Page 85 of Thorns of Death

“I want to protect you.” The sincerity in his voice caught me by surprise.

“From what? Your wife?”

His jaw tightened. “Youare my wife. Or did you forget already?”

I had to stifle the scoff. I didn’t know what he was playing at, but there had to be a reason he was doing all this. If he wasn’t going to tell me, I’d find out on my own.

“Why did the priest call you Enzo Lucian Marchetti?”

His shoulders visibly tensed. “That’s my name. My full name.”

It was at that very moment everything clicked into place. I had read the name before. In the obituary.His brother’s obituary. From what I remembered, the article told the story of how he and Donatella had died on the same day.

My brows scrunched as I felt my mind turning over every possible explanation. If his wife was alive, maybe his brother was too. Or—

I rubbed my forehead, the beginnings of a headache settling in my temples. Today was just too much. Starting with the fake prisoner situation with Tatiana to this sham of a union. Yes, I’d gotten laid, and it was… not terrible. Not terrible at all. Somehow, though, the good didn’t outweigh the bad.

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice weak.

“Your husband.”

Wrapping my arms around myself, I scooted away. I’d married a stranger. Suspicion that I realized now had always been there started to creep up my spine. This man might not be Enrico Marchetti at all.

It was almost three in the afternoon when the car came to a stop in front of the now familiar mansion in the middle of Paris. It felt fitting that we’d end up where it all started.

I held my husband’s gaze as I heard the driver’s door open and close before our own door opened shortly thereafter.

With agility, he slid out of the car and extended his hand. “Shall we,mia moglie?”

Hesitantly, I put my hand into his outstretched palm and he helped me out of the car. Once I stood next to him, my hand enclosed in his warm one, I felt ice-cold fear mix with dread, both emotions slithering through my veins.

If my suspicions were confirmed and this man was who I believed him to be, my plans of getting out of this marriage on a technicality were not looking promising.

“Have you heard any news about my sister-in-law?” I asked, deciding to focus on something easier than the Marchetti mystery.

“No.” Although it felt like days since Tatiana’s kidnapping, it had only happened this morning. “Don’t worry. You and your brother are safe.”

“And Tatiana?”

He let out a sardonic breath. “Trust me, your brother won’t let anything happen to his wife.”

He was right. Illias was a force to be reckoned with; he’d move heaven and hell to keep her safe.

My stomach hollowed with nerves as we made our way inside his home. I guess it was my home now too. Enrico’s—Enzo’s—hand found its place on my lower back as he led me inside the white marble walkway.

He opened the door and motioned for me to enter. My steps were hesitant as I made my way back inside the home Tatiana and I entered only this morning with a plan to expose all the secrets. In hindsight, I could admit it was ridiculous.

“We’ll have an early dinner,” Enrico remarked.

“When are we going to talk?” I demanded to know.

“Later.” Warning rang in his voice, and I had enough common sense not to push him. Not now. But I fully intended to. Later.

He moved into a room I hadn’t been in before. A lounge, by the looks of it. He stopped in front of a liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink, downing it in one go. I stood in the middle of the room, unsure what to do. This was new territory for me.

I licked my lips, suddenly feeling thirsty.

“Can I have some of that, or is the liquor only reserved for you?” I was his wife, after all. The least he could do was show some gentlemanly qualities. “It’s been a rough day for me too.”