Page 98
I huff against him. “I was so mean to you. I can’t believe you came back.”
“You were magnificent.” He kisses me tenderly, a promise in every touch. “You still are. And every day, you only grow more magnificent.”
The kiss deepens. His hands slide into my hair, and my fingers lift the hem of his shirt. With no desperation or fear driving us tonight, we make slow, tender love, indulging in the quiet joy of two people who’ve chosen each other.
Afterward, I lie on my stomach, my chin propped on his chest, watching the lamplight play across the planes of him while his fingers rake lazy paths through my hair. Cued by his phone buzzing twice, he reaches for it, types one-handed, and then sets it down.
“Work?” I ask, the question muffled against his skin.
“Always.” He kisses my forehead. “Nothing you need to worry about, though. Just Nico being Nico.”
The dismissive edge in his voice gives me pause. Should I demand that he tell me the truth about whatever he’s hiding? But I’m so tired, so content, and so full of the heat of him and the glow of the evening.
“Don’t keep secrets from me.” I murmur the quiet plea.
“I won’t.” He nudges me closer. “I promise.”
I want to believe him, but as sleep drags me under, a corner of my mind whispers treacherous words.
He’s hiding a truth he thinks will hurt me. I know he is.
When I wake hours later, it’s pitch-black, like it usually is before dawn, and he’s asleep beside me. His breathing is even, and on the nightstand, his phone glows faintly with notifications. I’m still staring when the screen goes off, and my gut screams that those messages are brimming with foul machinations he doesn’t want me to see.
I could check. I could read his messages, uncover what he’s protecting me from, and discover what Nico needed to communicate so urgently.
Instead, I curl closer to him, press my lips to his shoulder, and try to trust and believe in the promises we’ve made.
His phone buzzes one more time, and I reach across him to silence it before it wakes him. The screen lights the moment my fingers brush it.
Mason’s moving. We need to deal with him sooner.
My blood runs cold.
Mason? What does Nico want with Mason?
Why is Marco keeping secrets two nights before our wedding?
Sleep doesn’t come back, but when Marco stirs at dawn and slips from the room, I keep my eyes closed and let him go.
I listen to him rattle around as silently as he can, and when the door clicks shut behind him, I’m left alone wondering if I should’ve just asked.
Chapter 28
Marco
I’m in Enzo’s office, nervous as hell about saying my vows right.
I suck in several gulps of air thick with cigar smoke while staring at satellite images. Our chapel, built of smooth, carved stone, sits on the eastern edge of the compound, close enough to reach on foot but far enough from the main villa that defending both would stretch us thin.
We just got intel that Tomas is planning an attack on the estate. Tomorrow, I’m supposed to stand at an altar and speak my vows. Tonight, I’m staring at sight lines and calculating how many men it takes to keep a bride alive long enough to say hers.
“They might hit during the ceremony.” Nico’s voice carries the calm, clinical air of someone who’s delivered bad news too many times to soften it. “That’s what I’d do. Maximum chaos, maximum casualties. Tomas knows our protocols, where our people will be positioned, and every gap in our security because he helped design half of them. He’ll exploit all of our weaknesses.”
Enzo studies the maps, his biceps flexing as he clenches the mahogany desk. “Can we secure it?”
“Physically? Yes.” Nico pulls up another overlay. Defensive positions bloom across the satellite image. “We can put enough bodies in place to turn any assault into a suicide mission. That’ll force them to pay for every inch. We can lock down the perimeter, control all sight lines, and create overlapping fields of fire.”
He pauses, looking around to meet every eye in the room. “But costly doesn’t mean impossible. If they’re willing to die, they’ll get through eventually. If Tomas has Bruno’s backing, he probably has plenty of men like that, so the question becomes how many of them we can handle.”
