Page 98 of Vicious Kingdom

The letter, which had been slid under my door not five minutes after I returned to the apartment lay accusingly on the sofa. The single line of writing was an ominous threat.

You made a mistake today, but don’t worry, I’ll fix it.

What if, in his deranged state, the Tormentor hurt Leo? I should have told him, if only to warn him of what the delusional motherfucker was capable of. I would! The moment I saw him, I would tell Leo everything so he knew what he was up against. If he went after the Tormentor, he needed to know what such a public hit might cost him.

Better to have it end with the possibility of exposure than to have this threat looming over us.

But that would mean admitting how weak I was. Leo would see me differently. And what if…what if he didn’t believe me? That was why I never spoke about this torture before. The Tormentor seemed to all the world a jolly soul. Society liked him. They would never believe the accusations.

And Leo didn’t trust me. Not completely. The rush of the wedding, the quickness with which we went from rivals dancing around one another tolivingunder the same roof. No…I didn’t trust Leo to take on this as well. I felt nothing but disgust for freezing under the attack. I didn’t need anyone, not even Leo, to know what was really going on. It would be better to keep my secrets.

With a guttural exhale, I crumpled the note.

Tonight could have had a million explanations. Leo was first and foremost a businessman. There could have been a crisis that drew him away. Alternatively, something could have happenedto their secret organization to cause his abrupt disappearance. That was the far more likely explanation, since Penelope hadn’t responded.

I hated not knowing. Of fearing the worst. Being an author, my creative side was capable of imagining countless horrible situations.

The lock clicked. The sound was an electric shock to my heart, sending the damn organ into a rapid patter.

I shot from the couch, blankets tangled on my ankles as I stumbled to the door.

Leo stepped inside, gave me a dark glare, and then closed the door.

“You’re safe,” I gasped. There was barely enough air to form the words.

“You should be asleep,” he muttered.

My mouth fell open. “How can you say that?” I stammered. “I thought you were dead!”

His laughter was cruel. “Really, Anna? You think so little of me that a business call has you in a panic?”

That hurt.

My chest constricted in pain. Moisture prickled in my eyes. “Leo, I care.” It was all I managed to say.

“Thanks,” he clipped out. “Now go to bed. You’ve had a long day.”

The muscles in my body froze. My legs couldn’t move. Didn’t he understand? He left! And now he was back with no explanation in sight, only the black storm cloud of anger hovering about him to tell me something truly awful had happened.

Leo sighed. “Fine. If you won’t, I will.”

He stalked past me and took the stairs. His shoes slapped against the modern metal design as he marched to the landing. The bedroom door clapped shut with a deafening finality.

Eventually, I managed to drag myself back to the sofa. I gathered my phone and the blankets but paused when the ball of white rolled onto the floor. It lay there, taunting me.

With a stifled yowl, I picked it up, marched to the trash, and buried it under the garbage.

“Screw you,” I hissed.

But my tears weren’t caused by the torment for once. No…I was a bride, alone and shut out on her wedding night.

There was nothing magical about crawling into the guest bed. I burrowed under the sheets. After an hour of tossing and turning, sleep eluded me.

The digital clock on the nightstand flashed 3:18 A.M. when I finally admitted defeat. Sleep wasn't coming, and neither were answers. With each passing minute, my mind conjured increasingly horrific scenarios to explain Leo's behavior.

I slipped from beneath the cold sheets, my bare feet silent against the hardwood floor. The hallway stretched before me like a dark tunnel, Leo’s bedroom door a fortress at the end. My wedding ring caught what little moonlight filtered through the windows as I twisted it nervously around my finger.

“This is ridiculous,” I whispered to myself. “He’s my husband.”