Page 33 of The Villain's Beloved (The Villain's Duet 2)

I was but pretended to be asleep. It was so damn hard to do as Saint had said—to keep quiet and not mention anything to Elijah. I wanted answers, and more than anything I wanted Elijah to tell me that he didn’t lie, that Saint had it all wrong. My heart was bleeding for the truth not to taint what I felt for Elijah.

I lay awake that night for hours thinking about what Saint had said. Was I a fool for doubting Elijah? For believing a man I hardly knew over the man I now called my husband?

The same man who kills people for a living.

The same man who kidnapped me.

I repeated the conversation with Saint over and over inside my head. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that Saint described Gianni’s supposed death almost precisely the way Elijah had described the death of my father. What did Saint have to gain by lying to me?

What does Elijah have to gain by lying to you?

There were too many questions, too many variables, and the more I tried to fit the pieces together, the less anything made sense. There had to be a way for me to figure out what the hell was going on.

I gently eased off the bed, trying my best not to wake up Elijah. He stirred, and I stilled, waiting for him to turn on his side.

My feet hit the plush carpet, and I barely breathed as I grabbed my nightgown and sneaked out of the room. The halls were extra cold. Maybe it was just my racing heart and frozen nerves, my desperation for none of what Saint had said to be true.

Entering the lavish dining room, I spotted Elijah’s laptop on the six-seater oak table. I glanced down the hall, wondering if I had time to do some research of my own while I waited for Saint to tell me what the hell was going on.

Of course, it was password-protected, and I sighed as I leaned back in the chair staring at the screen. I thought of a few possibilities of what it could be.

Ellie.

The Musician.

Password, one, two, three, four, five.

All predictable and highly unlikely. But then I thought about the music box, the one Elijah bought Ellie, but never got the chance to give it to her. And then it occurred to me…

The music box.

Edelweiss.

The song Elijah said he heard me play for the first time.

Hastily, I typed in the word, and the browser opened. Inching to the edge of my seat, I typed in the name Gianni Guerra, my pulse racing at a thousand miles an hour. Every two seconds I would look at the arched entrance of the dining room, expecting Elijah to walk around the corner at any moment. This was why I never did shit I wasn’t supposed to do—except marrying my kidnapper on a whim. But that wasn’t the point. The point was, I didn’t do stupid shit because it made me feel like I was going to have a heart attack at any moment and go straight to hell.

The search came up, and there was only one article toward the end of the page that mentioned Gianni Guerra's name.

SON OF NOTORIOUS MAFIA BOSS SPOTTED AT FUNERAL

Julio Bernardi was spotted making an appearance at suspected Mafia hitman Gianni Guerra’s funeral last Saturday.

Jesus.Saint was right. Gianni Guerra was dead, and the article was dated three years ago. Ice erupted through every vein, my heart hammering against my chest and spine at the same time. It was like someone sliced me wide open, and I was bleeding out, unable to stop it from happening.

What else was Elijah lying about? And most importantly, why?

I typed in the name Ellie Mariano and clicked enter just as I heard footsteps coming down the hall. My heart leaped up my throat, and I slammed the laptop shut before shooting upright and darting to the front of the table.

Elijah strolled in. “What are you doing in here?”

I could feel every drop of blood drain from my body, yet my cheeks burned and sweat trickled down my back. “I…um,” I lifted myself onto the table, “I was waiting for you.”

“You were?”

Christ. What the fuck do I do now?

You improvise, Charlotte. You survive.

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