Page 134 of Villainous Kingpin
Bas remained next to me, the outline of his gun pressing at my back. A reminder if I did something stupid, it could end up in bloodshed. I wouldn’t risk it, but I had to know she was okay.
“She’s okay,” Uncle assured me. “Juliette, Davina, and Ivy are with her.”
“Don’t… Don’t leave her alone, okay?” I whispered.
“Never.”
Ignoring Bas’ hold on me, Uncle wrapped his hands around me and hugged me. It was kind of awkward with Bas at my back, allowing me to hug him with only one hand.
And then Sasha, God help him… or me… took a step forward and pulled me into a hug, tugging Bas right along.
“Hurt a single hair on her head, and you’re dead,” Sasha growled.
“Bring it on, blondie,” Bas answered in a dark voice. Bas’ lips curved into a snarl, his eyes hard and unrelenting. “And don’t touch my woman again. Or I’ll tear you apart.”
“Fucking Italian devil,” Sasha spat back at him.
“Russian prick,” Bas sneered.
“Jesus, is this high school,” I hissed. “I’ll be fine,” I told Sasha in Russian and smiling confidently. “You’ve taught me well.” Something dangerous flickered in Bas’ eyes and I quickly added, “Bye, Sasha.”
CHAPTER55
Basilio
The door shut behind the Russian prick and it was only then that I let go of Wynter’s arm.
Brennan and I shook on the wedding, and only the wedding. It was a reluctant and barely civil accord. I didn’t give a shit, as long as Wynter was with me. I told him, I’d take care of the wedding. He’d get the time and place.
“Eager to save him, huh?” I taunted her in a dark voice, but truthfully, I was so fucking jealous a red mist covered my vision.
Wynter glanced at me and shrugged.
“Sasha doesn’t need saving,” she spat back. “And if you’d kept a cool head, you’d have seen that.”
A snicker sounded behind me and I followed it to where my cousins and sister stood, all three watching us.
“Cool head and Basilio when it comes to you don’t go in the same sentence,” my sister announced.
“Emory,” I warned.
“It’s true,” she argued back. “And you know it is, so save us all the headache and listen to your soon-to-be-wife.”
Wynter stiffened for a moment, her breathing stilled and her eyes darted to me.
She swallowed before she asked, “When?”
“This Saturday,” I told her. If I could even wait that long. “We’ll get married in St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York.”
“Hopefully it doesn’t turn into a bloody wedding,” Emory remarked.
“I have to echo the sentiment,” Wynter repeated, looking at me pointedly. I ignored her insinuation. I couldn’t make her any promises on that account. If someone attempts to take her away from me, there would be bloodshed. No way around it.
“Want to go for a walk?” I asked instead.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Why?” she asked suspiciously.
“It’s been two days and you’ve been cooped up.” She remained still, as if she didn’t trust me to take her outside. “Let’s go,” I ordered her.
