Bound (The Devil’s Vow #2)

7. Only Death

Chapter seven

Only Death

Chapter 7

My men rushed in with their guns out, even the twins.

Gianni gestured to them and then pointed at his now dead dresser. “Get her out of here and then tell Makayla to send someone to clean the blood up.”

My entire body shook.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. I just stared at the gruesome scene in front of me, my mind reeling, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Gianni calmly set the gun back on safety and placed it on the nightstand. His expression was disturbingly calm, like killing someone was no more significant to him than taking out the trash.

He turned to me and his voice was steady. “Do you feel better now, Queen?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

I was too stunned, too shaken to even form a coherent thought.

The room felt like it was spinning around me.

The blood on the floor.

The dead body now being carried out.

I just. . .couldn’t comprehend it all.

He prowled my way.

I inched back.

Gianni stalked toward me, and his gaze never left mine. “No one else gets to have me, Queen. What we have is forever . That means no cheating. No fucking other women. No other men. Not even a hint of disrespect.”

I took another step back, and my back hit the cold, solid surface of the wall.

He closed the small distance between us and there was nowhere left to go.

Gianni’s presence loomed larger. But instead of the rough, angry confrontation I half-expected, his hands reached out, and his touch was firm but soft.

The door creaked as the twins left and then the other guards carried Vivienne’s lifeless body away.

I glanced at the floor.

Blood smeared across the carpet was all that remained of her now.

Jesus Christ.

I put my gaze back on him.

He placed his hands on my waist. “Whatever displeases my queen. I will end it. I will erase it from this Earth, without hesitation.”

I swallowed hard.

Gianni's green gaze bored down into my soul. “Never again will I disrespect you like that. I am sorry, Erica. Never, do I want you to feel jealous.”

I trembled.

“There is no other woman—no one—that will ever take my attention from you. It is only you.”

I blinked, trying to process what he was saying, but my mind was still spinning from the violence, from the chaos of the last few minutes.

Guilt gnawed at me too, along with something I couldn’t quite describe.

Was it relief?

Confusion?

Fear?

The thoughts of Vivienne’s blood, her lifeless body, and Gianni’s sick and twisted loyalty all tangled together in my mind.

This was the man I had married.

The man who would kill for me without a second thought.

He studied me. “How do you feel, Queen?”

“I-I don’t know what to feel.” My voice grew shaky. “She’s dead, Gianni. Because of me.”

“No, Queen. She’s dead because she disrespected you, and I disrespected you. No one, and I mean no one, will ever make you feel that way again. Her death is my fault, not yours.”

I wanted to argue, to push back, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I just nodded, my heart racing in my chest, unsure of how to handle the situation.

Gianni’s intense gaze softened slightly as if he could sense the turmoil swirling inside me. “I wish you had more time to. . .process this, but. . .you must get dressed for the gala.”

He really fucking killed her. Just like that. I mean. . .

I blinked.

Gianni released his hold on me and stepped back. “Come, my queen. Let me be your dresser.”

As if on cue, two maids entered the room, armed with cleaning products. They got to business in seconds.

The scent of bleach and harsh chemicals quickly filled the space, as they worked to scrub the bloodstains from the carpet.

Gianni pointed at one. “Maria.”

She looked up. “Please, get my wife a nice cup of lavender tea.”

I shook my head, still rattled from everything that had happened. “No. . . I need something stronger.”

Gianni’s eyes flickered with amusement, and then he turned back to the maids. “Then, bring her some grappa .”

The maid nodded quickly and scurried out of the room.

I tried to steady my breathing.

Maybe grappa will help.

It was an intense, clear spirit distilled from the remnants of grapes after winemaking. It was also very strong, fiery, and unapologetic, much like my new husband who had just shot a woman in cold blood to prove his loyalty to me.

Grappa wasn’t the kind of drink a person sipped casually. It was bold, sharp, the kind of alcohol that burned going down and warmed the person from the inside out.

It had an edge to it.

A bite.

I’d had it recently in my return to Obsidian Bay, but only in a small dose.

Regardless, it was the kind of drink that left a lasting impression.

And I desperately needed it right now.

