AllFreeNovel
Share Us
How am I going to get close to Stephanos now? David was the closest tie I had. Except...
Stephanos sends his regards.
Stephanos ordered this hit. I’ve made a study of the top tier of his gang, and I don’t recognize this ice-eyed hitman. In a rustle of satin, I turn to face him.
Up close, his beauty is sharp and striking. He’s beautiful like a well-balanced knife is beautiful. In the way a Sig Sauer pistol or a F-22 Raptor is beautiful. Stunning and deadly.
The killer still hasn’t looked at me. I might as well be an object on the altar—a candelabra or a tablecloth—for all the attention he’s paid me. If this was a hit on my life, if I was the actual target, he would’ve made his move by now.
Right?
That smug curve to his lips tells me he likes killing and the thrill of the hunt. Everything in me screams to run or fight.
Adrenaline floods my veins. My fingers flex, aching to reach for a weapon. But I hold the rest of me still, waiting to make my choice. Each second, I gather more information and expand my choices.
The hitman finally looks at me, and his blue eyes snag on my lips. I painted them red, a color bright enough to be seen under the stupid veil. His gaze trolls up and down my body, taking in my stained gown and the thick shroud over my features. There’s no flicker of recognition on his face.
If the hitman doesn’t know me, does he just see a bride standing over her love, too shocked to scream? I probably should run or cry. I’ve spent too much time calculating my next moves. I need to play my part.
But those arctic eyes freeze me. His head cocks to the side, and for a moment, I think he’ll speak.
But he doesn’t. What he does is kneel to check the dead man’s eyes for proof of life. With cruel casualness, he wipes his blade clean on David’s tuxedo pant leg. Then he rises, gives me a smile, and strolls back the way he came.
The pool of David’s blood has reached my foot. I back away, cataloging my emotions. Horror. Annoyance. A resigned sort of calm.
I toss the bouquet of peonies into the closest pew, pick up my dress and stride away. Toward the front of the church, not the back. I don’t want to be caught in the tangle of David’s friends and his lone relative, none of whom had the wherewithal to stand strong.
David was my way to get Stephanos. I had hoped Stephanos would show up at the wedding so I could execute him during the reception. Barring that, I intended to spend my ‘honeymoon’ setting a trap and springing it.
I’ll need more than luck to get so close again. If my plan is going to work, I’ll need a new way in. Soon, immediately, before my cousin Royal tracks me down. He’s the head of the Regis Famiglia now and has never approved of my quest for vengeance.
Stephanos sends his regards. Ironically, my best lead is the blond hitman. I shiver as I think of him. Those piercing eyes, that powerful frame. So beautiful and so cold.
I rub my chest and automatically grasp the delicate necklace at my throat, a tiny sword that rests between my breasts. I kiss the small pommel for good luck and tuck it back into place.
I stride out of the church, ready to call a cab and head to a safe house for a change of clothes and a glass of whiskey while I rework my plan. Marrying David was supposed to be the beginning of the end. Now, I’m back where I started. And I look like a damn runaway bride. A runaway bride covered in blood spatter.
Fuck my life.
I don’t get more than a few steps out the door before someone seizes me from behind, immobilizing me in strong arms. I see a glint of metal, and in a smooth, practiced move, my attacker raises a knife past my blood-speckled bodice to rest at my throat.
“Not so fast, beautiful,” the hitman rasps in my ear. “You’re coming with me.”
CHAPTER 2
victor
The bride is a warm bundle in my arms, if not exactly willing. Her feet drag, but she doesn’t put up a fight as I bundle her into the backseat of the waiting car. This job came with a driver, but there’s a divider between him and the backseat. I’ll have plenty of privacy to play with my new toy.
She settles into the car seat beside me, filling the space with mounds and mounds of white satin. A bride on her wedding day, representing love and innocence and purity and all the things I’ve never experienced. All the things the world withholds from a soulless man like me.
But now I have her in my clutches. My blood heats, and I have to force myself to slow down, remain cool and in control. She is a prize like no other. A triumph I wish to savor as long as possible.
The car pulls away from the curb, and the bride’s back hits the seat. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, making the delicate silver chain around her neck ripple. The necklace caught my eye in the church, the charm unusual—a tiny weapon. Too long to be a regular dagger, too short to be a sword. An old-fashioned poniard.
I extend a finger and brush the toothpick-sharp tip of the blade and, with it, her skin. Her chest prickles with goosebumps, and my prize’s breath hisses behind the veil.
She’s not unaffected by me. Her slight reaction is a blood-bright flag unfurling before a bull. Adrenaline pounds through me, and my cock stirs. My palms itch to unwrap my gift.
