Page 27 of Once A Villain

The sight of her here was a surprise—finding out she’s married to Conrad was an even bigger one. I’ve been buried in missions, too busy to give a shit about East Coast drama, let alone who’s marrying who.

“Can we talk?” Her voice carries a sultry edge as she steps closer, her hand sliding up my chest.

“No.”

“I was hoping you’d be nicer to me, for old times’ sake,” she purrs.

“We have nothing to discuss.” I push past her, and she grabs my arm in a desperate attempt to stop me.

“You’ll regret this.”

I whirl around, our faces inches apart.

“Don’t fuck with me, Alicia. I won’t hesitate to slit your throat.” Her face drains of color, and she swallows hard, visibly shaken. Giving her a final warning glare, I walk away.

As the guests thin out and the band packs up, I move toward the side of the house. That’s when I see her.

She’s sitting on the back porch, her wedding dress spilling over the steps. She doesn’t notice me—head resting on her arms, completely still.

“We’re done here. You’re riding home with me.”

She doesn’t speak. Her breathing stays steady. Is she asleep? Ignoring me? Either way, it fucking irritates me.

I grip her arm again, pulling her upright.

“Hey!” she shoves me back.

“I said we’re done here.”

“Auntie!” Two little girls come running across the yard, heading straight for Rory. They wrap their arms around her, and she smiles as she hugs them.

“Hi, baby girls,” she says softly, holding them close.

“Mommy said you’re moving. Can we still have sleepovers and play tea parties?” a blue-eyed girl asks.

Rory’s smile fades, and her jaw tenses.

“Of course we can.” She forces a smile. I can see the pain in her eyes, catching me off guard. It’s an unexpected feeling—I hate it.

“Let’s go,” I growl, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from the girls. Rory gives them a weak smile and follows me.

“They’re my nieces,” she mutters.

“And?” I say, not giving a shit.

“Nothing,” she snaps, her tone laced with venom. “I can drive myself.”

“No. Griffen is driving your car back. You’ll ride with me.” Her scowl deepens as I open the passenger door. She gets in, her wedding dress sprawling across the passenger seat. I slam the door shut, appreciating her murderous glare.

Yesterday, I had all her belongings packed and moved into the east wing of my mansion. It’s equipped with everything she could need, except an exit. Cameras are installed throughout, ensuring she can’t escape. And if that’s not enough, I’ll lock her in. I will have her body and her obedience.

As we pull up to the house, the massive stone structure looms imposingly in the fading light. Rory stares out the window, her eyes wide. The iron gates swing open, and I pull into the driveway.

“Is this where you live?”

“Yes,” I reply, exiting the car.

She opens the door and steps out. The house staff are waiting outside, but I walk past them without introducing her. She can figure out who’s who on her own.

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