Page 28 of Kingpin

Is her name even Brianna?

“There. That should help. Where’s your peroxide?” she asked.

When I didn’t answer, her eyes rose to mine.

“All right. Fine. I’ll be honest with you.”

“Are you capable of that?”

She snickered. “I’m happy here. With you. Today? Even with all the gunfire? It’s the happiest I’ve been since I was a child. I feel safe here. I smile every morning and go to sleep without wanting anything every night. So, all I have to say to you is good luck. Because I don’t know how you’ll break that kind of happiness.”

My eyes narrowed as she started moving back towards the bedroom.

“There’s no need for you to sleep in a room that isn’t yours any longer. I’ll move my things to one of the other bedrooms down the hall. Let me know if you need anything else.”

And with that, she closed the bathroom door.

A war raged within me. A war between slaughtering her, teaching her a lesson, and being in awe of her strength. I put my foot down on the floor, pressing it against the bloodstained washcloth, and I debated whether or not to put that bitch in an entirely different place from my own. Was that the only vial of poison she had on her? Did she have others hidden in places?

I had several safe houses I could put her in. Stashing her away until I had use for her.

Pava must’ve put her up to this.

I slammed my fists against the granite countertops of my bathroom. I drew in deep breaths, trying to keep my anger at bay. I squeezed my eyes closed. I cursed myself for not seeing it sooner, but as a realization dawned on me, I slowly lifted my head.

I stared at myself in the mirror.

“Pava did this,” I whispered.

In a lot of ways, it made sense. I mean, if Brianna—or whatever the hell her name was—hadn’t enacted her side of the plan, then that meant he was probably taking things into his own hands. Trying to find his own way to kill me, without a care in the world as to what happened to his daughter. Another lightbulb went off. My eyes widened as I whipped around toward the bathroom door.

She’s not his daughter.

Because who in their right fucking mind would risk their own daughter as collateral damage against their family’s biggest enemy?

Who the hell have I married?

12

Bonnie

It tookme most of the evening to move my things into the room at the other end of the hallway.

Through the other set of double doors, was a library-bedroom combination that took my breath away. The room had its own private terrace overlooking Chicago. With a cushioned chair and a wrought iron table, it felt like something out of a fairy tale.

I forced myself to soak in a hot bath that night. The jetted tub kept me company until the water went cold. It was hard to sleep that night. I tossed and turned a great deal mostly, anticipating the moment when Israel barged in, pinned me down, and made me his.

It didn't matter what I wanted in the process.

But he never came, and when I woke up the next morning, I didn’t see him. He wasn’t in his room. He wasn’t downstairs. It didn’t even look like he’d been in the kitchen. While I wanted to call him and ask him where he was, I knew better than to think I had any sort of privilege to know that information.

Hell, he probably thought I’d report back to someone.

After enjoying coffee by myself on my private terrace, I reached for my phone. I decided to check my bank accounts and see what kind of money I had to play around with. Maybe I’d take myself on a trip. Whisk myself somewhere and spend what should’ve been our honeymoon by myself. Experience new things. Maybe I’d book a flight to Italy. Or Paris. Or Sydney, to go take in my first opera.

Something my uncle always promised me, but never delivered.

“What the—”

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