Page 93 of Bleed with Me

“Noooo, not crazy.” I shook my head resolutely. “Committed.”

“Diagnosis: attachment issues,” he provided stoically, taking a photo of me sleeping in my office on the couch off the board.

“What?” I glanced at the picture, assuming it was taken three days ago. I only wore white on Sundays.

“Based on the angle, it looks like you have a camera inside your office.”

A broad smile almost split my face in half. Malin rolled his eyes, slammed my sleeping photo against my chest, and left the closet, mumbling something about boundaries as if he were someone to lecture about those. He didn’t know what that word meant.

Turning to the board, I checked the photos, scribbled notes with dates, and drew emojis. The entire wall was covered with me. Photographs, printed screenshots, blurry zoomed-in shots taken from a distance, Instagram pictures, candid moments I didn’t even remember happening. Some were old enough that my tattoos were still incomplete, making me wonder where she got those. Others were recent. Very recent.

A low thrill slid down my spine as I stared at the collection of pictures taken while I slept peacefully in my own bed, completely unaware that someone stood over me with a camera. In one of them, her fingers brushed my hair. In another, she kissed my cheek and took a selfie of us.

The obsession covering the wall should’ve terrified me. Any sane man would’ve run. Instead, excitement bloomed in my chest.

Nina Valentino had turned me into her only fixation, and the most fucked-up part was that I freaking loved it.

“We have to go,” Malin interrupted me, swiftly lifting the hangers off the floor. His tone suggested there was no time to fool around. I helped him return the dresses to their place and cover the evidence of my wife’s extracurricular activities.

By the time I sat in the car and clutched the papers I’d stolen from her, I’d already made a game plan and couldn’t wait to execute it. She deserved to be punished for all the trouble she caused, and I had something amazing prepared.

-42-

Nina

The punching bag swung violently under the force of my fists, chains rattling with every hit. Sweat glued the black sports bra to my skin, strands of damp hair sticking to my temples as I drove another punch straight into the worn leather. My knuckles burned pleasantly beneath the wraps, shoulders tight, lungs working hard, but none of it was enough to bleed the frustration out of my system. Flowers. Cake tastings. Dress fittings. Guest lists. The whole fucking circus played in my head like torture specifically designed for me.

My phone vibrated again somewhere on the floor beside the bench. I ignored it, pivoted sharply, and landed another brutal hit that made the bag creak in protest. A second later, the vibration stopped only to start again immediately. Sonny’s name flashed across the screen for the sixth time in less than twenty minutes. I grabbed the phone, ready to reject the call, but a text notification appeared before I could.

Sonny: Pick it up, Nina. Don’t make me find you.

A breathless, mean laugh escaped me.

“Try it, asshole,” I muttered, tossing the cell across the gym. It slammed against the rubber floor and slid under the weight rack.

I exhaled sharply and turned to the bench press instead. The barbell felt cold beneath my palms as I loaded more weight onto it than any sane person should. The metal clanked loudly before I lay back and lifted the bar off the rack.

One rep. Two. Three.

The strain spread through my arms and chest, grounding me better than therapy ever could.

“Nina,” Lucas’s voice echoed through the gym, soaked in sarcasm, “at this point, I’m genuinely starting to wonder if you plan to survive the wedding or personally carry the groom’s coffin afterward.”

“I’m not sure myself.” I smirked, sitting up. “You’re up early.”

The clock on the wall showed 11 am, but he rarely got up before noon.

“I stayed up late,” he grumbled, stretching out onto the bench beside me. “I need cash, so I followed a cheating wife around.” He rubbed his face tiredly. “Most boring night of my life. I spent six hours watching two rich idiots snort coke and argue about organic wine.”

“Poor boy.” I shook my head, my mockingly sympathetic tone making him roll his eyes. “You shouldn’t have maxed out all your credit cards.”

“Happens when a slot machine is hungry.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were no big deal, but I was worried about him. His gambling habits were getting out of hand since the last painful breakup with a cheating fucker who broke his sweet, gentle heart.

“Do you owe someone?” I asked, wiping sweat from my forehead.

“I put it on Matteo’s tab.” With a grin and a playful wink, he tried to play it cool. Still, his oldest brother owed Zyon and others too much for my liking. The last thing I needed was my best friend drowning in someone else’s debts because he added to them.

“How much, Lucas?” I ran a towel over my face, already decided to pay whoever he owed.