Page 100 of Devil's Tulip

And when I find it, the whole thing unravels in my hands.

And yet the truth doesn’t surprise me one bit.

It was Aldo. He murdered his brother and his sister-in-law. And tried to kill his little niece too.

But the hitman he sent was sloppy. Thought the girl was already dead and didn’t bother wasting his bullet on her.

That motherfucker.

29

MICHAEL

It’s late as fuck when I finally drag my exhausted ass home, and except for the front lights, the rest of the house is dark. I roll my neck, trying to work out the crick as I walk into the foyer.

I start towards the stairs, my body craving the oblivion of sleep—until my parched throat protests.Fuck it. I pivot towards the living room instead, navigating through the darkness with the muscle memory of a man who knows every inch of this house. But just as my hand closes over the kitchen door handle, a flood of light suddenly blasts through the room.

I squint, momentarily blinded by the sudden brightness, going from pitch black to what feels like a goddamn spotlight.

It takes a couple of seconds for my vision to adjust, but I immediately make out the silhouette by the light switch. My hand goes to the handle of my gun, instincts kicking in—but even though I can’t see all that well yet, I recognize those curves, that stance…

It’s my wife.

I let go of the weapon’s grip and blink the last of the blurriness away. And yep, it’s my wife alright. She’s standing by the wall, arms crossed, glowering at me.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” she demands.

I stare at her uncomprehendingly. What is this? “What do you mean, what time is it?” But I can’t even bring myself to work up a temper. Not after what I just found out. Her entire life, she believed she lost her parents in a tragic accident. When the truth is that her uncle—the man who took her in, who raised her—was the one who had them murdered.

What must she have gone through at his hands? How much had she suffered, living under the roof of the man who stole everything from her? Especially knowing he tried to have her killed as well?

The weight of it crushes something in my chest.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m crossing the room, my palm cradling the back of her head, drawing her into me. My other hand locks around her waist like an anchor. My poor love. She has me now, and I’m never letting her go.

Nobody will ever dare hurt her again.

“Michael?” Her voice is muffled against my chest. “Is something wrong?”

“Can’t I just hug my beautiful wife?” The emotion in my voice betrays me, something raw and unfamiliar scraping my throat. I clear it quickly, adjusting my stance to press my lips against her hair, inhaling the scent that’s become my own personal addiction.

But then she stiffens in my arms and steps back, shoving at my chest violently. I raise a brow at the sudden shift, but before I can say a word, she rips into me.

“Where the hell have you been, Michael? Why is another woman’s perfume clinging to you? Were you with some bitch?”

My second brow joins the first at the lividness on her face and the venom in her voice. Then—oh.

She’s jealous. Actually fucking jealous.

Finally.

The realization sends a heady rush of satisfaction through my veins. She has to give a shit about me to be this pissed.

“Are you even listening to me? Why the fuck are you smiling, you bastard?” Her palm connects with my chest again, the sting of it delicious. “You can’t keep having unprotected sex with me if you’re just going to go out and fuck some sluts out there.”

Whatever amusement I had evaporates. My grip closes around her wrist, keeping her palm pressed against my chest. “You think I have space in my head for other women when you’ve occupied it so completely? Yes, work took me to a club tonight. Yes, women were there. Yes, some of them tried throwing themselves at me. Maybe their perfumes rubbed off on me. But do you know what I felt?” My grip tightens. “Irritation.”

She blinks up at me, lips parting in surprise at my outburst. Hell, I’ve surprised even myself with the raw honesty pouring out. But I won’t let her use our sex life as a weapon against me when I’ve done nothing wrong. I tighten my hold on her wrist more, ignoring her wince—needing her to feel some pain. To make damn sure she’s paying attention.

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