Page 39 of Till Death Do Us Part

Fanning my face with my palm, I sip my drink taking in the room. Bodies writhe on the dancefloor, a mass of arms and legs while they lose themselves in one another and the music. When I spot Leonardo in the corner, his back leant against the wall and his hands in his pockets, a flush spreads over my cheeks.

He watches me, his eyes travelling over my body lazily with a smirk on his face. I move my gaze away quickly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I push off the wall, moving towards the doors that will take me out to the gardens. The bitter air hits my skin, chilling me, and I let out a slow breath.

My feet carry me towards an old rickety swing that sits on the open patio. The wood has seen better days, creaking when I drop down and push my legs until I’m swinging slowly. Wind slaps at my cheeks, my hair flowing messily behind me while the momentum lulls me into blissful peace—until footsteps sound across the patio, coming towards me.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were avoiding me, Princess.”

“Why would I possibly do that, Leonardo?” I quip sarcastically, keeping my gaze locked on the gardens in front of me. His heat surrounds me when he wraps a palm around the rope, stopping the swing before sliding onto the bench next to me.

“You tell me,” he murmurs, cupping my jaw and pulling my face to his. Our thighs touch as he leans closer, and there’s not nearly enough air between us. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“Maybe your company isn’t as exciting as you think it is,” I deadpan, though I don’t pull away.

“Now I know that’s not the truth.” His thumb swipes over my skin, the calloused pad stopping when he reaches the corner of my lips. My eyes lock on his, a brow raised when he runs that thumb over my bottom lip, tugging my mouth open for a second before resuming his caress. “I thought we were friends, Princess.”

“Friends don’t make friends cheat on their husbands.”

“Is it really cheating when you don’t love your husband?” he retorts, asking the question that has been on my mind since that day. I’d like to say no, but I doubt it’s the truth. We said vows. We promised a lifetime under the watchful eyes of God.

There’s a lot of doubt in my mind when it comes to the great divine, but a small part of me still believes. Maybe it’s the little girl who still lives inside of me, the girl who spent her Sundays at church with her papá at her side.

“I could, you know,” I answer, dipping my gaze. “Love him.”

“Do you?” he asks, his voice cold as ice. My head snaps to his, my eyes widening at the intensity staring back at me. “Do you love him?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business. He’s my husband. That’s the only thing that matters, right?”

He opens his mouth, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he stares at me. He doesn’t get to say anything before loud shouts and screams come from inside the mansion followed by scrambling guests pouring into the gardens, their feet carrying them across the grass as Antonio’s men pull their weapons free.

“A terra, c’è una bomba,” Antonio shouts when he rushes towards his men, his face an ashen white as he stares back at the house. Leonardo stands, pulling me into his back as he watches. Horror sounds out behind us, the house going up into flames before Antonio shouts again. “Tutti a terra, c’è una bomba.”

My heart races, my eyes widening as my brain scrambles with the translation.

Get down, there’s a bomb.

Holy shit.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Thefirstexplosionissmall. Anticlimactic, if I’m being honest. Leonardo tosses me to the ground when the blast comes, his heavy body shielding mine, but it seems redundant. The mansion does little more than rattle on its foundation.

Leonardo remains a solid wall above me, his hands on the grass at the sides of my head. While the others around us let out sighs of relief, he stays tense. His face is etched in agitation, maybe even disbelief.

Pressing my palms to his shoulders, I try to push him off, but he only leans into me harder, forcing my back into the muddy grass.

“Stay down,” he growls, running his hands over my shoulders and down my arms before he stops at my hands, pulling them upwards while he threads his fingers through mine. The touch is intimate, warm and welcoming. Even when it shouldn’t be. “This isn’t over yet.”

“What do you mean? The explosion was minor, I think we’re fine to move, Leonardo. Anyway, you’re squishing me.” Technically not a lie, he is. However, that isn’t the reason I need him to move. The way his body moulds to mine, his heat blanketing every inch of me, is disconcerting.

It’s too familiar.

Too perfect.

As though our bodies were made for one another.

“That was just the first,” he tells me, raising a brow incredulously at me. “You really think someone planning to bomb the home the Capo lives, when all his men are around, isn’t wanting to take at least half of them out?”

“Maybe it’s just a warning. Whoever set it probably did so just to scare us.”

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