Page 57 of Bloody Vows
The flight back to Miami is the longest of my life. I try to work, try to focus on the stack of contracts in my briefcase, but all I can think about is Simone sitting across from another man, listening to whatever poison he's whispering in her ear. My mood is only made fouler by the fact that I was lectured not only by my father but also byKonstantin,who expressed concern about the discord in my marriage. About the fact that my wife would think it’s appropriate to meet with a man who not only was meant to be her husband instead of me, but is, on account of that, a man who might want what I have still.
Enzo Torrino. The man she was supposed to marry before I came along, before Konstantin rearranged the chessboard and made her mine. I know enough about him to know he's dangerous—not in the obvious way, not like the criminals and enforcers who riddle our world, but in the subtle way of a man who believes he's entitled to things that don't belong to him.
Things like my wife.
By the time we land in Miami, I've worked myself into a cold rage. Vitto meets me at the airport, his face carefully neutral as he fills me in on the details.
"She hasn't tried to leave her room since I locked her in. Nora's been bringing her meals, but she's barely eating. Hasn't asked about you, hasn't tried to call anyone."
"What about security footage from the restaurant?"
"I've got our guy pulling it now. Should have something within the hour."
"No. I want to hear it from her first."
Vitto nods, understanding. This is between my wife and me. Whatever games she's playing, whatever plans she's making, we're going to settle it face to face.
The drive to the mansion passes in tense silence. I can feel Vitto watching me in the rearview mirror, probably wondering what’s going to go down between Simone and me when I getback to the mansion. The truth is, I don't know what I'm going to do. The rage burning in my chest is unlike anything I've ever felt—pure, primal possessiveness mixed with something that feels dangerously close to betrayal.
She'smine. I married her, claimed her, made her my wife in every way that matters. I saved her life. And she repays that by sneaking around behind my back with another man.
The thought of her leaving me, of choosing someone else, makes me feel like I'm drowning. And that startles me, makes me feel a driving need to get to her and regain control of the situation, because she shouldn’t affect me like this. I shouldn’t feel as if I’d lose something vital if Enzo took her from me.
I should only feel rage that any other man thinks he’s entitled to what’s mine.
The moment the car rolls to a stop, I step out, striding straight into the mansion and to the stairs, all the way up to Simone’s room. I don’t bother knocking or announcing my presence, only fit the key into the lock and open the door, stepping inside and shutting it firmly behind me.
She's standing by the window, her back to me, wearing a simple maxi dress that flows over her slender curves and splits up one side, giving me a view of her long, tanned leg. She looks gorgeous, her hair up in a messy bun on her head, strands of it brushing the back of her neck. My fingers itch to trace those same lines, and I curl my hands into fists, fighting back the urge to go to her and touch her.
I’m in control here. That’s what she needs to take away from this conversation, not whatever weakness I have for her.
"Hello, Simone."
She turns sharply, and I see the moment she takes in my appearance—my rumpled suit, my clear exhaustion, the barely controlled fury in my eyes. But she doesn't back down, doesn'tshow fear. Instead, she lifts her chin in that defiant gesture I know so well.
"Tristan. How was Vegas?"
"Educational." I move into the room slowly, letting her feel the weight of my presence. "But not as educational as your lunch date yesterday, I’m sure."
I see her throat work as she swallows, but her voice remains steady. "I don't know what you mean."
My jaw tightens as I realize she’s going to try lying. She must know that I’ve found out, but she’s going to call my bluff.
Fine. I didn’t just get back from Vegas for nothing.
"Don't you?" I stop in front of her, close enough to see the rapid pulse at her throat. "Tell me,célie, what did Enzo Torrino want to discuss that was so important he risked my displeasure?" I look down at her, wanting her to feel me looming over her. “I could crush him like an insect, Simone. He should know that. So what did he want to tell you so badly?
Something flickers in her eyes that looks like a hint of fear, but she doesn't give ground. "That's between him and me."
The defiance in her voice, the way she's standing there like a queen addressing a subject, ignites something primal in my chest. She's my wife, my responsibility, mypropertyaccording to the laws that govern our world. And she's looking at me like I have no right to know what she does, who she sees, what plans she makes.
My teeth grind together. "Is it? We'll see about that."
I run a hand through my hair, trying to get control of my temper. The flight, the lack of sleep, the three days of missing her—it's all crashing together into a perfect storm of rage and possession. “I know you met with him, Simone. And I know that nothing short of somethingveryimportant would cause a man like him to risk angering not only me but Konstantin. We’ll stay in this room until I find out the answers, so…”
Simone laughs, a high, bitter sound. “What are you going to do, Tristan? Beat it out of me? Fuck it out of me?God, that sounds so fucking tiresome. Fine. You want to know what happened? I’ll tell you.”
“What did I tell you about that mouth,célie?” I growl, my hand coming up to wrap around the back of her neck. “The next thing out of it better be the truth, or…”
