Page 37 of Vicious Kingdom (Dynasty of Queens #3)
H uddling on the couch, shaking and shivering despite the pile of blankets, was not how any bride wanted to spend her wedding night. In the chaotic whirlwind of the morning, the blissful ceremony was a surprise. The reception started serenely enough.
And then Leo left.
A shudder wracked my frame. Whoever called him must have had devastating news. Penelope had been radio silent, and I couldn’t figure out what the hell happened. But whatever it was, it created a black storm cloud on his face.
The guests were understanding enough. They reduced their inner comments to whispers, which of course, I heard.
Since Leo portrayed himself as such a reclusive businessman, it didn’t surprise people that he was called away.
Their wagging tongues were directed at me.
I heard their criticism of the wedding. The simplicity was called quaint. My mother wasn’t the only snob.
Well, if they expected to be wined and dined in high fashion, that was their fault.
It was my wedding, dammit. The only one I planned to have.
I glanced at my phone for the thousandth time.
Me: Please, Pen, just tell me that everyone is alive.
I sent that text an hour ago.
My fingers trembled so badly that the device fell onto the sofa cushion. I scrubbed my fingers into my hair.
The letter, which had been slid under my door not five minutes after I returned to the apartment lay accusingly on the sofa. The single line of writing was an ominous threat.
You made a mistake today, but don’t worry, I’ll fix it.
What if, in his deranged state, the Tormentor hurt Leo?
I should have told him, if only to warn him of what the delusional motherfucker was capable of.
I would! The moment I saw him, I would tell Leo everything so he knew what he was up against. If he went after the Tormentor, he needed to know what such a public hit might cost him.
Better to have it end with the possibility of exposure than to have this threat looming over us.
But that would mean admitting how weak I was. Leo would see me differently. And what if…what if he didn’t believe me? That was why I never spoke about this torture before. The Tormentor seemed to all the world a jolly soul. Society liked him. They would never believe the accusations.
And Leo didn’t trust me. Not completely.
The rush of the wedding, the quickness with which we went from rivals dancing around one another to living under the same roof.
No…I didn’t trust Leo to take on this as well.
I felt nothing but disgust for freezing under the attack.
I didn’t need anyone, not even Leo, to know what was really going on. It would be better to keep my secrets.
With a guttural exhale, I crumpled the note.
Tonight could have had a million explanations.
Leo was first and foremost a businessman.
There could have been a crisis that drew him away.
Alternatively, something could have happened to their secret organization to cause his abrupt disappearance.
That was the far more likely explanation, since Penelope hadn’t responded.
I hated not knowing. Of fearing the worst. Being an author, my creative side was capable of imagining countless horrible situations.
The lock clicked. The sound was an electric shock to my heart, sending the damn organ into a rapid patter.
I shot from the couch, blankets tangled on my ankles as I stumbled to the door.
Leo stepped inside, gave me a dark glare, and then closed the door.
“You’re safe,” I gasped. There was barely enough air to form the words.
“You should be asleep,” he muttered.
My mouth fell open. “How can you say that?” I stammered. “I thought you were dead!”
His laughter was cruel. “Really, Anna? You think so little of me that a business call has you in a panic?”
That hurt.
My chest constricted in pain. Moisture prickled in my eyes. “Leo, I care.” It was all I managed to say.
“Thanks,” he clipped out. “Now go to bed. You’ve had a long day.”
The muscles in my body froze. My legs couldn’t move. Didn’t he understand? He left! And now he was back with no explanation in sight, only the black storm cloud of anger hovering about him to tell me something truly awful had happened.
Leo sighed. “Fine. If you won’t, I will.”
He stalked past me and took the stairs. His shoes slapped against the modern metal design as he marched to the landing. The bedroom door clapped shut with a deafening finality.
Eventually, I managed to drag myself back to the sofa. I gathered my phone and the blankets but paused when the ball of white rolled onto the floor. It lay there, taunting me.
With a stifled yowl, I picked it up, marched to the trash, and buried it under the garbage.
“Screw you,” I hissed.
But my tears weren’t caused by the torment for once. No…I was a bride, alone and shut out on her wedding night.
There was nothing magical about crawling into the guest bed. I burrowed under the sheets. After an hour of tossing and turning, sleep eluded me.
The digital clock on the nightstand flashed 3:18 A.M. when I finally admitted defeat. Sleep wasn't coming, and neither were answers. With each passing minute, my mind conjured increasingly horrific scenarios to explain Leo's behavior.
I slipped from beneath the cold sheets, my bare feet silent against the hardwood floor. The hallway stretched before me like a dark tunnel, Leo’s bedroom door a fortress at the end. My wedding ring caught what little moonlight filtered through the windows as I twisted it nervously around my finger.
“This is ridiculous,” I whispered to myself. “He’s my husband.”
The word felt foreign on my tongue. Husband. We’d been married less than twenty-four hours, and already everything was falling apart.
Did you really expect a ring to make a difference?
Hating myself for being a dreamer, I stood outside his door for a full minute, hand hovering over the knob.
Finally, I turned it slowly, wincing at the slight click.
The door swung open without a sound. Moonlight spilled through the half-drawn curtains, illuminating Leo’s form on the bed.
He was still wearing his dress shirt. His soft breathing told me he slumbered peacefully.
Creeping forward, I eased myself onto the mattress.
He didn’t wake.
Just a few minutes.
But as I lay there, where I convinced myself I belonged, a yawn tugged me into relaxation. Just a little longer, I commanded myself.
When I woke with a gasp, I knew I needed to sneak back to the other room.
How had I allowed myself to fall asleep here?
I should leave before he woke to find me.
I should spare both of us the confrontation and tiptoe back the way I came.
My heart raced at the thought of him waking, just as angry but at least relieved that I was gone.
Just as I decided to ease off the mattress and make my move, his soft breathing was an unexpected lullaby. I stifled a yawn. Just a few more minutes, I thought, mustering the courage to stay. I shut my eyes for the briefest of moments. But then I summoned the courage to leave.
As much as I want to get you out of my system, our lives are intertwined. One way or another, I was coming back. My place was here, at his side.