Page 45 of Till Death Do Us Part

Make-up sits on the nightstand, a hair dryer and hairbrush next to it. I don’t let my thoughts linger on who they might belong to, knowing I don’t have the right. It takes longer to cover the mark than it should, and when it’s disappeared from my skin, hiding under the layers of make-up, I miss the sight of it.

I toss my hair into a sleek ponytail and dress quickly. When I’m ready, I sit on the bed and drop my head into my hands. Blowing out a shaky breath, I force my mind to focus on what’s coming next instead of wallowing in pity and confusion.

Leonardo comes to get me an hour later, saying nothing as he leads us down the apartment building and into the underground garage. A large black SUV waits for us there, Antonio already sitting in the back while Leonardo moves around to the passenger seat, leaving me no choice but to climb in next to my husband.

The car is quiet, filled with tense energy, as Nico rolls out of the building and drives away from the city lights and towards darkness. I know little of the plan for this evening, just that my job is to sit in the car and wait.

Wait for them to prove themselves, or some shit like that.

Seems redundant.

Instead of attacking the enemy, they should strengthen their walls first.

Starting a war when you have a rat in your midst doesn’t seem the best strategy in the world. And I can’t imagine tonight will end with anything less than bloodshed and destruction.

We finally pull up to a nightclub at least an hour away from the city. Nico lets the car idle on the kerb, his fingers clenched around the steering wheel.

The street is littered with people, men and women stumbling around as they chase whatever high they’re seeking for the night. Lights flicker from the windows, enticing you to lose your inhibitions and fall prey to delicious debauchery.

But that’s not whywe’rehere.

Antonio steps out first, spearing me with a glare as he orders me to stay put. Nico hands me a burner phone before following him, the numbers I need pre-programmed for if things go south. Though how I’m supposed to know that with the street as busy as it is with unrecognisable faces, I haven’t a clue.

Leonardo stays in his seat, his eyes focused out the window while my hands twist awkwardly in my lap, the phone balanced between my thighs. He opens his mouth as though to say something but clamps it shut before turning to face me with hard eyes.

“I feel like I at least need coffee and donuts,” I tease, watching in satisfaction as a slight twitch lifts the corner of his mouth before he schools his expression once more.

“You don’t even drink coffee,” he mutters, cocking his head slightly before reaching into the glove compartment and pulling out something that has my face lifting into a wide smile. “Anyone comes within an inch of this car, you roll the window down and shoot, got it?”

I clap excitedly, reaching over and snatching my SIG Sauer from him like a kid at Christmas. Tension I didn’t know I was carrying releases from me in waves as I grip the metal handle. My eyes lock on his, my smile widening at his scowl when I try to thank him.

“I need you to agree, Princess,” he warns, leaning over the centre console and resting his hand on my thigh. Even with the denim barrier, my skin burns where he holds me.

“What am I agreeing to?” I ask, almost groaning when his thumb runs over the seam of my thigh.

He rolls his eyes, a ghost of a smile passing on his lips. “Shoot first.”

“Always,” I agree, placing my hand on his and squeezing lightly as dread forms in my stomach. “You’ll be safe, right?”

“You worried about me?” he asks, a brow raised as he watches me. I shrug, a flush heating my face under his scrutiny. Admitting aloud that my feelings are becoming much more than lust isn’t something I’m open to doing—things are already far too complicated with everything else going on.

A tap on the window pulls his attention from me, though his hand lingers a moment more. He grabs the handle, pushing the passenger door open. With a final lingering look, his eyes telling me something I can’t read, he steps out of the car and leaves me in silence.

The three men walk down the street, their strides confident as they make their way to the doors of the nightclub. I wish I was feeling some of that confidence, but the only thing I feel is sick.

Climbing over the console, I drop into the driver’s seat, pulling in a deep breath. Time passes slowly while I wait, and eventually rain pours, soaking the streets as people rush past to escape the elements.

I tighten my grip on my gun, holding it flush to my thigh. The waiting is the worst, and my mood plummets the longer I sit here staring out of the car window. There is no sign of the men, no sign that the others Antonio brought in are even here yet.

After an hour passes, I become twitchy. Maybe Antonio was right. I should have stayed back at the penthouse. I pull the keys from the ignition, stepping out of the car, and shoving them in my back pocket.

This is a terrible idea, and yet the more I think about it, the more I know I don’t have the patience to wait for them to come back. Sliding my gun into the waistband of my jeans, I tug my sweater down, concealing the handle as I start towards the club.

When I reach the door, I offer a confident smile to the doormen, sending a silent prayer they don’t ask to see my ID. Sure, at twenty-one I can legally drink in America, but since I don’t have any of my personal belongings given the bombing of the mansion, I have no way to prove my age.

They eye me for a moment before the stockier one of the two nods his dark head at me and pulls the door open to let me pass, and I blow out a breath of relief.

Bright lights assault my eyes the moment I step onto the tiled floor. Music echoes off the walls, the sounds of drums and bass pulling the patrons to the dancefloor. Arms wave in the air, hips writhe and grind, and all the while, I see none of the men I’ve come inside to search for.

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