Page 44 of Saint Valentine

Of course she did.

“You’re a fucking distraction.”

I hadn’t noticed her take the knife. Hadn’t noticed my own guards driving me to fuck knows where.

We were surrounded by warehouses, the air sharp with the smell of oil and metal.

“Then let me fucking go!” she rolled her eyes.

My jaw ticked. My agitation must’ve been written all over my face because when I stepped forward, she took a step back. She never flinched.

I didn’t let her get far.

I reached out, my fingers wrapping around her jaw, forcing her to look at me. My grip was tight, just shy of painful, but enough to remind her exactly where we stood.

“Princess, you will stop fucking suggesting I let you go.” My voice was quiet, deadly. “You will comply with my orders, and you will marry me. Nothing you say will change that. Nothing you do will make me let you go.”

I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“So unless you’re prepared to kill me, you will be my fucking wife.”

Her breath hitched. Then she went silent. She just stared at me like she wanted to hit me.

I didn’t have time to deal with her and the danger we were in by staying there. I pulled out my phone and called Luciano.

He answered. “Yeah?”

“I need you to go to the compound and get her friends. Kill anyone who stands in your way. Keep them safe.”

“It already begun?” I knew he was asking if the attempts on her life had started.

“Yes.” I hung up, knowing Luciano would do what I asked. He owed me more than a few favors. I’d helped track down a few of the men involved in his mother’s murder.

Aria was standing a few feet away, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched me. “Are you sure they’re safe with him?”

“He’s like me, but more violent with less conscience. They’ll be safe.”

“Then what now? What do we do?” she asked, her voice calmer but still laced with tension.

“Get in the car.” I didn’t bother asking for the knife she had stolen because I knew she would give it to me.

She didn’t argue. She just nodded. Then opened the car door and pulled the other dead guard out, leaving him in the parking lot with his killer, who had stopped moving.

She wiped the blood off her hands on her jeans and climbed into the passenger seat.

I slid in behind the wheel, gripping it tighter than necessary before starting the engine.

“I know where we can go.” My voice was flat, my mind already calculating my next moves.

Somewhere safe. Somewhere they wouldn’t find us.

“it’s a tow hour drive.”

Until I figured out what to do about my father.

I cringed inwardly at the wordfather.

Now that I knew he wasn’t mine, the word felt foreign. Wrong.

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