Chapter 39: : Chapter 39

My head is sore. Correction—it’s fucking pounding. Drinking yesterday was a bad idea. I’ve never been a heavy drinker. I’ve had a few drinks here and there, but my father wasn’t a drinker, and Craig hardly ever drank around me, so I never had any interest in it. Besides, I never liked the idea of being out of control. But yesterday, I clung to it like a crutch as I freaked the fuck out over seeing myself wearing a wedding dress.

A real fucking wedding dress.

Me.

In a wedding dress.

Heat floods my core as I think about the many sinful things I did in said wedding dress.

I groan as my phone starts ringing. I reach for it a few times, but then I give up. I brush my fingers through my hair with one eye open, and my hand snags on something.

Is my hair in a fucking braid?

My phone rings again, and I grumble as I sit up, the room spinning. I find a glass of water next, plus a couple of headache tablets on my bedside table. How did they get there?

My boots are sitting neatly on the floor at the side of the bed, and my phone won’t stop ringing.

I answer it.

“Hello,” I mumble, willing my blinds to close themselves to prevent the bright light from seeping in.

“Good morning. Either let me in, or I’ll break the door down.”

I sigh at Eli’s demanding voice.

“Fine,” I say as I stand, the room swirling around me. Definitely never drinking again.

Managing to make it to the door, I fling it open to find him standing on the other side, nicely dressed in a suit. That’s when I look down at myself and realize I’m half-naked. I grumble because it’s all I can manage to do before I turn and head straight back to my room. He closes the front door and follows me.

Crawling straight back into bed, I pull the bed covers over my face and hope he’ll just go away. The bed dips under his weight, but he doesn’t say anything. He just shifts my head onto his lap and brushes his fingers through my hair. I want to fight him, but I just don’t have the energy, and the head stroking is nice.

I must fall back asleep, and when I wake up again, I peek out from underneath the blanket.

“Did you braid my hair last night?” I ask with a dry mouth.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies, staring down at me with a smug expression.

“That’s creepy.”

“Says the girl, peeking out from her blankets.”

Touché.

If someone asked me to describe Eli Monti when I first met him, patient would not be the first word to come to mind. But little by little, as I’m forced to understand him, I wonder if perhaps he’s only like this with me. I inwardly frown at that.

“Why are you here?” I ask. Most likely to torture me to death with the embarrassment of yesterday. I don’t even remember that much after leaving the shop. Did I give Rya Monti the thumbs up?

“One gun,” he says, and it’s enough to have me sitting up in a rush. He opens his jacket and reveals one of my handguns. My father bought it for me when I was thirteen. I love that one. “I wish your eyes lit up the same way when I reveal other things to you.”

“You better not be referring to your cock.”

He leans in with a smile. “What else would I be referring to?”

“If you want me to bounce on your cock in exchange for giving my guns back, no problem. Temporary truce now.”

He chuckles. “Not quite, Kitten. Though I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“Then what do you want?” This asshole has had me jumping through hoops this whole time, but for him to actually offer up something important to me means he wants something he knows I’ll put up a fight against.

“Move in with me,” he says. All the excitement bleeds out of me, and I shuffle back under the covers and turn my back to him.

Is he fucking crazy? I’m not moving in with him. I don’t even like him. I’m still grappling with the notion that I have to marry him. Living with him was not part of the deal. Yes, I could buy other guns. And I could finish my job and just fucking end him, but that means I would never find my guns.

And I really, really want my guns back.

“Agree, and you can have the gun. It’s as easy as that. Besides, you already said my bed is comfy, and you’ve broken into my homes on more than one occasion. You might as well have a fucking key.”

My gaze narrows as I turn to face him. “Give me two guns.”

“One,” he growls, and I know that’s his final offer. I sigh.

“Is it the apartment or mansion?” I ask.

“Which do you prefer?”

“The one that’ll go up in smoke easiest when I burn it to the ground.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “The apartment complex should do nicely, then. You can get the other guns back when the deal is done, and we sign the divorce papers.”

Divorce papers. I try not to scoff as if this is going to end so smoothly. It’ll most likely end with one of us dead, and we both know it.

“Are you doing a prenup?” I inquire sweetly.

“Of course I am. My mother is a lawyer,” he says as if it should have been obvious.

“So you’ll add in there about the money you owe me and that I’ll definitely get my guns back?”

I wait for his response.

“No, because then she’ll know this is all fake.”

I cross my arms over my chest.

“That doesn’t work for me. You could kill me by the end or just divorce me and leave me with nothing I was promised.”

“I’ll pay you half right now.” He reaches for his phone and pulls it out.

“You don’t have my bank details,” I remind him. He keeps on typing, and when he’s finished, my phone dings. Checking it, I see he sent me money. “How did you get my account information?”

“I can get anything. The only thing I can’t have is sitting across from me, smelling like she’s two days past needing a good scrubbing. Now, how about you shower? We have somewhere to be.”

He stands, places my gun on the side table, then turns to walk out. As he gets to the door, he looks back at me. “Unless you need help in the shower?”

“Fuck off.”

“I’d like to fuck you,” he says before answering an incoming call.

When he clicks the door shut behind him, I immediately pick up the gun. I sigh at its weight and the comfort of holding it in my hand. The memories with my father and a flood of relief wash over me having it back.

Clinging to these weapons might seem foolish to some, but they’re all I have. It’s as if they’re permanently taken from me, I won’t have anything grounding me in this world anymore. I really will be a phantom.

This whole situation with Eli is a shit show, mainly because it’s the first time I’ve been truly seen. This gun placed in my hand is a reminder that that was never my intention.

I’m meant to remain a woman on my own path, dealing out death from the shadows. And somewhere, somehow, that part of me has started slipping. More specifically, started becoming overshadowed by another monster.