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Bianca shifted on the bed, calling my thoughts back from my fucked-up past. She didn’t know the complete story. She deserved to know, especially after Raffa’s deranged actions yesterday.

Spending the day with her reminded me of her truancy in high school and how I enjoyed corrupting her perfect life a little. This morning, I read while she slept. We watched TV together in her waking moments. She’d become clingy. Always wanting to keep a part of us connected. Holding my hand, touching myarm. She was so soft and warm and sexily cuddly. Her smell was intoxicating. The swell of her tits through the worn-out tee was driving me nuts. Whereas I didn’t feel any lust in the shower yesterday, today was different. The desire to bury myself in her lush heat was overwhelming.

She sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time and I asked for what seemed like the millionth time, “How are you feeling, baby?”

“Fine.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Theitwas my murderous actions yesterday. She hadn’t even mentioned Griselda again.

“Not yet.”

Around nine p.m. Bianca got up and went to the bathroom. I heard the shower start and waited patiently for her to come out, reining in the urge to barge in there. The water stopped after exactly eight minutes twenty-five seconds. The sink faucet turned on, then the blow-dryer. Another seven minutes and fifteen seconds went by before she came out of the bathroom. Her hair was up in a ponytail.

She’d thrown on a robe and, without another look my way, left the bedroom. I swallowed a curse and went after her.

“Bianca…” I mumbled softly.

She ignored me.

Fine. If she hadn’t been clingy earlier, I would be bald by now with the way I wanted to pull out my hair.

She descended the steps and I held back from sweeping her in my arms and carrying her back to the bedroom. The men had mopped the floor, leaving no traces of blood. If there were, it wasn’t immediately evident. The stench of death and bleach still hung in the air. Sloane hadn’t come by yet.

Bianca entered the kitchen and started taking eggs, bacon, sausages, and vegetables out of the fridge. She went to the pantry and grabbed onions.

She hadn’t eaten since this morning.

Bianca brought out the chopping board. Then she grabbed a big fucking knife from the wooden block.

I stiffened, remembering her words to Griselda. Did any of her introspection today trigger the psycho?

“Baby…” I walked toward her.

“Turn the oven to three twenty-five,” she said, not looking at me.

I scrambled to turn on the oven to her required setting.

The blade of the knife reflected in the lighting. It winked at me before she positioned an onion underneath and cut it in half with a decisive stroke. I was glad it wasn’t a cucumber.

I brought out my phone and tapped over to the surveillance app. I switched off the cameras in the kitchen, then texted Sticks.

FYI, I turned off the security cams in the kitchen.

Sticks

Boss?

Don’t turn it back on

I didn’t want footage of her in a robe, looking sexy as fuck. That’d plant ideas in my men’s heads, then I’d be forced to shoot them too. But also, in case she stabbed me, I didn’t want there to be any evidence.

As expected, Sticks wasn’t gonna be on board without further clarification, especially given the events of the past few days. I heard the front door open and close, but I intercepted him at the mouth of the kitchen.

“What?” I asked.

He looked past my shoulder, but I pushed him to the side where he couldn’t see Bianca, while I could still monitor her.

“She has a knife.” Sticks pointed out the obvious. Which was made more obvious when thechop-chop-chopsound of the knife furiously hitting the cutting board reached our ears.