“I’m craving ice cream,” I say, not caring that water slips in my mouth. “And then I want to go to bed and watch a movie.”
He kisses my forehead, the sweet gesture making me weak in the knees. “Then that’s what you’ll get.”
He’s spoiling me terribly. I grin, and he catches the meaning behind it.
His gaze reflects acceptance. “So be it.”
“Wise man.”
“Wise my ass,” he grumbles, and I burst into laughter.
He wraps me in a fluffy towel, and I squeeze my hair, getting all the wetness out. As he dries himself, I dress in his shirt, loving having something of him on me.
“Not that I mind you wearing my shirt, on the contrary, but I want your stuff next to mine. In our closet. If I have to bring them from the mansion or buy you an entire new wardrobe, I don’t care.”
I giggle. “You might go bankrupt because of how much you spend on me.”
“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”
He gazes at me as if to test his theory. My wonderfully crazy man I love with everything in me.
He’s in shorts, and I wear his shirt as we descend the stairs.
I am too wrapped up in him to notice the sudden shift in the air, but he does because even in the dark, a predator feels someone lurking around.
His body tenses, as if preparing to attack. He pushes me to his back at the exact moment a familiar voice roars, “My fucking sister.”
Enzo switches on the light. My brother looks disheveled, eyes shifting from left to right, taking on a mad gleam. His chest pants with suppressed rage. His state reveals the carnage ensuing, and my heart stops.
I gulp, looking around frantically. Where is my sister-in-law? Without her here, this night will end up in a catastrophe. Panic punches me straight in the gut and I can barely stand upright.
He points his Glock right at Mika’s chest. “I didn’t want to believe what my own eyes, my own ears, my brain told me. But you went there…”
“Let me explain. Put the fucking gun down.” Mika tries, raising his hands in the air in a non-threatening response.
“Now you care about your fucking life?” my brother shouts, his finger shaking on the trigger.
“It’s not fucking about me,” he shouts back, nostrils flaring as he stares my brother dead in the eyes. “It never was. It’s always been about Dahlia. I live for her. So, if you kill me, I’ll fucking bargain with the devil himself to let me torture you for eternity if you cause her that pain. For some fucked-up reason, she wants me. Loves me, and I’m done questioning why. I’ll be damned if I don’t give her everything she desires. Me included.”
My brother still points the gun at him, seemingly unimpressed by the declaration of love.
Tears stream down my face. “Nooo,” I plead with him. My brother, the only other man I love, can’t be the one to tear my happiness away.
A shot rings out. The bullet rips through the air and shreds my love story to pieces. A piercing sound follows, and I realize it’s coming from me.
34
MIKAIL
The bullet rings as loudly as the anguish ripping me apart. Everything happens in slow motion. My first thought is Dahlia. If the bullet even grazes her, I am going to fucking murder the asshole. I scan her from head to toe, getting the irrefutable proof she’s not injured, and I instantly calm down, breathing a deep sigh of relief.
I don’t even care to check on myself. I knew the risk and went with it, disregarding reality.
She’s patting me erratically as if her touch alone could heal me. Her sobs go straight to my chest, wreaking carnage.
I am still standing while Enzo keeps the gun pointed at me. So, I am not dead. Yet. Glancing down at my body, I see no bullet has entered me. No hole. No blood. Looking to my left, I notice the bullet embedded in the wall.
Knowing it’s not over, I shield her from the showdown.
