I don't wait for him to answer. As my hand lands on the doorknob, his words stop me. “Heard La Maison du Mal is dealing with inner issues…”
I don't react. That's what they want. They want to see the fractures in a kingdom that has been impenetrable for generations. People don't think of the French when they picture crime families. They picture the Bratva, the 'Ndrangheta. The ones who make noise.
Exactly how we want it.
“The inner issues have been dealt with,” I say over my shoulder, just enough for him to see my smirk. “That's why you're dealing with me now.”
Everything was about to change.
But first, it had to start with her.
Chapter 2
Ivy
Awedding ends with the groom carrying his bride over the threshold to start their happily ever after. Hours spent reciting vows to the man of your dreams, a promise of love through thick and thin.
Except that shit doesn't happen in my life.
So here I am, staring at my reflection and seriously considering downing another three Xanax. Marriage. This is thepart most people look forward to, right? Fuck the million dollars spent watching families fight over who loves whom more.
Mine wouldn't bother.
I swallow the pill, hissing at the powdery residue coating my throat. My fingers squeeze the bathroom counter, but not even the cool ceramic grounds me. Smooth. Cold. Hard.Fragile.
Most would be high on love right now, but love? Love wasn’t something I wanted or craved.
Tossing the silk dress into the hamper, I crank the shower handle until steam fills the small room and slip beneath the rain of water.
Breathe in. Out.
After scrubbing my body until it stings, I swipe away the condensation from the mirror. For a moment, I don’t see the woman. The one who has long, dark hair that curls at the ends and skin that tans easily in the sun. The woman whose eyes hold every shade of green and the ghosts of a child who had no one to trust.
I see the girl who fought to get here. Maybe that’s why I don’t believe in love. Because every person who was supposed to love me ended up disappointing me in some way.
Moving my hair over my shoulder, the diamond on my finger catches the overhead light. Most would call it beautiful. It’s more like overcompensation. A diamond this sparkly and big is nothing more than a giant red flag.
I open the door onto a shadow that’s blocking the light from the hallway. He seems bigger. Scarier. It’s an illusion, just like love. Just like this ring. He’s not big, or scary. It’s just a small doorway.
My toes curl into the carpet, a smile slipping onto my face. So this is it. The part where the consummation of our marriage plays out like some fucking Puritan throwback.
“Are—”
He cuts me off. “We sleep in separate rooms.”
A strange silence settles between us. My shoulders pull back on instinct, spine straightening like it knows something I don't. Not that we haven't had silence before, only this time, it feels different. Taut. My throat tightens. Like the knot of a bow tightening, only not around a wedding gift, but around me. And that's not a bow. It's a noose.
“Okay,” I say instead, because a noose is only another accessory to add to my collection. Ceramic.Fragile. Perfect, for him. “Is there a reason why?”
He drags his hand over his cheek, battling with his answer.Lie.“You and I both appreciate our space, so this will allow us to keep that.”
How cute.
With a flick around the room, his eyes land back on me. “I wasn't sure what decorations you'd like, so I picked everything.”
A small twitch pulls at my lips. I've survived worse than separate bedrooms. I could do this. Did it strike me as odd that he’d decided to put a large amount of distant between us now? Yes, but I wasn’t about to argue.
“Thank you,” I say, fingers biting into my palms.
