Page 62 of Devil's Tulip

“Was I mistaken?”

I shake my head slowly, unsure how to answer the question. “It’s just… a surprise that he told you.” Since I wasn’t even aware of the fact myself—him calling me his bride-to-be in front of my uncle doesn’t count.

Mrs. Monti smiles again. “He usually doesn’t share personal information with me, but this is important news.”

Indeed it is.

I’m going to kill that asshole when I see him. Because there’s no way in hell I’m marrying Michael Hart.

18

MICHAEL

I press a finger against the fucker’s head, and it lolls to the side, lifeless. He’s dead.

Damn it. I was too angry—came in on him too strong. I wanted to draw it out, make him feel every second of his miserable end. But I let the rage take over. Now that opportunity is gone.

Lorenzo hands me a wipe, and I scrub the blood off my hands as best as I can. It’ll have to do until I can take a proper shower.

“What do we do about his body?” he asks.

“Decapitate him,” I say, tossing the soiled wipe aside. “Wrap his head up for me and send the rest of his body to Aldo.”

Lorenzo shakes his head like I’m crazy. I narrow my eyes, and he quickly raises his hands.

“Can I know what you want to do with his head?”

“No, you cannot.” I walk past him, leaving the interrogation room and my order in his hands. Up the stairs, through the shed, and out into the late afternoon sun—its harsh glare hits me square in the face, momentarily blinding me. I was in there longer than I thought.

I slip through the back entrance into the main house, avoiding the main areas. I don’t know where Gianna is, and I sure as hell don’t want to risk running into her covered in her cousin’s blood. Not that I think she’d care about his death—she hates him. But still, I’d rather not shove the evidence in her face right now.

Taking the back stairs two at a time, I head for the left wing, reserved mainly for guests—but she won’t be there. I made sure of that. She should be in the right wing,mywing, where she rightfully belongs.

Gracie better have followed my instructions.

I go into one of the several guest bedrooms and fire off a quick text to one of my men for a fresh set of clothes before stripping down and stepping into the shower. Anticipation fills my being as I scrub my body clean, tilting my neck back so the water can spray into my face.

She’s here.

In my house.

Where no one can ever dare take her from me.

And soon, she’ll be mine completely—in name and truth.

My cock hardens at the thought, and I drag my hand down my length to the barbell piercing at the head, giving it a sharp tug to keep myself in check.

There’s no time to rub one out right now. I need to talk to her first. See her face and her reaction to my proposition.

I cut the water and grab a towel, drying off quickly. When I get to the bedroom, a fresh pair of clothes are already waiting for me on the bed, so I toss my towel aside and get dressed.

Rolling my neck to ease the lingering tension, I leave the guest bedroom and make my way the right wing. This time, I hope—expect—to cross paths with my little birdie, but I don’t, and I have to taper down my disappointment as I go into my office.Soon.

I sink into my chair and boot on my computer, fingers drumming against the desk as I pull up the security feed. If I can’t see her in person yet, I’ll settle for watching her.

A grin pulls at my lips when I spot her—in my bedroom.

She’s pacing, practically wearing a hole in the floor, her lips moving as she waves her hands aggressively. I lean back, amused.

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