A burning pain tears through me. I clamp a hand over my mouth, muffling the scream that rips from my throat.
Oh God. He’s ruined me. Destroyed me.
He’s just signed my death warrant. And still…I don’t regret letting him.
I couldn’t let him die. I couldn’t let Tony Bruni kill himself over a girl whose fate has always been tangled with death. Not when he’s the only man in this world my foolish, inexperienced heart has ever beaten for.
Seconds later, Tony’s full weight collapses onto me, pinning me to the floor and stealing the air from my lungs.
He’s passed out.
Hands shaking, I summon what little strength remains and shove his heavy body off. My entire body trembles uncontrollably,agony tearing through both body and mind.
I look down. A sob lodges in my throat as I bury my face in my hands. For a fleeting moment, the thought crosses my mind—I could kill myself and end this all. What if Carlo finds out?
Just thinking of him snaps me alert, adrenaline floods my veins. No one can know. No one.
With unsteady legs, I force myself to stand and stumble to the bathroom. I wash the evidence off my thighs and then pat them dry with a towel. Clutching the damp towel, I return to the room and kneel in front of Tony to clean him too. Then I rinse the towel in the sink and hide it deep in the trash.
I close the door and smooth out the rug that had bunched beneath us from earlier. Then I return to the bathroom, grabbing my compact and dabbing powder over my cheeks, trying to erase the streaks left by my tears.
As I pull the zipper on the side of my dress, the door suddenly flies open. Carlo steps into the doorway, and his gaze immediately lands on me.
His eyes flick over me, appraising every detail, before his gaze shifts across the room. I take a step toward him before he can speak, my voice calm despite the storm raging inside me.
“Sorry… I took so long. I’m ready now.”
His eyes narrow, suspicion sharpens as he scans the room again. He moves slowly, as though searching for something. My lungs constrict at the thought of him opening that door. But luckily for me, he doesn’t.
“It’s time to cut the cake. Everyone’s waiting for you,” he says as he grabs my arm and guides me out.
***
It’s past midnight when I step into the Bruni estate.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, my hands clutching the golden satin duvet beneath me, I stare blankly ahead, unsure of what to do.
In a few minutes, my husband will walk through that door. He’ll come to claim what’s his. He’ll come to take me.
But I’m not the girl he was promised anymore.
No, I’m no longer pure.
I still can’t fully process what happened to me. It seems unreal, like a nightmare I should’ve woken up from by now. But the ache deep in my lower body tells me otherwise.
It wasn’t a dream.
The broken flashes of those moments with Tony are real.
He tore me apart.
The sound of the door opening snaps me out of my thoughts.A strange twinge twists in my chest, fear coiling like a serpent around my heart.
My eyes dart toward the door.
Oh, God. It’s him.
My husband. Carlo Bruni.The Wife-Killer.
