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I turn away from him, scanning the bloodstained kitchen, eyeing the dead bodies strewn about. I’ve never encountered a dead body before. It’s just as gross and vomit-inducing as I figured it would be.
The drawer that Viktor took the pen and pad from is still open. Glancing inside, I notice a pair of scissors. He isn’t looking at me. He’s too busy writing out our wedding invitations.
I grab the scissors without hesitation and stuff it inside my bra. Thank God the scissors are a small enough pair to fit.
Viktor finishes writing with a flourish and turns to me. “There. How does that sound.”
I read his words out loud. “You are cordially invited to the wedding of Viktor Levin and Gemma Moretti on July 17 at six p.m. Bring your fun but don’t bring guns.” I stare up at him. “Seriously? And why July 17? That’s in a week!”
“I know.” He snatches the pad back. “Better to get married before anyone can stop us.”
“I’mgoing to stop us.”
He taps my nose with his finger. “Oh, Gemma. I like you.”
I crinkle up my nose in disgust. “I’m serious. I’m not marrying you. I didn’t appreciate it when my mother was forcing me to marry someone, and I don’t appreciate you doing it, either. Less even.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a psychopath!” I say, swatting his arm.
“But a cute psychopath. You can’t deny it.” He gives me a disarming smile that, under other circumstances, would have made me flush with heat, but right now, it makes me want to slap him.
“I. Am. Not. Marrying. You.”
“Yes, you are. It’s part of my plan, and I don’t like to deviate from my plans.”
“You’re the definition of unpredictable. I think you’re ok with deviating from your plans. And besides, you thought of this plan just last night. It can’t be that thorough. You can change it if you want.”
He shrugs. “But I don’t want.”
I grumble, losing my patience. “Viktor—”
“Gemma,” he repeats, mocking my serious tone.
I swat him again, which only makes him laugh. “I want freedom. I don’t want to be tied to you forever in matrimony.”
“But if I just let you go, you know Marco will bring you right back to your mom and … Franco. Which, judging by the look on your face, is the last thing you want. You have two options. Option A. You marry someone your mom chooses, and you live as a housewife. Option B. You marry me, and I give you a life of excitement.” He pauses. “Or there’s option C, which involves you trying to escape and failing miserably, and you still end up marrying me.”
“I choose Option C.”
He blinks. “You’re supposed to choose Option B.”
“But Option C gives me the chance to escape. So, I’ll take my chances.” I walk past him, but he grabs my wrist, stopping me.
“Gemma, darling, dearest, light of my life.” I scowl, making him laugh. “We’re getting married. It’s the best option for both of us. Trust me.”
“I don’t trust you.”
He scratches his face. “Well, that is a predicament, isn’t it?”
“Either let me go or not. Either way, the last thing I will ever do in my life is get married toanyone. And that includes you, pretty boy.”
He lights up. “You think I’m pretty?”
I sigh. “Clean up these bodies. They’re already stinking everything up.” I’m trying to be brave, but the sight of all these dead men actually really scares me. “I’ll be in my room. Alone. Because that’s better than being around you.” I walk out of the kitchen.
Viktor calls out, “Our wedding is in a week. Set the date!”
