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Since when are sexy psychopaths my type?
A strand of hair has escaped its updo, and he reaches out and winds it around his finger, rubbing his thumb over it. I resist a shiver. I am not wondering what his fingers would feel like on my naked skin. I am not.
“This is some Richard the Third-level fetish. Seducing a bride after you kill her groom?”
“You were having second thoughts. That is what you told me, no?” The more I talk to him, the more I detect an Eastern European accent. Not Ukrainian, but something close.
“That doesn’t mean I wanted him dead.”
“And yet you stood by and did nothing. No crying. No hysterics. Just rearranging your schedule in your head.” Victor’s glacier-blue eyes fasten on mine, intent on prising me apart.
“You make me sound so cold.” And even though my exact reputation in La Famiglia is as a frigid mafia princess known for her sharp-tongued disdain, it hurts to be called callous.
“No, beautiful.” He plucks at the long satin sleeve of my dress with his long fingers, and I can’t hold my shiver back. “You’re the opposite of cold.”
My blush blooms hotter. Dammit. I can hide my thoughts but not my libido, which, after years of lying dormant, has come roaring to life. It’s been a while since I’ve had a one-night stand. I seduced David by gazing adoringly up at him through my lashes and pretending to laugh at his bad jokes. I got him to the altar by promising to hand over my virginity (Ha!) once I was legally his.
In short, my sex life has had quite a dry spell, and now my body is ready to throw itself at this man, the blood on his hands be damned.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“I promise no harm will come to you this night.”
I don’t know why, but I believe him. But the lawyer in me has to close all loopholes. “And in the morning?”
He doesn’t answer right away, only toys with my hair.
“Victor?” I wait, rubbing the sword charm of my necklace between a thumb and forefinger.
“We shall see.”
This is the reason I believe him. He’s careful about what he promises. If he’s telling the truth, I have a twelve-hour window to escape.
No problem. There’s a foolproof way to stay alive and send my captor to sleep.
I’m going to seduce him.
He steps closer, and the force of his presence, his striking good looks and intensity, makes me wobble.
I cast about for something to distract him. Something other than me. I’m his entertainment for the night, but I need a minute to gird my loins and get ready to perform.
“I need to use the restroom,” I say, smoothing a hand over my necklace.
He steps back and waves a hand toward a room beyond the kitchen. He’s got that slight smile back, the one that says he knows I’m stalling for time. That’s fine. I’d rather him think I’m reluctant than guess what I’m really about.
The bathroom mirror shows a surprisingly vibrant-looking bride. There’s pink in my cheeks, thanks to Victor’s exploratory touches. My arousal will work to my benefit.
I just won’t examine my reaction to him too closely.
There’s blood on my dress. I forgot about that. Victor swung out of the way on the altar, out of the spray, but I was close enough to get spattered. The rust-colored stains already look old.
I do my business and use the sounds of the flushing toilet and running water to cover the real reason I needed a private moment. Bending over, I haul up my dress and unstrap the handgun holster hidden on my right thigh.
Are you always so well-armed?
Always.
I palm the butt of the compact weapon and let its cool weight give me strength. I strapped this gun to my leg, hoping Stephanos would come to the wedding and I could blow him away at the reception. The Sig Sauer P365 is my baby, the smallest gun I own. I’m lucky I wasn’t strip-searched in the car, but my reprieve won’t last long. Judging by the way Victor was looking at me, he’s taking me to bed, and soon.
