: Chapter 14

I wake to the piercing sound of the alarm, red lights sweeping over the dark balcony I fell asleep on. I jump up, running into the room and grabbing the heel I shoved under the pillow for an emergency just like this. I dash for the door, flattening myself against the wall behind it, and take steady breaths like my training taught me.

Not thirty seconds later, it flies off its hinges and I have to press my lips firmly together to keep from squealing when the heavy wood cuts my already battered toes.

The barrel of a gun comes into view and as soon as the long fingers wrapped around it do, I strike, digging the sharp point into their forearm and heaving my knee up to get him in the balls, but I no sooner lift my foot off the ground when my wrists are caught. I’m spun in one second, slammed against the wall in the next, my hands pinned above my head.

Enzo’s dark eyes find mine from behind the low-slung bandana and he brings a finger to his lips.

I freeze, nodding.

Enzo looks left, listening intently as footsteps race down the hall, so he doesn’t see what I do in the sky behind him.

A drone swoops in out of nowhere, the machinery somehow completely fucking silent, Enzo whips around, a split second later its laser now bright on his temple.

My hands fly to his holster, drawing his gun swiftly. I lift the cold steel with my left hand and pull the trigger, shoving him out of its path with my right.

The drone goes down with a crash.

Enzo spins, eyes blazing with anger as he looks from it to me.

“Are you crazy?” he growls, pressing into me, but another drone comes, and I lift the gun again.

“Yogurt!” echoes from somewhere, making me hesitate. “Yogurt, fuck!”

The alarm comes to an abrupt stop, the lights flicking on in the hall outside my room. My chest heaves, brows frowning. “Wha…”

Enzo’s breaths are harsh, his eyes black and wild as he tears the bandana from around his nose. He glares, snatching the gun from my grip and lowering it to his side, but he doesn’t move back.

“What just happened?” I pant.

“Mino ran a drill.” His scowl deepens.

“A drill?”

He gives a curt nod. “They’re random. The team, nor I, know when they’re coming.”

Someone charges in the room then, dropping to their knees by the busted drone.

“My love,” the man whines, whipping his head this way, and even though he wears the bandana, his big round eyes tell me he’s legitimately pouting behind it. “You had to take out its brains? Why not a wing?”

I blink. “Oh, I’m sorry. So, next time, you want me to wound the robot trying to kill your king instead? Got it. And by the way, drones don’t have wings. Or a brain.”

The guy is about to argue, but Enzo cuts him off.

“Get the fuck out of this room. Now,” he growls without looking back, eyes hard and on mine.

“What?”

“You do not save me, do you understand? If there is a threat at my back, you bury yourself in my front. I will be your bulletproof vest. I will be your shield. I am the wall between you and danger, do you understand me?”

“I need a real weapon,” I say instead.

“I am your weapon.”

I grit my teeth and his chest rumbles.

I expect him to argue, to fight me as he seems to love to do, but instead he steps back, walking over to the shelves on the wall near the bed.

He glares at me as he bangs his fist against the backing, and I watch as a small compartment lowers, a sleek, silver pistol sitting on a bed of blue velvet, two clips nestled beside it. My brows jump in shock, but his frown holds strong as he moves to the built-in case on the opposite side and does the same, this time revealing a set of knives in order of smallest to largest, left to freaking right, just the way I like it.

A smile breaks across my face as I stare at the beauties, and I rush over, lifting the largest from its place.

It’s so pretty, the soft, dusty pink not unlike my ring. Almost shimmery, both handle and blade. Running my finger over the tip, I press it into my pointer. Immaculately sharp.

Lifting it closer, my teeth chew at the inside of cheek, my lips still curved high when I spot the small detail I didn’t notice at first glance.

Etched into the lowest point of the blade, is the letter B.

Could be the manufacturer.

Could be generic, a gift from some random site when you google what’s a good gift for a bride.

