DOMINIC
“You look like shit,” I muttered, glancing at Vincent, who pulled the ice pack from his face as I sauntered into my bedroom in one of my many safe houses.
This one was my favorite—a modern log home nestled deep within hundreds of acres of woods in the middle of nowhere. I could've had a shack with the bare necessities, but I wasn’t that sort of guy.
He shot me a sour look and gave me the finger.
“I guess our little wasp has a sting, huh?” I unbuttoned my shirt and tossed it onto the bed, not feeling an ounce of humor.
I was so exhausted my head hurt. I’d spent the night before not only worrying about Bianca knocked out in the room next to mine, but I'd also had to deal with my father when the order came in to kill her. I’d told him I was dealing with it and had struck a deal to keep Natalia Vasiliev alive, citing my desperate need to torture her, proving my power to the Bratva. I had my hands in a million pots, stirring all of them in the hopes I could cook up something in the small window of time I had left.
“She's got a damn sting all right. Let’s say I wasn’t expecting her to kick my ass,” he grunted, pressing the cold pack back to his face. “I grabbed the ice pack out of your tiny ass freezer.” He nodded to the small fridge and freezer combo in the room. “Where is she? I was going to go after her but decided I needed ice more than I needed another kick to my balls. Since I knew you were here, I figured you’d keep track of her.”
“Her room. I had to lock her in. Thankfully, she can’t get out through the window. I didn’t want to tie her down again.”
“Wouldn’t put it past her to put her lamp through the window anyway,” he said with a sigh as he adjusted the pack.
“She can try. It’s shatterproof.” I grabbed a pressed dress shirt from its hanger and put it on.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
“Well, you know what'll happen if I don’t. She’ll be dead before sunset.” I swallowed and grabbed the black, silk tie from its spot on the dresser and hastily knotted it as I stared at myself in the long mirror. This wasn’t how I envisioned my wedding day. I always assumed I’d marry some bitch arranged by my father or one after my money. Not this. Never this.
But at least I gave a shit about Bianca. Maybe I wasn’t the best at showing her, but I was new to the entire relationship thing. Or whatever the fuck it was we had.
Vincent frowned, remaining silent. He didn’t need to say anything. I knew how he felt. He was broken because she was going to be my wife with my last name. If there was one thing about my best friend, it was that he was a romantic. Sure, he went through women like toilet paper, but he wasn’t like Levin and me. Where Levin and I just fucked to feel good, Vincent was searching for a connection. If he didn’t feel it, he moved to the next option. He'd found that connection with Bianca, and I was the bastard taking it away.
“Father only offered me a small window of time to get my shit sorted with a plan for her. I need to deliver my plan to him sooner rather than later. I’m not sure how long I can push him off.” I paused, carefully straightening the cuffs of my shirt.
“I meant what I said,” I called out, slipping into my suit jacket. “She’s still yours as much as mine. She gets my name on paper, but she belongs to all of us.”
Vincent grunted, refusing to look at me.
Sighing, I moved and sank down beside him on my bed. I reached out and tugged him to me, embracing one of my best friends.
“She’s still ours,” I whispered as I hugged him. “I swear it to you.”
“You really think your jealous, possessive streak is going to let that happen once her name is beside yours on that marriage license?” He swallowed and stared at me.
I rested my forehead against his, my hands on either side of his face. “I’m a prick. I don’t deny it, but if you feel even half of what I feel for her, then I’d be the biggest asshole to take that from you when I promised it to begin with. I'll learn to control myself. When it’s you and Levin, it’s not so bad. I want this. I accept this. I promise, Vin.”
Vincent nodded and breathed out. “You never break a promise.”
“Usually,” I murmured, thinking about how things didn’t quite go the way I’d thought they would in the woods.
I hadn’t really broken my promise. Levin had failed to perform, something I’d prayed for. For fuck's sake, I had a priest locked up in an upstairs bedroom. Shit had escalated rather quickly.
Either God or the devil listened to those silent pleas. Whichever one, I’d thank him when we met someday.
I pressed my lips to Vincent’s forehead and pulled away.
“I believe you,” he said, his dark eyes on me as I got to my feet.
“Good.” I grabbed my dress pants from the hanger, unzipped my dark khakis, and let them fall to the floor before tugging on my pressed pants. I caught Vincent’s gaze lingering on me, seemingly lost in thought, so I cleared my throat.
He snapped his stare back to my face.
“You OK?”
He nodded. “Yeah. It’s just a lot, man. She’s going to hate us. I don’t want that.”
“She’ll understand. She’s a good girl.” I zipped my pants and put my belt on, studying my reflection in the mirror.
Vincent’s phone buzzed, drawing his attention. “Levin will be here in ten. He’s got Stella.”
Perfect.My plan was already rolling out without a hitch. I huffed out a breath. In a few short hours, I’d be a married man. Bianca D’Angelou would be my wife. And then, I’d put my baby inside her, an heir to the De Santis throne. We’d rule it our way. Together. As a family. A real one, none of the shit I grew up with.
Sometimes saving a life required making a new one. I was willing to do whatever it took to keep her alive, even make her hate me.
Maybe I was getting a hang of this love shit.