Page 140 of When We Were Us

He set the package on the counter, his eyes meeting mine. "Only if you want them to."

A slow smile spread across my face. "I don't," I purred, sauntering closer to him. "I'd prefer to scream and moan without prying ears."

Oliver's breath hitched audibly. He cupped himself through his swim trunks, exhaling sharply. "You're going to have to stop that type of talk, or you won't eat tonight."

I raised an eyebrow, challenge gleaming in my eyes. "Promises, promises."

In one fluid motion, Oliver rounded the counter. His gaze darkened as he approached, deliberately removing his glasses and folding them with exaggerated care. "Are you challenging me?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

I watched, transfixed, as he set the glasses on the counter with a soft click. "Is that supposed to intimidate me?"

"Does it?" he countered, now mere inches away.

I tilted my chin defiantly. "Not in the least. I know you too well, Mr. Fox."

Without warning, Oliver's arms encircled me. His lips crashed against mine in a searing kiss, teeth grazing my bottom lip. A shiver of desire raced down my spine.

"I need to eat before you start seducing me," I gasped when we finally broke apart.

Oliver's hands roamed lower, fingers teasing the edge of my bikini bottoms. "I can always eat you," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear.

"And what will I eat?" I managed to ask, my voice breathy.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "That is a dilemma."

I hugged him tightly, relishing the feel of his muscular back beneath my wandering hands. In that moment, surrounded by his warmth and scent, a wave of emotion washed over me. I loved my husband dearly, more than I could ever express. So much had changed in the past few weeks, reminding me never to give up hope.

"Oliver?" I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep.

Rolling over, I reached out, only to find his side of the bed empty and cold. Dawn's pale fingers were just beginning to creep through the windows, but after last night's passionate activities, I wasn't ready to face the day. With a contented sigh, I burrowed deeper into the plush sheets, allowing sleep to reclaim me.

The next time I woke, it wasn't to the gentle caress of sunlight, but to a sharp crack that echoed through the air like a firecracker. My eyes flew open, heart racing as Oliver's voice, taut with tension, carried from outside.

Fear gnawed at my insides as I threw off the covers. Hands trembling, I fumbled with my silk robe, cinching it tightly around my waist before rushing to the terrace. The scene below made my blood run cold.

It was a horrifying echo of our ill-fated honeymoon. Oliver knelt on the manicured lawn, dressed only in white swim trunks that were rapidly staining crimson. Blood flowed freely from a wound in his shoulder, pooling on the grass beneath him. Nearby, Tino lay motionless, a dark red stain blossoming across his shirt.

"Mrs. Fox," an urgent whisper came from behind me. I whirled to see Brenda, her face ashen, gesturing frantically for me to move away from the door. But I couldn't tear my eyes away from the nightmarish tableau unfolding below.

Antonio Caruso himself stood over my husband; his gun trained on Oliver's head. The sight of him sent ice through my veins.

"Fucking Fox," Antonio snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "You thought you were safe. Where is she?"

Oliver's response was defiant, despite the pain etched on his face. "Go fuck yourself," he choked out.

Antonio's eyes flashed with murderous rage. "Because of her, Raphael is dead. She has to pay, and I'm not afraid to do it with your life, then hers."

A low moan from Tino momentarily distracted Antonio. As he glanced towards the wounded man, everything happened in a blur of motion. A shot rang out, and Antonio staggered, clutching his stomach where Vlad's bullet had found its mark. In that split second, Oliver lunged forward with a primal roar, tackling Antonio into the pool.

The water muffled their struggle but couldn't disguise the sickening sound of another gunshot. A scream tore from my throat as crimson bloomed in the crystal-blue water.

Brenda's strong arms yanked me back inside, shielding me as sobs wracked my body. My legs gave out, and I crumpled to the floor, my mind reeling with the possibility that I might have just witnessed my husband's last moments.

Brenda covered my body as tears streamed down my face. The peaceful morning had shattered into a waking nightmare, and all I could do was pray that Oliver would emerge from those blood-stained waters alive.

Chapter 32

1 Year Later

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