Page 9 of Till Death Do Us Part

Before I can say anything further, shouts fly across the room as guns are drawn and aimed on the flowing curtains at the entrance to the tent. My father hisses, standing to his full height and pulling out his gun. There is no one there that I can see, but the dramatics won’t be for nothing—that I’m sure of.

“Pippa,” Papá warns, his voice little more than a growl as he watches me pull my dress upwards, my hand sliding under the ivory material to reach the spot where most women wear a garter on their wedding day.

The thing about me though, I’m not most women.

I’m not the obedient bride, or the perfect little woman created to stand behind a man.

My hand presses against the cold metal on my thigh, my mouth quirking into a smile as my father only shakes his head at me. I pull my gun from the holster, feeling the heavy weight in my palm and letting out a sigh of relief when my pointer finger lingers on the trigger.

“What, Papá?” I ask with a wink, showing him my pride and joy. “You didn’t really think I’d come to this thing unarmed, did you? After all, you were the one who taught me never to leave the house defenceless.”

He goes to say something more, a flicker of a smile at the corner of his lips, but heavy footsteps slap across the tiles, interrupting us.

“Why does the new Mafia bride have a gun in her hand?” Leonardo ponders with a low chuckle, his eyes straying from my hand to my face. There’s an amused smirk on his lips when he tilts his head, watching me curiously while chaos ensues around us.

The women are frantic, hiding under tables, while the men convene around the dancefloor, talking in hushed whispers.

“Can you handle it, Princess?”

I step forwards, my gaze remaining locked on his as my arm raises and my smile widens. There isn’t a single tremor in my hand as I press the metal to the centre of his forehead, my finger relaxed on the trigger. “What do you think?”

“I think I’m in love,” he murmurs, his words meant for only me. His eyes darken when I push the barrel deeper into his skin. He cocks a brow as though to taunt me, which only eggs me on more.

I won’t pull the trigger, not on him.

Not today at least.

My father grumbles under his breath before reaching a hand out and slowly pushing my arm to the ground.

Rolling my eyes, I let the gun hang limp at my side, a mumbled curse falling from my lips.

“No killing, Pippa. Especially not your new family,” he demands, his eyes moving between Leonardo and me. When he turns to face the commotion with a blank look, he grumbles under his breath, “She’s going to be the death of me soon.”

“Never. You’re too young to die, Papá,” I tell him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He shakes his head but smiles softly at me. My father may be a harsh man on the outside—powerful and unyielding—but when it comes to me—his baby—he’s nothing more than a giant teddy bear.

Although, a teddy bear that taught his youngest daughter how to handle all manners of weapons. “Now, does anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Russians.” Antonio’s voice comes from behind, his tone heavy with disdain while he watches the curtains on the tent. His hands are free of weapons, which is surprising, considering how heavily armed the rest of his men seem to be. He looks carefree, bored even, but those cold eyes of his tell a different story. They narrow on the tent, watching as a tall lean man steps through the curtains into the space.

His sleek hair is dark, buzzed at the sides and longer on the top, and a scar travels over his forehead, slashing through his right eyebrow. He wears a suit, similar to the men around me, but where theirs are black, his is a royal blue. His stroll is lazy as he makes his way towards us, stopping just shy of a metre in front of my new husband.

“Gentlemen.” He speaks in an American accent, but a hint of Russian comes through at the end of his greeting. His eyes travel over the men around me, his expression carefree as he takes them in. When he stops on me, a ghost of a smile flashes on his lips, but it’s gone within a second. “Pippa, I presume?”

“You presume correctly. Though I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” I tell him, the gun in my hand digging into my skin when I tighten my grip around the handle. While this man may not seem overly threatening with his easy stance, it would be foolish to lower my guard. “You seem to know who I am, but I haven’t the first clue who you might be.”

“Alexei.”

“A pleasure to meet you.”

“Yes,” he replies with a smile, offering me his hand. I raise mine, but before we can make contact, a hand grips my hip, pulling me backwards until my back is pressed against a hard chest. Fingers curl around my dress, burning my skin even with the material between us.

“You’re fraternising with the enemy, Princess.”

I pull in a stuttered breath when Leonardo’s mouth grazes my ear, his teeth lightly nipping at the skin before he pulls away. While Alexei may seem unthreatening to me, the man behind me is not.

He may just be the biggest threat I’ll ever face in my life.

“Your enemy, not mine,” I retort, slipping out of his hold and moving to stand beside him. My father and Antonio are too busy watching Alexei to have noticed the small interaction, and that’s something I can only be grateful for.

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