Granted, I’m not sure what bridal site would sell throwing knives and there’s no trademark symbol that confirms the logo is in fact one.

No. The B is for Boston. These were made with me in mind.

My grip grows a little tighter.

They were made just for me…

Enzo’s stare burns into my cheek, so I chance a glance at him, finding a strange look on his face.

Unease grows within me, and I slowly lower the knife back into the box. “What?”

He blinks, a small smile pulling at his lips. “That might have been the first smile I’ve earned, and it wasn’t even over the case of diamonds I offered, but a simple blade set.”

“I can’t kill you with diamonds.” My tease is far less sassy than intended. “And they’re not simple.” They’re perfect…but I didn’t mean to say that.

My eyes slice to his and he tips his head a little, regarding me in this lazy, sexy way he’s seemed to perfect.

Enzo holsters his weapon, moving to the balcony to step out and look over the railing, so I grab the gun he dropped when I stabbed him with the heel and carry it over to the bed, setting it beside me as I lower on top. He glances back, taking in the freshly made bed with a frown, his gaze falling to the pillow pad beneath his feet.

“You slept outside.”

I purse my lips, nodding. “I’m realizing now that may not have been the best idea.”

“A real threat would never make it as far as this balcony.”

“There are always weak spots to be found,” I repeat my father’s famous words.

“Not where your security is concerned,” he promises, eyes holding strong on my face before lowering, reminding me I’m in nothing but a satin cami and short set.

I jump up, walking backward into the closet, if only to hide my imperfections.

“Um.” I grab a robe and tie it around me before stepping into the bathroom. “Let me fix the mess I made before you stain something.”

Enzo frowns until he sees the first aid kit, and when I point to the edge of the bed, I swear a grin ghosts his lips as he does what he’s told. I half wonder if it’s the first time in his life he’s ever listened but decide against asking as much.

It’s a perfect circle of a cut, right over the bone of his left forearm. It’s not a spot that bleeds much, yet I still nod to myself, impressed with the damage. I bet those heels would go through someone’s neck if need be. Now that would be a bloody mess.

“At least it won’t affect your dominant hand.”

“So, you do pay attention to me.”

“You’re kind of hard to miss.”

“No more than you’re impossible to.”

My hand freezes a moment, but I snap out of it, tearing open the alcohol wipe and dabbing at the wound before stepping back.

“What, no Band-Aid?” he teases.

I roll my eyes and a low chuckle leaves him; it’s a soft, easy sound I don’t hate.

He looks around the room then, assessing the way I live. He takes note of how my cappuccino cup is sitting beneath the spout, waiting for me to simply press the button to get it going, and at the pair of slippers at the very edge of the bed. He looks to the book sitting beside the bedside lamp, a Post-it note tucked inside as a placeholder, and to the one lying open and upside down on the balcony. He notices the desk that’s still shoved against one side and the bed pushed farther than it should be, no longer even with the center of the wall.

Confusion creases his forehead, but his eyes continue to roam, and mine fall to the strong stretch of his neck. To the tattoo there.

To my mark.

Hesitantly, I reach up, my fingers shaking as I skate them along his skin.

Enzo jolts with shock and I hold still, but then he stretches his neck further, his legs falling open wider. With a steady breath, I step closer, applying a little more pressure with my touch.

In my peripheral, Enzo’s eyes close, and a smile twitches at my lips, but I pull them between my teeth to keep it at bay.

Big bad Enzo Fikile can’t possibly be touch-starved, can he?

“It’s starting to scab. You need to put some salve on it.”

He hums, not moving a fraction of an inch. “Been meaning to.”

I go to step back, but eyes closed and all, his hand latches around my wrist.

“I…I’ll be right back,” I tell him and I’m not sure why I think he wants to confirm as much, but when he gives a single, curt nod, letting me go, I decide it was the right thing to say.

