The killer of her best friend wants her. What happens when the lines between hatred and desire begin to blur?
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╰┈⫸ 𝑺 𝒀 𝑵 𝑶 𝑷 𝑺 𝑰 𝑺:
𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢'𝐬 life takes a harrowing turn on her best friend's wedding day whe...
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The relief I felt seeing my brother standing before me in the flesh was so vivid that it seemed as though a hundred-pound stone had been lifted from my shoulders.
Rome, I'm killing you after I get out of these ropes.
His face remained impassive as I glared at him, but as his eyes drifted from me to Queen, I could detect a hint of a smile—seemingly amused by my wife.
Touché. She is amazing, after all.
Before the silence among us could grow more awkward than it already was, he stepped forward, wearing a pleasant, fake-as-hell smile on his face. "Delighted to meet you at last, Quintessa."
When Queen didn't bother giving any response to his forgery, the smile dropped. He tucked his hands into his pockets and assessed her with a hard stare. "Of course, I suppose you're not as pleased."
Queen, as if pulled from a trance, blinked and then frowned, coldly measuring his words. Crossing her hands behind her back, the knife she had been holding glinted under the shallow light in the room. She tilted her head, remaining silent as though waiting for my brother to continue.
If Rome was put off by her silence, he didn't show it. Both their postures remained calm, neither showing signs of intimidation. Then, breaking the illusion of gentlemanly behavior, he asked, "Care to tell me why my brother is tied up here?"
This time, Queen's mouth lifted into a small, mocking smile. "I think you already know the reason." She shrugged her shoulders, her posture still nonchalant. "You had your ex-fiancée invited to an only-family occasion, and my brother kidnapped by him. Do you not have anything to say about it?" His tone was sharp, pointed. Though he tried to project authority, to remind everyone who was in charge, it grated on my nerves.
"It'd be quite hypocritical to say anything about that when your brother had my sister kidnapped as well, Romario de Luca."
"It's quite hypocritical to say anything when you kidnapped her sister as well, brother,"
Both Queen and I said the last part at the same time. Our unison mixed in the air, creating a heavy, tense atmosphere. Silence fell between us as Rome's gaze shifted back to me, his hand twitching toward his waistband as if preparing to draw his gun. I bit my lip hard, cursing myself inwardly for my blatant slip of the tongue. My wife's shocked stare only compounded my regret.
We locked eyes—my bewilderment mirrored by hers. Then, as though pulling herself from a trance, she scoffed, turning her gaze back to Rome. "You were the one who kidnapped Anastasia?" Disbelief and disdain dripped from her voice.
Rome's glare shifted from me to her, his silence answering her accusation. She huffed in frustration, her anger palpable. "Oh, for fuck's sake," she muttered. Turning on her heels to leave, she barely made it a step before Rome's hand shot out and gripped her wrist, halting her movement.
