Page 11 of Till Death Do Us Part

“Do you think you could take me out before my men kill you? You’d be dead long before your bullet ever hit me.” He keeps his voice flat, though there’s a hint of doubt lingering in the depths of his eyes. That’s the thing with men, they always presume to have the upper hand. While he’s right I’d be dead the moment I pull the trigger, he’s wrong in thinking I wouldn’t take him out with me.

“Shall we find out?” I raise a brow, my finger twitching on the trigger. Killing doesn’t scare me, but I’d rather not get blood on my wedding dress. It may not be one I chose for myself, but it feels awfully shameful to ruin it.

“Let’s not,” Leonardo says, letting my wrist free and stepping behind me. He towers over my five-foot-two frame, his body dwarfing mine when he wraps an arm around my waist. “Gentlemen, we must be leaving now.”

Konstantin watches for a moment before nodding at Leonardo. “Perhaps Alexei is right about this one. I imagine we will be seeing you again soon, Pippa, but for now, I will say goodbye.”

I don’t get the chance to respond as Leonardo quickly hauls me towards the pathway that leads back to the hotel. He loosens his hold on my waist, his hand finding mine. He threads our fingers together, his thumb caressing the back of my hand. I fight the urge to shiver at the electricity thrumming through our joint skin.

“Do you have a death wish?” he asks when we reach the lobby. Bright lights assault my eyes, a stark difference from the darkness that envelopes the gardens. We do not stop; he just continues to drag me towards the lift that will take us to the penthouse suite.

I don’t answer his question, for the answer is not so simple.

Of course, I do nothavea death wish. But in this world, I doubt it makes any difference. Death is the endgame, some of us just reach it earlier than others. I will not bow down to men who want to bring me harm in the hopes that I will live longer.

What a boring life that would be.

The lift opens, though not in a hallway as I would have expected, but directly in the suite where I will stay for the night. It is a large open-plan design with a kitchen to the left and a lounge to the right. There are several doors, each housing a bedroom behind them.

I move towards the kitchen first, my eyes drawn to the kettle on the counter. Leonardo must sense my intentions, for he slides past me and grabs a mug from one of the many cream cabinets. “Go and sit down.”

Doing as he says, I grip the skirt of my dress out of the way, lifting myself onto one of the tall stools at the island. My elbows rest on the marble, and I drop my chin into my palms, watching him as he works. He moves around the kitchen easily, as though he knows the space well.

“Have you been staying here long?”

“I often do business in London,” he tells me, filling the mug with boiling water before turning to grab a teaspoon. “This is my home when I’m here.”

“I suppose I should thank you, then.” He watches me curiously, passing me the steaming tea. “For letting me stay in your home.”

“It would be very uncharitable for me to turn you away, would it not?”

“I suppose but thank you anyway.”

“Don’t thank me,” he retorts with a dry chuckle. “At least not until there is something worth thanking me for. Letting you stay in my home is the least I can do for the boss and the new wife.”

His words are a harsh reminder of what today is. Not that I have forgotten, but in the midst of the commotion, I haven’t let myself think of what comes next.

What comes this evening when the lights go down and my husband joins me in bed. I’m not naïve enough to believe consummating our marriage is not expected, though a large part of me hopes it won’t happen today.

I finish my tea quietly while Leonardo slips away to check out the suite. He moves gracefully around the room, his eyes running over every detail to ensure it is safe and enemy free.

When I’m rinsing the mug, he offers to show me to my bedroom for the evening before bidding me good night and leaving to his own.

I barely glance at the bed, only long enough to grab the holdall that has been delivered from the suite I stayed in last night.

Grabbing a pair of plain black sweatpants and a white t-shirt, I move into the en suite and flip the shower on. Once the pins in my hair have been removed, I twist my arms behind my back, trying and failing to unhook the buttons that line the dress.

My cheeks puff before I blow out a slow breath, groaning in frustration. Leonardo is sitting on the couch when I find my way back into the suite, his legs propped on the coffee table as he watches cars racing on the television screen.

“You couldn’t help me, could you?” I blurt out before I can talk myself out of it. I doubt it’s appropriate to ask him to help me undress, but it’s not as if I have any other options at this moment, since we’re alone here. “I can’t get the buttons on my dress.”

He stands slowly, watching me as he makes his way across the room. His eyes are intent on my face, causing a flush to creep up my neck to my cheeks. I turn quickly, pulling in a deep breath. Though his answering chuckle tells me he noticed the reaction.

“How is it that you can hold your own against ten men, all who would not hesitate to take your life in a split second if it suited them, and yet you turn away from me?”

“Death is not scary.”

“Do you fear me, then?”

---