But I’m not done with him yet.
I pull his head back again, jerking it toward me, and shove the blade to his throat. “Doctor, did you stop when she said no?”
He opens his mouth but can’t speak.
“Did you corner her like I did you in here?” I sink the tip of the blade into his neck, drawing blood. “It’s not so fucking fun, is it?”
He somehow manages to get a, “Please,” out. His body trembles, on the verge of shutting down.
“You touched what’s mine.” I slice the blade clean across his throat.
Blood sprays across my hand and along the shower floor.
His body twitches as he bleeds out. Blood gushes from his throat, and I relish his suffering. I watch the life drain from his eyes with pleasure and not an ounce of guilt. His mouth is slack, and water still beats down on his body.
When he’s good and dead, I slowly rise and rinse his blood from my hands. I step out of the shower and text Marco—one of our soldiers—to come clean up the mess.
I leave the room to find the safe and key in the combination.
It unlocks, and I grin, collecting the ten grand in cash, a Rolex, and a gold bracelet from inside.
I might not have wanted this wife, but that doesn’t mean I won’t protect her.
That I won’t kill for her.
I leave, ready to visit my new idiot brother-in-law, but Julian calls.
“Leo’s dumbass got stabbed,” he tells me. “We need a doctor.”
I might not have a doctor, but I have a nurse.
11
Most brides knowtheir husbands before they marry them.
Hell, most brides aren’tforcedinto sayingI do.
But now that we’ve tied the knot, I want to know more about Emilio.
About his home. His history.
Oh, and the easiest way to murder him without him killing me first.
Every time I think of Aleksy’s murder plot, I want to jump out the window.
When Maggie returned from the store, I tried picking her brain. All I got from her is that she loves Emilio, she’s known him since he was three, and she was also in the room when Emilio’s mother, Evalina, gave birth to his sister. Maggie also said she once lived here in a private wing but moved out after Emilio’s sister’s and mother’s deaths.
When I asked her if she planned to move back into that wing, she shook her head in sadness and said, “This will never be my home again.”
Maggie offered to make dinner before she left, but I told her I was fine. She waved goodbye and said she’d be back in the morning.
Now it’s just me, all alone in this creepy home.
I grab another bottle of water, walk upstairs, and sit on my new bed. Dragging out my MacBook, I decide to research Emilio’s family myself.
Mr. Google always has the answers I’m looking for.
The search produces article after article, most of them about the car accident that took his mom’s and sister’s lives. According to sources, his mom drove straight into Lake George like she had a death wish.
