bed.

He glares at me as he bangs his fist against the backing, and I watch as a small compartment lowers, a sleek, silver pistol sitting on a bed of blue velvet, two clips nestled beside it. My brows jump in shock, but his frown holds strong as he moves to the built-in case on the opposite side and does the same, this time revealing a set of knives in order of smallest to largest, left to freaking right, just the way I like it.

A smile breaks across my face as I stare at the beauties, and I rush over, lifting the largest from its place.

It’s so pretty, the soft, dusty pink not unlike my ring. Almost shimmery, both handle and blade. Running my finger over the tip, I press it into my pointer. Immaculately sharp.

Lifting it closer, my teeth chew at the inside of cheek, my lips still curved high when I spot the small detail I didn’t notice at first glance.

Etched into the lowest point of the blade, is the letter B.

Could be the manufacturer.

Could be generic, a gift from some random site when you googlewhat’s a good gift for a bride.

Granted, I’m not sure what bridal site would sell throwing knives and there’s no trademark symbol that confirms the logo is in fact one.

No. The B is for Boston. These were made with me in mind.

My grip grows a little tighter.

They were made just for me…

Enzo’s stare burns into my cheek, so I chance a glance at him, finding a strange look on his face.

Unease grows within me, and I slowly lower the knife back into the box. “What?”

He blinks, a small smile pulling at his lips. “That might have been the first smile I’ve earned, and it wasn’t even over the case of diamonds I offered, but a simple blade set.”

“I can’t kill you with diamonds.” My tease is far less sassy than intended. “And they’re not simple.”They’re perfect…but I didn’t mean to say that.

My eyes slice to his and he tips his head a little, regarding me in this lazy, sexy way he’s seemed to perfect.

Enzo holsters his weapon, moving to the balcony to step out and look over the railing, so I grab the gun he dropped when I stabbed him with the heel and carry it over to the bed, setting it beside me as I lower on top. He glances back, taking in the freshly made bed with a frown, his gaze falling to the pillow pad beneath his feet.

“You slept outside.”

I purse my lips, nodding. “I’m realizing now that may not have been the best idea.”

“A real threat would never make it as far as this balcony.”

“There are always weak spots to be found,” I repeat my father’s famous words.

“Not where your security is concerned,” he promises, eyes holding strong on my face before lowering, reminding me I’m in nothing but a satin cami and short set.

I jump up, walking backward into the closet, if only to hide my imperfections.

“Um.” I grab a robe and tie it around me before stepping into the bathroom. “Let me fix the mess I made before you stain something.”

Enzo frowns until he sees the first aid kit, and when I point to the edge of the bed, I swear a grin ghosts his lips as he does what he’s told. I half wonder if it’s the first time in his life he’s ever listened but decide against asking as much.

It’s a perfect circle of a cut, right over the bone of his left forearm. It’s not a spot that bleeds much, yet I still nod to myself, impressed with the damage. I bet those heels would go through someone’s neck if need be. Now that would be a bloody mess.

“At least it won’t affect your dominant hand.”

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