Page 1 of The Housemaid's Wedding
PROLOGUE
This man is goingto kill me.
There is murder in his eyes. I’ve seen enough in my lifetime to recognize the danger that I’m in. This man will not wait for an explanation. He will not even allow me a split second to catch my breath. He willendme.
It’s just the two of us in this stifling, claustrophobic space. He made certain of that—he stalked me and waited until the moment I was alone, then he locked the door behind us. Now here we are.
And he can do whatever he wants to me. Nobody knows I’m here.
My nose is bruised, possibly broken. Blood streams from my nostrils in warm rivulets, dripping down my lips. It tastes metallic. Slamming his fist into my nose is one of the first things he did to me, before even saying hello. It was his way of letting me know he means business.
“I will break every single bone in your body,” he hisses at me.
He means it. Oh God, hedefinitelymeans it.
I never thought my day would end up this way. If I had known—if I had any idea at all what this man would do to me—I would have made very different decisions this morning. I thought I could handle this, but from the beginning, I was in over my head. I had no idea.
It’s my fault I’m here. I made a terrible mistake.
And now it’s too late.
1
MILLIE
“I’m goingto cut your throat, Millie Calloway.”
Those words arenothow you want to be woken up first thing in the morning.
But here I am, groggy from the deep, dream-filled sleep that I was wrenched from by this early-morning phone call. I’m holding the phone to my ear, wondering if the harsh whispered threat I just heard was part of a dream I was still having. After all, who gets woken up by somebody promising to cut their throat?
Well, me, apparently.
“Excuse me?” I say into the phone, my voice still scratchy with sleep.
I roll over in bed to prop myself on my side, rubbing my eyes to wake myself up. Maybe I heard them wrong. Maybe instead of cutting my throat, the stranger on the other end of the line actually wants to cut the costs of my car insurance.
“You heard me,” the male voice growls, his voice low and ominous. “You stuck your nose in thewrongplace,and now you’re going to pay the price.” A brief pause follows for me to absorb this new piece of information, and then:
“I’m going to kill you slowly and painfully, Millie Calloway.”
Nope, not a dream. This is most definitely real and clearly meant for me, as evidenced by the repeated use of my full name. I can’t pretend this is some sort of wrong number or spam call. But it’s not the first death threat I have received, and it won’t be the last.
I’m not thrilled about the fact that it arrived on my wedding day, though.
They say rain on your wedding day is good luck. Death threats on your wedding day? Probably not so much. Still, I know exactly how to deal with this asshole.
“Go to hell,” I reply calmly, then I jam my thumb into the red button on the screen to end the call.
I toss my phone back onto the nightstand, where it has spent the evening charging, next to the mouth guard that is supposed to keep me from grinding my teeth at night, if I could ever remember to pop it in before bedtime. I refuse to let that call get to me. I have a tendency to do things that piss people off, and occasional death threats are to be expected, but they have never proven to be more than empty words. It’s something I’ve grown used to.
I willnotlet it ruin this day.
I roll my head to look over at my fiancé, who is stirring beside me. Enzo might have been awakened by the ringing of my phone, but thank God, he did not hear what that jerk said to me. If he got any inkling thatsomebody was threatening me, he would’ve been furious. He would have tried to make a big deal out of it—maybe even suggested going to thepolice—and that’s the last thing I want today. Like I said, it was surely just empty words.
Today will not be about some insecure asshole. Today is going to be about me and Enzo becoming husband and wife.
“Millie?” he murmurs, his Italian-accented voice thick with sleep. “Who was on the phone?”