Gianni chuckled softly, rubbing his hands along my arms in a soothing gesture, as if trying to calm the storm inside me. “My mother used to drink grappa when my father killed for her. She always had it served in her favorite crystal glass.”

Nostalgia laced his voice. “It’s what kept her grounded at times.”

I tensed.

He watched me. “Do you understand how I feel about you now?”

My bottom lip quivered. “Yes.”

Gianni lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair from my face. “Never question my loyalty to you, Erica. Never.”

I pursed my lips.

“Because if you do, someone will die. I’ll make a river of blood run through Obsidian Bay and stain the streets. To soak the black stones and sand.” He sneered. “I will not have you angry, jealous, or feeling any emotion besides joy and happiness. Do you understand?”

My breath caught in my throat. “Y-yes, Gianni.”

“However. . .” He licked his lips. “A small part of me, the darkest part, loved that you were jealous.”

I parted my lips.

“Your feelings for me are becoming just as deep and possessive as mine already are for you.”

I bit my bottom lip.

“Hmmm. I forgot something.”

“W-what?”

His eyes flicked toward the door, where the maid worked on cleaning up that stain. “Should I have told your men to save some of Vivienne’s bones for earrings perhaps?”

“God no!” The words came out in a rush, and before I could stop myself, I slipped out of his hold and headed away. “Absolutely not!”

Gianni’s deep, twisted laughter followed me.

He’s insane. Fucking insane.

I rushed into the bathroom.

My heart hammered.

Bile rose up my throat.

I barely made it to the toilet before I doubled over, retching violently. My body shook with each heave, and tears stung my eyes as guilt gnawed at me from the inside out.

What had I done?

Vivienne was dead, and it was because of me. I hadn’t pulled the trigger, but Gianni had done it for me—for my honor.

For my jealousy.

The reality of it made me feel sick all over again.

Oh God!

I gagged, my stomach convulsing even though it was already empty.

Again and again, the scene replayed in my mind—the look of surprise in her eyes, the sound of the gunshot, the blood on the floor.

All because I couldn’t handle the sight of her hands on him and her smug smile.

Fuck.

The guilt was overwhelming.

Suffocating.

I couldn’t stop the surge of tears streaming down my face as I leaned against the cold porcelain of the toilet bowl.

You killed her.

I forced myself to stand, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth. My legs were shaky. My entire body trembled.

Dear God. I have to be careful. I must. He is too crazy. He would kill anybody that makes me feel bad in any way.

Feeling a bit dizzy, I turned away from the toilet and froze.

Gianni stood there, right behind me, watching me with those intense, deadly green eyes. His presence loomed large, filling the small space with an energy that was both brutally terrifying and strangely comforting all at once.

He held a towel in his hands, and before I could speak or react, he was by my side in a blur.

“I’m sorry.” Gianni gathered me up gently, as if I were made of glass, and pressed the soft towel to my face, wiping the vomit off my mouth with a tenderness I didn’t expect from a man who had just killed without hesitation.

Without any fucking mercy.

“I-I. . .killed her.” I choked out between sobs.

“You didn’t.”

“I didn’t mean to. . .I was mad and upset, but I didn’t want her to die—”

“Shhh.” He kissed the tears falling from my eyes. “There is nothing for you to be guilty about.”

“She’s dead.”

“Of course she is.”

“No, Gianni—”

“Any woman who makes you jealous, who disrespects you, will die. That is the law I vowed to live by, once I put that ring on your finger.”

I could hear the truth in his words.

He wasn’t just saying it to calm me down.

He meant it.

Every single word.

The gravity of his madness weighed on my shoulders.

Don’t forget. You must remember. He doesn’t operate by normal rules.

I shivered in his hold.

He cradled my face in his hands, and gently brushed away my remaining tears with his thumb. “Don’t cry, my queen. You are the only one who matters. The only woman in this world who holds my attention. Anyone who threatens that—who dares to make you feel less than what you are—will be erased. I will see to it personally.”

He pressed his lips against my forehead. “You have nothing to be guilty for.”

I’ll do better next time. I’ll make sure I never let my jealousy spiral out of control again.

Because now I knew without a doubt that with Gianni. . .there were no half-measures.

There was only blood.

There was only death.