Page 43

He leans against the doorjamb, watching me from across the room. The light in the hall silhouettes him. This new posedraws my attention right to his chest. He must’ve started to undress on his way over because his jacket is gone. His dress shirt is unbuttoned, the flaps open, giving me sneak peeks of a delectable-looking chest.

His shoes are gone. So are his socks. He’s in his bare feet as he crosses his legs at the ankle.

My mouth is suddenly way too dry.

My husband smirks at me. “See something you like, princess?”

Shit. He caught me staring.

I shrug anyway. “Just looking for the best place to stick the knife.”

Adrian’s smirk deepens. The prick is amused that I haven’t given up on cashing in on that ’til death do we part’ clause that I pointed out the night after we married. “You’d have to get close to me to do that first.”

“I think I can stomach it.”

He caresses his upper belly, highlighting his notable abs. “There was a time you couldn’t keep your hands off of me.”

“There was a time when I thought you were my Prince Charming,” I shoot back. “Now I know better.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

I snort. “Yeah. I’m married to the villain of this tale.”

He chuckles darkly. “You’re not wrong. If you had any idea how far I’d go to keep you, Loni… stab me if it makes you feel better. Just know that I’ll make you lap up the blood.” His eyes spark with undeniable lust. “I told you. I’ll get inside of my bride again any way I can.”

Except force me, and the longer I pretend that we’re this marriage won’t—can’t—last, the more I wonder why he doesn’t just use the Order’s rules in his favor to at least use the body I Offered to him by agreeing to become his wife. He could makeme do that. He could make me doanything—and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop him.

But this isn’t between us and the Order. This is between Adrian and me, and he won’t be satisfied until I’ve surrendered to him completely.

That’s not today. Even if he wants to undress in front of me, showing off that delectable body of his… not today, Adrian.

He knows, too. So while he probably considers my gawking a tiny victory in this battle between us, he lowers his hands, reaching for his belt buckle as though simply getting ready for bed while having a chat with his wife.

In fact, his tone goes from sinfully wicked and promising to casually conversational as he says, “Do you know who Damien Libellula is?”

TWELVE

ONE WAY

LONI

Damien who?

“No,” I answer. “Am I supposed to?”

“Considering you were last in Bridgewater and that’s this little sweet town instead of a big, grimy city, probably not.”

Hang on?—

“How did you know?—”

“So, Damien Libellula… he’s this head of a mafia family in Springfield. It’s a couple of hours away from Harmony Heights. A real criminal hotspot.”

“So nothing like here, huh?” I say wryly, more than a little peeved that he ignored my question.

“Sure. But anyway, I have some… clients who are based in that city. I’ve heard about some of the stuff that goes down there. And this guy, Damien? He got married a year or two ago. It was a shock to his boys because they didn’t even know he was dating anyone, but the kicker is that he wasn’t. This gorgeous woman was stalking him, trying to kill him for some reason or another… he’s a mob leader, remember, so that happens… and she endedup stabbing him in the side with his own knife. He didn’t die, though, and he didn’t retaliate.”

“He didn’t?” I would’ve.