I shake my head. “No. The night of my welcome home party, he cupped my pussy in my office and I wanted to cut his hand off.”
“I thought he was your boyfriend?” He questions through gritted teeth.
“No, we were just dating. I kissed him, but I never let things go further. I felt creeped out when he touched me. I don’t know why. Deep down I know it’s all to do with you.”
Nico takes my hand, leads me inside. I know Nico wants to murder Kobi even more now. He tosses his jacket on the hunter green chaise lounge chair in the corner.
Nico turns to face me. He brings my ring to his lips and kisses it.
“Get me out of this dress,” I whisper.
He steps behind me and unzips the gown. His lips trail down my back.
“You’re the only man for me. Not sure why I tried to be with anyone else.”
Nico pushes the straps down my arms, then helps me step out of the beautiful gown.
“Fuck, look at all that ass.”
He drops to his knees and presses kisses along my indented skin.
My head falls back because having his lips on my skin is the best fucking feeling.
“You didn’t have to wear the dress so tight.”
I glance over my shoulder at him. “Luckily, this is our last wedding.”
“Better fucking believe that,” he growls.
“And don’t ever wear clothes that will indent your skin again. I love you the way you are.”
His true words warm my heart.
He picks up the gown and places it on the chair. He returns and I start unbuttoning his shirt.
“Mr. Wolf, I miss your hairy body.” I smirk.
He smiles. “I knew you loved the hair.”
I chuckle as I push the shirt over his muscled shoulders. It falls to the floor, and I stop breathing.
My eyes move across his abdomen slowly. Too slowly, like my mind is refusing to process what my eyes are already reading. The scars. The wounds. Four of them, angry and permanent, mapped across skin I once knew by heart.
And above them, in ink so deliberate it steals what’s left of my breath.
Serenity.
My name. Tattooed above every place a bullet tried to take him from this world.
My knees hit the floor before I make the decision to kneel.
The sob that tears out of me doesn’t feel like mine — it’s too raw, too wrecked, pulled from somewhere I didn’t know I still had access to. My hands fly to my mouth, but they don’t stop anything. Nothing could stop this.
My fingers reach for him, shaking, tracing the raised edges of the largest wound. Beneath it, curved like a prayer, two words I will never recover from:
For Serenity.
“You were shot four times?”
