It also helps that I got to fuck over her parents. Those bastards treated my mother and me like shit.
Ever since she died, I’ve wanted revenge. While they might not have killed her, I still blamed them. This plan killed two birds with one stone.
I continue to watch and listen for anything coming from her room.
My wife.
The word tastes good and wrong and addictive.
I take a slow drink, the burn settling low in my chest, when my phone buzzes.
Matteo.
Perfect.
The last person I want to speak to right now. I’m not sure what my plan is, but keeping a bride locked up in my house won’t go over well with him, so for now, I have no plan.
I slide my thumb across the screen. “If you’re calling to discuss your feelings.” I lean against the wall with a lazy slouch, “please lose my number.”
“Where the hell are you?” Matteo asks, the sound of engine noise behind him. “I’ve been at the estate waiting for you for thirty minutes.”
“Well . . .” I examine my reflection in the whiskey glass. “That sounds like ayouproblem.”
“You sound drunk, which I obviously don’t care about, but you said you’d meet me. My father wants you here now. He’s losing his mind.”
“Uncle losing his mind is not breaking news.” I laugh. “That’s a typical Tuesday.”
“Lorenzo. Just come.”
I sigh dramatically, pushing off the wall. “Fine. I’m out running an errand. I’ll be there in twenty.”
“What errand?” he asks.
I smirk. “The kind you don’t get to ask about,” I say in a mocking tone, so he thinks I’m joking. Hopefully, he doesn’t call my bluff.
Matteo sighs. “Just get here.”
“I’m touched by your concern,” I respond before hanging up.
I finish my whiskey and glance at her door once more—half expecting her to wake up, half hoping she doesn’t.
I should feel powerful. Victorious. She’s in my bed, wearing my ring, tethered to my world whether she wants it or not.
Instead, something sharp sits in the center of my ribs.
I shove it down and walk to the landing where two of my hired private guards stand watch. They straighten the second they see me, hands clasped behind their backs.
“She stays put,” I adjust my cuffs as if that’s the most natural command in the world. “She doesn’t step outside this hall. If she does, you call me. If someone comes to the property, you call me. If she sneezes suspiciously, you call me.”
One nods. “Yes, sir. Understood.”
“Good.” I head toward the stairs. “Because she’s the one thing in this house more dangerous than me.”
Their eyes widen, but neither asks for clarification.
Smart men.
I head outside and approach my car, sliding into the driver’s seat. Then I’m peeling down the long driveway.