Stepping into the bathroom, I pull in a long breath, willing my hands to stop shaking as I dig open the small drawer in the vanity, pulling out the little jar.

When I turn around, now facing the open doorway, a sharp inhale fills my lungs.

Enzo is tracking my every move and continues to do so as I slowly make my way back. His legs are still wide open, so I gingerly step between them, holding the bottle up for him to read when he gives it a questioning glance.

He lifts a brow, looking from it to me. “Why do you have tattoo salve?”

I smirk, unscrewing the lid and dipping my finger inside. So, Grandma didn’t ask permission to get the things I asked for from the department store.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“You have no idea,” he murmurs, and I choose to pretend he didn’t speak.

Enzo cocks his head, and this time, his eyes stay glued on my face as I rub the cool, Vaseline-like ointment across the shape of my lips on his neck.

His skin is warm against my touch, almost as if melting the salve on contact, and I tell myself that’s why I glide my fingers over the space more times than necessary.

“Thank you,” I finally whisper, and our eyes meet. “For the knives.”

Enzo stares as if contemplating a response, and only when I look away does he say, “I had them made for you when I was in Costa Rica.”

My chest clenches and our gazes lock once more.

When he was in Costa Rica.

That’s where I was told he was when my father took me back to Greyson Manor before Enzo was made to think I had changed my mind on our arrangement.

I figured he was fine with my breaking our contract, that he decided it was for the best and didn’t care whether I came back or not. I approached him for this deal, after all, not the other way around.

But if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have had something especially made for me…would he?

Of course, it could simply have been his way of pacifying me on his return. It’s what most men in our world do, shower their wives with lavish gifts and extravagant trips as a way to keep them in line…or their mouths shut.

I swallow, my hands falling to my sides as I try to step away, but his palms close around my waist, holding me where I am. Right between his strong thighs.

“Look at me.”

I force myself to obey.

His mouth opens, but closes as he reaches into his pocket, pulling his phone out. A curse leaves him and he sighs, pushing to his feet as he shoves it back in his slacks. My eyes follow his until I’m looking up at him, one hand still holding on to my hip.

His free hand comes up, running under my lower lip before he gathers my long hair from my back and lays it across my shoulder, his fingers gliding through its length on their descent.

“Do me a favor?” he whispers.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak with him this close. All I see is him and all I can think is how good his warm grip feels on my body.

“Sleep in the bed tonight.” He might have asked for a favor, but we both know it’s not a question. He’ll see to it that I’m not outside all night, and it’s not worth the risk of him dead-bolting the doors closed once more.

Wait. I frown, looking out at the sky. “What time is it?” I ask, realizing it’s still dark out and he’s freshly showered and shaved. “And why are you in a new suit?

“It’s two in the morning and I have business to tend to.”

“At two in the morning?”

“Didn’t you know?” He tips his head all cocky-like. “Devils work in the dark.”

A light laugh leaves me, and Enzo smiles, an actual, slip-of-the-teeth kind of smile. It’s so unexpected, so…I don’t know, but it sends a flutter through my stomach. The man looks really good when he smiles.

It almost makes him appear a little more human and less like a dark god.

He squeezes my hips before releasing me and makes his way to the door.

“Hey, Enzo,” I call out before I can stop myself, hating how my heart is pounding wildly with his exit.

He pauses just outside the room, looking at me over his shoulder.

“Don’t die.”

His eyes bore into mine and he gives a single nod before walking away.

Nerves flitter through me as he leaves, making my stomach bubble and my skin tingle, and it’s not until I close the balcony doors, climbing under my covers that I realize what the feeling is.

It’s a buzz I’m not sure I know.

A nervous energy I’m unaccustomed to.

A tingling beneath my ribs and an airy sensation swimming in my stomach.

Silly me, I’m so helpless as it’s also…hope.

Maybe I can keep my husband after all.

“I thought he’d never leave.”

My head whips to the door to find Katana smirking back at me.

Or maybe not…