Page 27 of The Bond

I perked up at that. Already, I was thinking of me and Enzo walking hand in hand on a sandy beach. Or sipping rum and Cokes at a beach bar. Maybe even going skinny dipping in the sea.

My insides fluttered at the thought of all the romantic possibilities. “Is it California?”

He snorted. “We are getting the hell out of the States.”

“Mexico?”

“Close enough,” he said. “How does Spain and Portugal sound?”

I gasped. “Are you serious? I’ve always wanted to go.”

“We’re going to do the whole Iberian peninsula,” he said. “Eat the best food. Drink the best wine. I got the idea from the sangria you were drinking at the engagement dinner when our families got together for the first time.”

I turned around to face him, my heart going all soft and fluttery at those words. “You remembered that I was drinking sangria?”

“Well, I ordered it for you,” he said smiling.

“I know,” I said, blinking back happy tears. “But still. I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“We were trying to figure out where to go for a honeymoon during the engagement dinner, so I when I got the sangria for you, I made a mental note—”

“I love you so much,” I interrupted, too overcome to stay quiet.

“I will never get tired of hearing those words,” he said to me. “I love you, Valentina. My Valentina.”

My entire body went warm, my heart suddenly lighter and freer with the knowledge that he loved me too. This was more than I could have ever dreamed of.

Enzo looked down at the pile of presents I had pushed aside. “More wedding gifts?”

I nodded. “They just keep coming in. Some get delivered to our headquarters and you’ve seen the rest arrive here these past couple of weeks. Too bad we haven’t had a chance to open many of them.”

“Let’s open some of these ones,” he said, coming over, his muscular frame towering over me, making me feel safe, loved, and protected.

I reached for one of the bigger boxes. Opening a larger one first might make the pile smaller much faster.

Getting excited, I tore open the wrapping paper and lifted the lid. Inside was a sparkling crystal figurine. I took several moments to admire the way the light hit the crystal surface, making it glimmer from all angles.

“This is beautiful,” I gushed.

Soon, I was opening boxes and cards to reveal everything from expensive wine to sandwich makers to gift certificates to New York’s Michelin Star restaurants.

When I got to an unwrapped lavender-colored box, I slid off the glitter ribbon that was holding the lid in place. There was a card attached so I opened that. The message was written in big, bold marker, the handwriting messy. The opposite of the elegant box it came with. As I scanned the message, I gasped in horror, flinging the card away as if burned.

“What the hell?” Enzo picked up the card, bringing it closer to his face.

I didn’t need to see the card again to remember the chilling words scribbled in big, bold marker.

Your time is running out. You cannot run and you cannot hide. One by one I will pick you off until the name Romano is forever erased.

My mind was spinning. I clutched my chest as the fear made my heart clench. Panic clawed down my spine, cold and oily. Someone out there had gone through a lot of trouble to threaten us on our wedding day. First the shooting, now this terrifying message. Thankfully, no one had been killed during the shooting, but based on updates at the reception, there were injuries. Guilt flooded me. I’d spent so much time thinking about my safety and Enzo’s safety, but I had lost sight of the fact that our guests might be in a dangerous situation from being around us. I couldn’t help feeling like I had failed my extended family and our friends. There had been a breakdown in security and I was going to have to accept the blame, even if my father had volunteered to handle all the communication related to the shooting. Papa hadn’t wanted us to be inundated with calls about a shooting as newlyweds.

“This sounds like the text message you got the day of the bank bombing,” I said, my thoughts coming back to the present moment.

“Son of a bitch,” Enzo muttered, tossing the card back onto the surface of my vanity. “That shooting wasn’t enough for him? He has to terrorize you in your own home now? I’m going to kill him.”

His expression was hardening, the anger evident on his face. Whoever did this better pray that Enzo never caught them, because from the look on his face alone, I was certain that my husband wouldn’t hesitate to tear the culprit apart with his bare hands.

“Enzo, there’s no way this is my father’s doing. He wouldn’t threaten me with an anonymous note,” I said. While my father had the power to punish me for insubordination, he wouldn’t slink in the shadows to do it. He’d announce the punishment to my face so that I would have the chance to defend myself. That was how we handled intra-family problems.