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Sophia
He slides into the backseat beside me, the smell of gunpowder mixing with his expensive cologne. “Drive.” His tone is cold as he addresses the driver, but when he looks at me, there’s a warmth in his eyes.
“What happened?” I glance at the busted window.
“I took care of it.” He settles into the seat and pulls out his phone. His thick fingers tap rapidly, firing off a message that has to be angry. I suppose he would be, given that someone just tried to kill him.
I close my eyes and pull his jacket tighter around me. At least he cleared the room before he ripped my dress from my body. You know, after he shot my new husband. After I watched as the blood trickled down onto the salad in front of him as if it were the dressing. I shudder at the emotion that runs through me because it’s not sadness, it’s relief. Now I’m practically naked with an unfamiliar enemy who has shown me just enough compassion to be confusing.
I still don’t understand his urgency to destroy my wedding dress. I hate the dress, too. It’s beautiful, sure, but not for me. It’s too showy, and I never favored it. I’m more into simple designs. Plainer clothes. Blending in. I always try to fly under the radar by never wearing anything that would draw any extra attention to myself. My wedding dress was the complete opposite of that. I looked exactly like a little princess being passed to her prince. Except Antonio was no prince. If he was, it was of darkness. Above all else, I had been dreading our wedding night. More so because I knew how angry he was when the priest said, “You may kiss the bride,” and I turned my head, only giving him my cheek. His mouth merely brushed the side of mine, and even that seemed like too much for me. I don’t know why I’d decided to poke the beast, but I had. Then again, I suppose that really doesn’t matter now. I’m a widow, something I’m not at all sad about.
Not knowing what his motives are, I tread lightly around this stranger. So far, he’s killed my husband and made me undress. I almost laugh at how ridiculous this entire situation is. At least he had the decency to offer me his coat. It surprised me for a minute. I wasn't sure I’d heard him correctly at first. Not after the way he spoke to me before about ripping the dress from my body. Now he was offering to cover me up?
A hysterical laugh comes from me.
He raises a brow. “What is so amusing, cara mia? I expected you to be shaking in fear, not in laughter.”
I only laugh harder because he’s right. I laugh because I’m more confused about the dress than the death of Antonio. I should be shaking in fear but why? What more can this man do to me that would be worse than what my husband would have done tonight in our wedding bed?
When I finally catch my breath, I ask, “Why did you hate my dress so much?”
“Not ‘why did you kill my husband?’” he asks back. His dark eyes roam over me like he’s trying to figure me out. I finally get a good look at him. He’s handsome--if you’re into the killing type.
“Does he even count as my husband? We didn't sign the final paper or...” I pause. “You know. Do the deed.”
For the first time the man--possibly my savior or my soon-to-be worst nightmare--cracks a smirk. “You mean he didn’t fuck you?”
“Consummate the marriage,” I correct.
“Do you always have such a smart mouth?” His tone is flat, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far.
“Do you always rip dresses from women you don’t even know?” I shoot back then bite my tongue. What is wrong with me? First I needled Antonio, and now I’m provoking the man who killed him. Antonio was a pussycat compared to the man beside me. No, the dark-haired killer at my side isn’t one to toy with. He clearly has more power than my family and Antonio’s combined.
All of Antonio’s servants and friends had stared in shock as this man walked into the room and ordered them to leave. Only Antonio and I were to remain. One look at this killer, and I said a thankful prayer that my brother hadn’t arrived yet. He was still at the church.
He’s been watching me as my mind clicks on first one topic and then the next, as if he’s trying to read me. Finally, he says, “ripping a dress is nothing, cara mia. I do anything I want.”
I turn to look out the window. Of course he does. The small glimmer of hope I felt fades away. I don’t know why I had it to begin with. I’m only going from one devil to another, it seems. At least this new one is handsome, his raven black hair silkier than it has any right to be.
“My brother,” I say when the car grows quiet. I debated bringing him up. I don’t want this man to know the power he could yield over me with the knowledge of how much my brother means to me. Yet I need to know he’s safe. I honestly don’t know if he’s having my entire family killed as we speak. “Please don’t hurt him.”
“I have no quarrel with your brother. He is but a boy, no?”
“He will likely have a quarrel with you.” I let out a long sigh. “He will come looking for me even if he knows it could get him killed.” I turn to face the man whose name I still don’t know. His face is blank, and I can’t read him. “I’ll do anything to keep him safe.” I lay my cards on the table.
He grabs a lock of my hair and rubs it between his thumb and forefinger. “Do as I tell you, cara mia, and I will make sure your brother is safe.”
“Vow it.” I tilt my chin up in challenge.
His nostrils flare at my defiance, but he speaks evenly. “After you make your vows to me tonight, I’ll promise you that I will do everything in my power to keep your brother safe.”
That’s better than anyone else has ever offered. He gives it so freely, even when he could simply take whatever he wants. After all, he said that’s what he does.
But with me, he bargains?
“What kind of vows do you want?” I ask. I have nothing to give, especially not to a man like him.
“Of marriage.” He says it so simply, as commonplace as “it’s sunny.”
