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La mariée du monstre.

I am the monster's bride.



















Chapter Seven

ANOTHER WAREHOUSE,really?

Sylvain was rather cryptic when he told me after breakfast that we had somewhere to go.

And nowthis.

I stare through the tinted windows of my husband's bulletproof limo as we pull up to a massive structure of corrugated metal and concrete. Seriously, what is it with mob bosses and warehouses? Is there some secret handbook that says all criminal activities must take place in such big ugly death traps?

The car rolls to a stop, tires crunching on gravel. My husband exits first, his movements fluid and controlled like always. He turns, extending his hand to help me out.

Surely this isn't a trick?

I reach for him, my fingers just grazing his—when he steps back suddenly, leaving me to stumble forward, barely catching myself before I fall flat on my face.

Knew it.

I straighten up, brushing invisible dust from my dress, dignity intact if slightly bruised. Behind me, I hear his security team coughing, but when I glance at them over my shoulder...

Huh.

I feel like we've suddenly played a game ofRed Light, Green Lightwithout meaning to, and I'm that awful robot in pigtails trying to blast any of Sylvain's bodyguards I catch laughing.

Oh, whatever.

Sylvain glances at me with a raised eyebrow when I catch up to him. "Everything alright?"

"Oui."

But my husband, though...

"Are you alright?" I ask uncertainly.